#I have art and I’m fucked because my art portfolio is like half done
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your day sounds good!!! i’m still exhausted and i have a busy weekend but it’s almost half term :))
me and one of my friends are currently obsessing over taylor swift (it’s been a long stream of messages and proof for a single at midnight!!!!)
i feel pretty shitty and i got a crap grade on a bio test the other day (36% which is a 4 (a fail) so i have to retake it, but my teacher hasn’t told me when?!?!?) but i got my chem test back and i got 38/45!!! it’s a high 7 (an A!!!) (75%)
my heads hurting and i feel just a like i need a big hug 🫂
my english teacher asked me if i was okay, and so did my drama teacher and i think it’s because i’m quite chatty to them normally and i was literally dying in english since it was getting quite loud in the classroom and things were going wrong (i would skip a word while writing in my book, and normally that’s okay, but like 4 years ago in my old school i was moved down sets (from top set) and it’s taken until the start of this year to be in top set again, and i feel like i need to prove that of that makes sense - even though i’d like to think i’m really good with english.
my art’s going well!!! i’m just finished some work and then my portfolio will be done (minus final piece / build up to that via planning and the writing part :)(
i did loads of maths in class today - and i felt good since i don’t normally do anything 👀
i feel like i’m offloading - sorry this is so much to read <3
period talk below for a little bit
ngl i’ve cried like 4 times today and i’m on my period and it’s so fucking heavy (the purple tampons (the ‘super plus extra’ as they call them) was not enough for two hours.) it’s heavier in the morning and basically stops until evening after lunch but grrrrr… i have paleish pink/blue patterned sheets on my bed and if i’ve ruined them i’ll cry :(
my toes are cold as i’m typing this which isn’t very sexy :(
i’m going to ask my mum to pick up some crumpets from the shop so i can toast them at school :))))
oh my fucking god crumpets and marmite (with s little butter ofc) is actually heaven let me tell you
(i’ve been being tea in a flask, (the one that my dad dropped off) but i’ve ran out. NoOoOoO. (i still have an apricot and vanilla one that is essentially new, but i’ll miss my cranberry one (until i buy more (but i’ll have to order it and i can’t be arsed))
HUGE RANT OVER!!!!! i love you loads and hope all is okay xxxxxxx
okay soo going with taylor swift, midnights is coming out in like two days. it is the 19 today and it comes out on the 21!!! i cant wait, it’s going to be the first album by t.s. that i will get to listen to right when it comes out!!!
i hope you grades are getting better, or just the scores are going up!! but omg you got an A on a test!!! that’s amazing!! :DDD
i wish i could give you a big hug!! 🤗🫂
you dont have to prove that you’re on top. if you are stressing and you need like a break, it’s okay to take that break. —— i get the skipping over a word thing, i do that sometimes when taking notes and i need to catch up real quick. also i hate loud classrooms, like sometimes the kids just need to shut up. most of my classes are quiet tho but when they start talking, it can become loud. sometimes it’s a good thing, sometimes it’s not.
oooo!! are you liking art? what are you making? // what have you been making?
bro i’ve been paying attention in my math class and i’ve also moved to the front of the class so i’ve been doing my work and i understand the math we’re doing a lot more!! i like math though it depends. my math grade still sucks but hopefully i can get up!! i hope math has been good to youu!! :)))
nonoono, i like this! im really sorry i haven’t responded to this text. i’ve been busy and i hate it: me being busy. but yeah, no this perfectly okay!! if you need to do this more then go ahead! i hope we start talking more tho! since im not gonna be that busy but i still have school and so do you so yeah. but text me anytime you want!! :))
i hope the rest of your period days were better. i hope the days after your period was better too! period sucks. im supposed to start today actually but i haven’t yet and im so worried im going to start when im not home or have not bathroom to go into. im walking home today so thats what i mean by no bathroom to go into. but damn, your period sounds painful. mine isn’t so painful, (bc i said that, its going to most likely hurt when it starts.) but i dont usually get that many cramps is what i mean. and i also take pills so i dont feel it. but i honestly like it when my period starts bc then i can restart.
i hope you feet are warm bc mine are warm and i hope that is sexy 😼💪
ooo are crumpets good? they look yummy! — i just saw what else you said and i’ve never had marmite, i dont think the usa has that :( but all of that sounds yummy!!
i love tea! i want to drink it more. cranberry anything is really good!! also that’s really good when on your period! but i hope you get your favorite tea’s soon!! or have already gotten it!! :DD
I LOVED THIS RANT!! thank you so much for talking to me!! but i am sorry it’s taken forever to answer this. i love you loads too!! and im sending you lots of love!! <33333 xxxxxxxxxxxxx
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Good morning everyone, god decided it’s the weekday and I’m about to make it his problem
#PLEASE I JUST WANT TO SLEEP IN AGAIN#I don’t want to go to school today man#I have art and I’m fucked because my art portfolio is like half done#AND WE HAVE TO SEND IT IN TO GET MARKED BY THE 15TH#FUCK#luna speaks
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Eyes lit
notes: Artist Keigo is something I did not know I needed until I made my own dumb paintings lol. Title credit from Crimewave by Crystal Castles
characters: Hawks/Keigo Takami
warnings: 18+, artist!Hawks, drug use, minor choking
summary:
You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.
The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?”
I’m not an artist, I don’t know how to paint. You told him, intimidated initially when you walked into his apartment and saw a box of paints along with two small easels. The only painting you’ve done was just with your fingers back in elementary school when you were a child, how were you supposed to paint alongside someone who’s a fucking art major who’s got a whole portfolio to backup his experience? But Keigo eased your worries, told you that there’s no need to be intimidated at all.
“You don’t have to worry at all about being good or anything like that dove. The trip will tell you what to paint.”
“It’s gonna look like shit when the trip is over Keigo.”
“Don’t say that dove, art is subjective. Trust me, when you’re on you won’t care as much.” He touches the small of your back and leads you towards the dinner table, “And besides, you might really like what you make in the end.”
“I don’t know what I want to paint.”
“The trip will tell you what to paint, you’ll see.”
Keigo has you sit down to eat first, just takeout pizza from a nearby restaurant along with some breadsticks. Barbecue chicken with a side of ranch, he doesn’t like pepperoni pizza at all. His first choice was fried chicken or wings but that’s damn near what you eat with him almost all the time so this is his compromise. He’s got a little basket of snacks and candy on his kitchen countertop, prepared ahead of time for tonight along with a plastic container of red and green grapes already washed.
“I don’t like grapes Keigo.”
“Trust me, you’ll be grateful to those grapes when you’re on dove.”
He brought out a plastic baggie from his fridge and set out the contents of it onto a wooden chopping board, watching as he broke up the small pieces carefully with a knife. You heard that acid comes in forms of little blotter paper or that people put a drop of it into sugar cubes and dissolve it in water to micro dose someone. Keigo cuts two pieces of what look like little window panes, very small fragments and when you inspect them closer, it almost looks as if there’s little gold flakes inside the gelatin.
“When will I know it’s kicking in?” you ask him, looking down at the tiny piece that sits in the palm of your hand. Such a small little thing that’s apparently a strong hallucinogenic, Keigo’s told you before that he’s felt his sensations cross over like hearing colors or seeing sounds. You had no idea what he spoke of but the best way to find out is to give it a try. “How long will it take?”
Keigo’s fixing up the easels in front of the couch, has blankets ready and is putting a video playlist up on his television. “Depends on the person but most of the time it tends to kick in after half an hour or so. You’ll know when you’re on, you’ll see it.” he explains.
You look around Keigo’s apartment, paintings he made himself hung up on the walls of his home. Most of his paintings were done sober but he’s got a few framed up that he’s particularly proud of that he made when he went on acid trips. He’s already such an amazing artist, certain pictures on his walls capturing your attention and invoking particular emotions from you. You’ve seen Keigo color match your sweater in just a mere manner of seconds, sampling little bits of paints and combining them until the hues matched exactly what you were wearing. And there’s you, just a mere amateur when it came to the arts. But Keigo assures you again that it’s not about making something ‘good’, it’s just there for you to have fun with it. He’s got canvases of all shapes and sizes for you to work with and that even though he’ll be on too, he’s definitely going to take care of you for your first trip.
You trust Keigo, it’s just the canvases and the paints that make you nervous.
He stands in front of you, smiling gently before leaning down to kiss you. His lips are soft, just a hint of vanilla you taste off his mouth because you let him borrow your chapstick earlier, and it’s so tender the way he holds your cheek in his hand that your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies tickle the inside of your tummy. You feel a little flustered when he pulls back, blonde hair swept back stylishly and a lazy grin on his face as he holds his own tab in between his fingertips.
“Cheers!”
The little tab goes underneath your tongue and you’re just supposed to wait for it to dissolve.
So Keigo puts on the playlist and the two of you talk for a little bit before moving to the art stations. “Choose whatever colors you want dove, choose the colors that you think will speak to you.”
You squeeze certain colors you think you want to work with into your little plastic palette, making sure to shake the bottles first and filling all the little spaces that’s meant to hold the paint. Keigo easily chooses the paints he knows he’s going to work with to start himself off and sets himself in front of his easel. He wears a simple red hoodie and gray sweats, comfortable loungewear for the next few hours and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t notice the print of his cock sometimes when he swiveled his hips a certain way. You wear pajamas pants and one of your soft sweaters, a gentle shade of lilac, perfect for keeping you warm on this rainy night.
You know you’ll be exhausted by the end of it, deciding to take acid for the first time overnight but at least you’ll have the next two days to recover.
And you’ll have Keigo as well.
He makes easy conversation with you, talking about how his week was and in turn asking how yours was. You look down at the paints in your palette as you talk back and forth with him, forcing yourself to not wonder how much time has passed. Your phone is by the kitchen table, placed face down so that you don’t obsess over the time so you try to measure the amount of time has passed based on the time of the videos playing on the television. Yet you start to care less about the time as you actually start to get caught up in the paints in front of you, experimenting and pleasantly surprised with how you came up with such a pretty violet color. You point it out to Keigo, stupidly excited over it but he smiles and agrees with you. “Such a pretty color dove, but not as pretty as you.”
His words make the butterflies flutter in your stomach again but you say nothing, turning back to your canvas and picking up a brush. For a few minutes you just stare back and forth between the paint and the white canvas, wondering how you should start off. Keigo obviously sees you concentrating too hard and reminds you, “Don’t think about it too hard, just paint and see what happens.”
Okay... so in other words, just do it.
So you take a deep breath, dip your brush in the paint, and make a single stripe at the very top edge of the canvas.
“See? Not so scary.”
“Y-Yeah, it’s not!” You squeak out, still embarrassed but a little less intimidated now that you actually started it. You’re not exactly sure what you’ll do with it but there’s no harm in just winging it.
Hm... wings...
You glance over to Keigo, one of his sleeves rolled up and his tattoo visible on his forearm. It’s a detailed wing on his forearm inked in only black, the very tip of it extended towards his elbow and he’s got a matching one on his other forearm as well. You remember the first time you saw them and how Keigo let you run your fingers over his tattoo, watching in amusement over how fascinated you were.
Back to your canvas, you see the sheen of the fresh paint on the white canvas and decide to add more to it. Maybe you’ll get inspired the more you add to it, thinking what colors compliment violet and what exactly you could create. Over the next few minutes you just continue painting the violet further onto the surface of the canvas, looking down briefly at the black paint that’s also in your palette and wonder if you could try painting a mountain. You recall plenty of times looking up at the sky when you were done hiking and just in awe of the colors of the sunset, hues of purples and reds and orange that invoked a certain feeling in your chest.
A sunset... a sunset!
Easy enough yeah?
You just have to add red, orange, yellow, probably a touch of blue... some clouds would be nice too.
So you spread more of the purple across the canvas, concentrating hard at first before realizing something. “Keigo?”
“Yes dove?”
“I think my painting is breathing.”
Keigo laughs from his side and you feel his hand ruffle your hair affectionately.
You look hard at your canvas and swear that you can see the paint inhale and exhale, the veins of the paint pulse in the painting. Wait... veins? You don’t remember painting anything like that, all you did was just cover part of the canvas to get you started. The longer you stare at the canvas, you swear that you can see the paint drip down slightly, the canvas inflating and deflating, and hidden designs on the untouched parts of the white canvas.
The acid had finally hit.
“Keigo... I think I’m on.” you say as you dip your brush into the water cup to wash off the violet, this time into the yellow paint and haphazardly brushing it onto the canvas before switching over to the bright red without washing off the yellow. You think how powerful the color red is, how strong and overpowering it is on the canvas and you tell Keigo, “I think you’d look gorgeous with red wings Keigo.”
Keigo is concentrated on his own canvas but he does glance over to you and smiles how you’re suddenly so into painting when you were so reluctant at first when you walked into his studio. He watches you blend the red into the yellow, wondering what exactly is inspiring you and what your finished product will be. “Ah how interesting dove, you comparing me to an angel?”
“Angel wings are white, I said your wings would be red.”
“Why red?”
You shrug your shoulders as you brush some blue onto the violet on the top of the canvas, blending the blue and violet together. “I don’t know, just suits you a lot... I wore wings last year, I was an angel last year for Halloween.”
“You dressed like an angel last year for Halloween, you certainly didn’t act like one.”
Suddenly the memory of last year’s Halloween comes rushing to the front of your memory and you begin to giggle, needing to set your brush down and have your little giggle fit; he was very right, drunk shenanigans in your angelic costume while holding White Russians with your friends surfacing to your mind. You don’t know why you’re so amused but you are, leaning back against the couch and curling yourself into a ball. You pull the blanket over your shoulders, pulling the bottom corners into your lap and you look down in awe. You swear that even though you’re sitting still, the blanket looks like it’s pulsing as well and you can see the small fibers of it sticking out from the surface. You can’t help but pick at one and hold it in between your fingertips, staring for a few seconds before releasing it.
Moving to lie on your side, you press your cheek into the couch cushion and stare at the painting you just started. It looks weird right now, purple on top with yellow and red in the middle but you’re determined that you’re going to paint that sunset!
You look over towards Keigo, seeing that he started off his canvas a golden yellow at first and is brushing a crimson red on top of it as well. It sort of reminds you of fire and you wonder what he’s seeing. You pull the blanket over your head, sheltering you from the bright lights of the room and you stare at your own hands right in front of your face. Every line and wrinkle is moving, like they’re switching places on you and you ‘ooh’ quietly. When you shut your eyes, it’s not a straight darkness you see like when you close your eyes and go to bed. You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.
The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?” Keigo asks you, clearly amused to have looked back and saw you as just a lump under his blanket. “Yeah, looks like you’re having fun.”
“Hehehe... yeah.” you smile up at him, pushing some of your hair back from your face. You look as he presents a single red grape to you, drops of water still on it to let you know that it had just been washed and while grapes weren’t your favorite fruit to eat, somehow they looked so appetizing in that moment. You open your mouth and Keigo places the fruit into your mouth, chomping down and it’s so juicy and firm and crunches so loud in your head that you moan as you chew.
Delicious, it’s delicious!
Keigo feeds you grapes every so often, whether you’re sitting in front of your canvas to continue painting, looking at the television and the visuals presented along with the music, get up to look at his other paintings that you think are whispering or waving to you, or when you decide to just stare at the tapestry he hung up in front of his balcony. You understand why tie dye is so appealing to look at now, you know for sure it’s not the wind making the tapestry move, the colors waving at you and you try to reach into the tapestry, your fingertips just barely grasping the colors in front of you.
“How long has it been Keigo?” you ask as you continue to look at the tapestry.
“It’s almost eleven, so it’s been three hours since we took it.”
Wow, three hours...
You’re not sure how the passage of time is feeling for you, everything is looking warped and you suppose that your sense of time is included in that as well.
You feel hands under your armpits and your lifted up to your feet, leaning back and touching the arms that hold you securely. The tattooed wings on Keigo’s forearm, the feathers look as if they’re rustled, they look like they need to be preened. It’s important for birds to preen their feathers so that their wings look presentable. “Okay dove, time for a bathroom break. Think you’ll need my help?”
No, you’re a big girl, of course you can go to the bathroom yourself.
Though you do have to ask Keigo to hold your hand, looking down at the floor and not trusting your own feet. It’s like you’re looking through a fish eye lens, like the floor seems so much wider and closer to you. Keigo says something to you when he drops you off at the bathroom but you don’t hear him, humming absently and you close the door. You do your business and wash your hands, using the nearby hand towel to dry off your hands and then you look up at the mirror.
You lean forward and inspect your pupils, they’re blown up and you think you can see shifting colors in your iris. You really are on, pulling back and inspecting your reflection. Now you feel like you’re caught, not sure if you recognize the person who’s looking back at you and... and... is the shower curtain moving towards you? Is that really you in the mirror? Your hair is never this mussed up and the color of your shirt you always liked before but why did it look so weird on you now?
“Dove, I’m coming in.” Keigo announces and slowly pushes open the door so that he doesn’t catch you in any indecent state. But he sees you just staring intently at your reflection and just comes up behind you, pressing his front to your back and tilting your head back to look at him. “Ah got caught looking at yourself in the mirror huh? S’alright, the first time I did acid apparently I spent a half hour just looking at my own reflection too.”
His eyes are the color of honey and you think you can suddenly taste it in your mouth, you imagine it. “Your eyes are pretty.”
“You’re pretty.”
But you shake your head at the compliment and ask, “Did I always look so weird Keigo?” you ask him, reaching one hand up and brushing the tips of your fingers along his stubble.
“No you never look weird, you’re always so cute.” he reassures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Go back to the living room, lemme have my bathroom break and I’ll join you in a hot minute.”
“Don’t fall in the mirror.” you say absently as you walk out the bathroom and shut the door. You hold onto anything you can to help balance you, the floorboards beneath your feet look as if they’re trying to trip you up but you manage on your own to make your way back to your spot on the couch, staring at your unfinished painting.
What... what was I making again?
Violet, blue, red, yellow... oh yeah, the sunset.
Keigo really was right when he said that trip would decide what you would paint.
You don’t hear the bathroom door open but you look up as Keigo comes into your vision and ask, “How do I make clouds?”
“How do you mean? Like how clouds are made in the sky? Well you see clouds are made of water droplets that are so small that they’re able to stay in the air. You see the water vapor-” Keigo starts on what you know is a very educational lecture on clouds but you stop him with a whine, pointing to your canvas. “Oh... oh! You want to know how to paint clouds. Haha, sorry dove!”
Keigo makes himself comfortable right behind you, your bodies once again pressed to one another as he hands you the palette of paint and picks up a different paint brush has you hold it in your own hand but he covers it with his own; you’ll hold the brush while he controls your movements. So he dips the paint brush in the white paint, also adding in a touch of red that almost makes it pink and you gasp. It’s not gonna go together! you think but Keigo hushes you, tells you to just trust him. And although you’re watching how he dabs the paintbrush onto your canvas, you’re not really perceiving the process. One minute it’s a messy slate of purple, yellow and red and then boom suddenly there are clouds that actually create a picture. “Ah you were trying to make a sunset, I can see why you wanted to paint clouds. Very creative, I’m proud of you!”
“I did that?”
“You did!”
He praises you as if you were a child doing it for the first time... though you actually are painting for the first time and honestly it actually is coming out pretty nice, though it’s only thanks to the help of Keigo. So you look back at him, pressing your lips against briefly and whisper out, “Thank you.”
Returning back to his canvas, you decide that you can continue painting on your own. You close your eyes and try to remember any memory that contains a sunset, whether it was through your own eyes or perhaps looking at images on the internet. You try your hardest, your mind producing more interesting shapes and patterns of colors that almost distract you but you’re going to pain that sunset damn it! So you blend the colors on the canvas, adding in more tones of violet and purple towards the bottom to cover up the blank spots. You thought about adding in a mountain or some trees but you feel that’s much too advanced for you to attempt, though you know that you can ask Keigo again but he already helped you once. Now you were determined to do another by yourself.
You ask if you can have another canvas and Keigo gets up to the little pile of untouched ones. When he hands you one and ask if it’s a good size, it’s a question you can really answer because the way he holds it out to you makes it seem to long. And realizing that your perception is altering the way you look at the canvas, he holds it upright for you and you ask for something a little bigger.
Carefully setting aside the sunset painting... whoa it’s like the clouds are really moving!
Focus.
You set up the new blank canvas in front of you, wondering what to make next.
“Ah I almost forgot, I got this for you too while I was at the craft store.” Keigo tells you as he brings up the box paints, holding out a tube of-
“Ooooh... glitter.” you awe at the opalescent colors, holding it against the light to see sheens of white and pink and purple. You’re not sure if it’s the acid or not but it looks extra pretty and you shake the little tube in your hand.
“Have fun with it just uh... make sure to not get too messy.”
You could imagine such pretty colors like the stars and them falling into your eyes... oh, you could make a starry night for your next painting. So you enthusiastically brush more violet and blue onto the new canvas along with a touch of black to make a dark sky. The canvas breathes at you and you think that the more color you add to it, you think you can hear it sigh in relief. You blend it all together and wonder what else you could add to it. You drift to the palette and zero in on the white paint, exchanging your current paint brush for a smaller one, dipping it into the white paint and just making little dots here and there to represent the stars. Then you open the tube of fine glitter and you’re particularly giddy; your painting is going to be amazing, it’s going to look exactly like the night sky... no even better! It’ll be like the cosmos!
You must have been a little overzealous with the glitter on your painting because Keigo nudges a towel just right underneath your easel and you feel him pat down your feet.
Careful with the edges of the painting since it’s still wet, you gently shake off any of the excess glitter and then lean back to really inspect it. In the moment it really looks like a beautiful starry sky and you think that you can literally see shooting stars in it, so sparkly and pretty in the moment. You pull the blanket back over your body and crawl your way to Keigo’s side of the couch, sitting behind him and perching your chin atop his shoulder. Weird, you could have sworn that when he first started painting he started off with yellow and red, he’s painting over it with blue and green now. “Keigo, what are you painting?”
“I don’t know. I started off thinking about fire at first and then all of a sudden I just started putting green and blue together... I think I might have been either thinking about the ocean or the forest... I forget.” Keigo explains, still not stopping his paint brush over the surface. You guess that even artists start off sometimes nonsensical too and that they don’t always have a clear idea how their end product might come out. But you still admire it anyway, reaching your hand out and loosely holding onto his wrist. His arms look even longer from where you’re looking and yet he’s sitting so close to his painting at the same time.
Perception sure is a strange thing when you’re on.
He smells nice, pressing your nose into his neck and breathing in his cologne, humming in delight and pressing yourself even closer to him.
Now you’re not exactly the bold type, every once in a while you’ve decided to make the first move but most of the time you let others give you the signal first before you flirt back. Already you and Keigo have been seeing each other for a few weeks, a few dates here and there but you’ve yet to progress anything spicier than a few make outs and maybe some teasing touches. So it comes as a surprise to him when you drag a hand down from his chest and let it rest in between his spread legs, groaning when you lick the shell of his ear and nibble on it. “B-Babe... we’re supposed to be... to be...”
“Painting? That canvas isn’t the only thing you can paint Keigo.” you whisper in his ear, feeling for his cock in his gray sweats and pleased that you can feel that he’s getting hard. You form your hand over his cock and stroke it through the sweats while your other hand drags over his arm, still stretched out towards the painting but now his arm is tense. “For example... you can paint me with your cum. Inside or out, I’ll let the artist decide.”
Keigo sets down his paint brush and his palette before tugging you to his bed.
It’s dark in his room when he shuts the door but you’re quickly put on the surface of his bed. You can hear him fiddling around somewhere in the corner of the room and then red light fills the room, it’s pretty basic of him to own those strip lights seeing as you’ve had more than a few friends decorate their room with it too but now isn’t the time to critique the mood lighting. You do have to wonder why the color red, why not just put on the regular ceiling lights?
He’s on you once the lights are on, pulling off your pajama bottoms and setting them to the side for the time being. Spreading your legs open, Keigo starts off with kissing the inside of your thighs and slowly goes up higher. Your panties are still on but you moan softly when he kisses your pussy through the cotton, then it’s up to your belly button, pushing your sweater up along with the soft bra you decided to wear tonight as stops to pay attention to your breasts, nipples perked up to the cold air along with the way Keigo flicks his tongue over them. While he sucks hickies onto your breasts, you run your hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling, you think you can hear the flap of a bird’s wings and think something flutters from the corner of your eye. “K-Keigo... is it okay for us to do this while we’re on?”
“You’re safe babe, I’m here.” he assures you as he helps tug off your sweater over your head. “Just focus on me, I’ve done this before.”
Oh great, he didn’t just allude that he’s fucked other people on acid before did he?
Keigo seems to catch his choice of words and grinds his clothed cock against your panties and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean that sometimes sex on acid can be a precarious thing to engage in, I just wanna let you know that I got you.” he presses the pad of his thumb where he guesses your clit is. “You trust me yeah?”
Yeah, I do.
“How about a little art lesson for ya? That’ll help get you in the mood and you’ll learn something interesting.” Keigo takes off his sweats and his underwear, leaving you the only one who’s almost naked in the room. The music still plays from the living room, smooth guitar and easy beats still reach your ears. “You wanna know why I made the lights red? Red provokes the strongest emotion and is considered the warmest and most contradictory of the colors. Can you tell me some things you think of when you think of the color red?”
Apples, firetrucks, blood.
“Red is one of the most visible colors in the spectrum, its the kind of color that’s an attention grabber which is why it’s used to warn people of danger. Red can convey a sense of danger,” Keigo explains this while he pets you through your panties, it’s almost leisurely the way he does it but he can see how you quiver underneath his touch. “but it’s also associated with excitement, that even sometimes just being exposed to the color can cause elevated blood pressure and heart rate.”
Your heart rate is certainly up right now and it’s not just because of the acid.
You feel Keigo pull your panties to the side and easily glide a finger in but he wants something in return as well, “Spit in your hand and stroke my cock.”
As you stroke Keigo and he gently fingers you, he continues on about his lesson on the color red. “So along with danger, excitement, there’s also aggression and dominance. There’s not exactly a clear reason why red is associated with dominance, maybe it just goes hand in hand with feeling aggressive, perhaps also representing power as well.”
“K-Kei... please get to the point!” you whine, sitting up with one hand braced on the bed while the other continues to stroke him. He’s added another finger and you notice that he’s put a little bit more vigor in his actions. “Please won’t you just-”
“Most of all though, my little bird,” Keigo continues over you but you can take a guess where this ‘art lesson’ is going by the way his lips quirk up and how is voice drops. “red is also linked to passion, love, and desire, that it’s apparently a very attractive color. You remember what color you wore the first time we met?”
“You... you saying that you only liked me ‘cause I was wearing red?” you ask, a breathy laugh leaving your lips but then whine as Keigo strokes your g-spot and you almost dropped back onto the bed but he’s quick to catch you. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you and winds it around your waist to pull you flush against him and settles you in his lap, your hand trapped between your bodies but you continue to jerk his cock despite the limited space.
Keigo chuckles along with you, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck and give you a gentle bite. “Aha I’m just teasing you dove, it was your cute face I saw first and besides, you weren’t wearing a red shirt when we first met... You were wearing red panties, I remember seeing them when you bent over in that short little black dress.”
“You’re embarrassing.” you mumble, adjusting yourself so that you hover over his cock, slapping the head of it against your clit. “And that wasn’t an art lesson, that was more like color psychology.”
“You still learned something, did you not?”
You cup Keigo’s cheeks in your hands, kissing him briefly and pull back to tell him, “I’m not looking to learn anything except how your cock feels inside me.”
So you brace your arms around Keigo’s shoulders, sighing as he eases himself into you slowly. His hands hold your ass, gently lifting you off his cock and then easing you down again to take him further, repeating the process until his girth was sheathed all the way inside you. You gasp together, you at his size and him at your tightness, hands all over each other and you’re wondering where his body begins and yours ends. Whatever other cocks you had inside you before, they’ve never felt like this when they first entered you.
And then the two of you are moving in sync with one another, holding each other’s gaze, just barely able to see the reflection of each other in your blown out pupils. You can’t really see the honey gold of his eyes thanks to the lights but you you think you can taste it still, every time you just taste that sweet nectar when you look into Keigo’s eyes. It must mean how sweet he is, that must be why his eyes are colored like that.
He’s sweet like honey.
Again, you hear the flap of a bird’s wings even though you know the bedroom window isn’t open.
It’s slow and sensual at first, sex on acid is something more heightened, something indescribable behind the sensations as you lean back slightly to roll your hips while you meet Keigo’s thrusts. Your hands locked behind his neck and your head lolling back, a sensual sigh from you when you feel a hand go to your throat. A breathy ‘yes’ spills from your lips as the pads of the fingers carefully press at the sides of your neck; feels good, feels so good...
Suddenly you’re pushed onto your back, gasping in surprise at first and then uninhibited moans as he viciously fucks you. And what can you do but take it, take all of it, peering at him through the haze of pleasure and the peak of your high when you see it.
Bright red wings spreading from Keigo’s back, brighter than the lights, the feathers ruffle and seem to groan alongside him, he’s losing himself in this carnal moment, bracing himself over you and the wings coming forward as well. You feel floaty, almost as if the wings are carrying you themselves, you think you can feel feathers tickle your skin while Keigo’s hands have your hands pinned above your head, your ankles locking just right above his buttocks.
It feels like the sex is lasting forever, that as fast and hard Keigo pumps into you it feels never ending. In truth you don’t know how much time has actually passed, just that the passage of time seems longer. But it feels good, you feel one with Keigo and even just the slightest clench of your fingers intertwined with his feels even more intimate. His panting, your whimpers, the music, the lights, the flapping of the wings, and you crying out his name.
Even as you clench your eyes shut, swirling patterns of hues of red dance behind your eyelids. They seem to move in time with Keigo’s tempo, every slap of his hips connecting with your body, they respond accordingly. You feel one of his hands drawn down from your neck, past your breasts, giggling when he goes over your belly button, and groan when he plays with your clit.
He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing even though you’re just lying there and taking it, you try to participate by rolling your hips up to meet his but his power is just too overwhelming. “Kei... Kei... go, it feels so good...!”
You wriggle your other hand free from his and pull him down, practically hugging him and bringing him even closer, eyes shut hard as he goes into double time. His face is pushed into your neck, breathing hard into it and you think you can hear his wings flapping even harder. His hands hold your waist, just lifting you up slightly so that your back slightly arches.
Soft skin against rough hands.
“Where you going to paint your cum Keigo?” you ask, your lips just barely brushing against the shell of his ear. “All over my face? My tits? Maybe... even turn me around and blow it all over my back?”
“Fuck! Keep talking like that! ’M gonna cum dove... I’m gon’a cum!”
You push him back just enough and once again cup his face in your hands, “Look at me when you cum.”
Jittery nods of his head, he’ll absolutely obey anything you want as long as you don’t let him leave inside of you. All over your face would be so nice, your tits even nicer, he hasn’t pulled out to cum on someone’s back in months but fuck when you mention it, it’s so fucking enticing. But nothing beats when it’s oozing out, like ice cream melting on a hot day as it drips so he has to ask you if it’s okay. “Babe... can I paint you inside babe?”
Does an artist even have to ask permission to paint their canvas?
“Yeah... paint me white inside.”
And that’s all permission he needs, a few harsh thrusts and he cums with you, his cum shooting inside you while you gush around him, almost like it’s trying to push him out. But he stays inside you, his visit isn’t over quite yet, he doesn’t want to leave, not when he feels so connected with you.
You catch your breath, blinking your bleary eyes and see all of those red feathers slowly leave Keigo’s back. You don’t know how many there are, maybe two hundred or something like that, but you watch them leave one by one, almost as if they’re each being controlled individually. You think Keigo is the one that’s dismissing the feathers and you reach out towards them; you never got the chance to touch them.
Hands sliding down his back, you express a mild disgust over how sweaty Keigo is, “Ew... take a shower.”
“Only if you come with me.” Keigo chuckles pushing himself off you but wiping at your forehead as well. Geez, you hadn’t even realized you sweated too.
So the two of you stand under the warm shower spray, he lathers his shampoo and conditioner into your hair first, washing it out for you before you return the favor for him. You note how even more intimate this is compared to the sex before, looking up into his eyes and you give each other an endearing smile. The peak has been passed and now the acid will ease off, already things look a little less distorted and the intense distortions don’t feel like they used to when you first started.
“How are my eyes dove? Getting lost in them?” Keigo chuckles but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, choosing to kiss you instead. “Did you mind that our first time was on acid?”
“No, it was good.” you tell him as you draw a single line on his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “I can’t wait to have regular, sober sex with you.”
“Hehe, I hope it compares well to my first performance.”
“I don’t know,” you singsong to him, “maybe you set the bar too high having first time on acid.”
“Well don’t say that now.”
The two of you laugh together, he playfully pushes your head but pulls you back in for another kiss. The water runs down both of your bodies and you pull back, looking down at the ground. Keigo thinks that you’re looking down at his cock and that you might be up for another round but you look back up at him and ask, “My feet are like a million miles away... have I always been this tall?”
You dry up together and change into clean clothes, returning to the easels and you’re surprised that the television still is playing music from the playlist. After so long without having your phone, you check the time to see that it’s well into two in the morning and it’s no wonder that you feel tired, not just from the sex but how late it was as well.
You curl up onto the couch while Keigo still works on his painting, the last thing you see were your sunset painting alongside the starry night one, the clouds shifting on one and the other still sparkles with shooting stars.
━━━━✧
“Ugh, I told you that they’d look like shit when the trip is over.”
“Don’t say that, they look fantastic.”
You hold up both of their canvases and each hand, looking deadpan at him with tired eyes. “This one looks like I just puked glitter on it and the only part of this one that is good are the clouds that you helped me paint!” you sigh out and look down at each of the paintings. You knew it, you weren’t an artist after all and you had thought that you did such a good job last night.
Keigo takes your starry night painting and brings it over to the sink, banging the edge of it gently a few times to shake off any glitter that didn’t dry on the paint before handing it back to you. “See, now it looks a little less like glitter puke and I have to tell you this dove, but you painted those clouds yourself.”
Huffing at him, you set down the starry night painting and look down at your sunset painting. “Keigo, I know I was on last night but you for sure helped me paint the clouds. I remember that part pretty clearly, don’t try to treat me like I’m a kid and say some bullshit to make me feel better.”
“I helped you get started but I saw that you picked it up on your own and you painted the rest of it yourself, I swear.”
“Keigo-”
He stops you with a soft call of your name and even though the two of you are tired as hell and feel disassociated from your own bodies and personalities, something tugs in your heart that way he says your name. “I’m serious, I helped you start making the clouds but you actually got the hang of it and watched you do it yourself. I told you the trip would tell you what to paint and you did it!”
You still look disbelieving at him, swearing that you thought you felt his hand help you paint last night. But then again, you also thought you saw one of his paintings of a balloon flying away too so maybe he might be telling the truth. It’s a little hard to discern what were your actions that actually happened versus what was in your mind. Much like the wings you thought he sprouted when the two of you had sex.
“Can you just show me yours? I fell asleep before I could see what you made.” He hands you his own canvas and you stare hard at it, looking back and forth between him and the painting in your hands. “Did you make another one last night?”
“Nope, I used that one canvas the entire night.”
“Didn’t you start off painting it with yellow and red? How did you end up with,” you turn the painting around to show him, “painting this?”
Delicate pinks and purples dotted just right to look like wisteria flowers and a big tree trunk in the very center of it. It just wasn’t fair that he was so good at conceptualizing these kinds of things. You have to wonder if he just had a natural talent for it or if it was something he honed over time. Either way, you know he didn’t get that art degree for nothing.
Keigo chuckles and sets aside his painting. “I looked at your sweater last night and thought I saw wisteria flowers sprouting out, I got my inspiration from you. Also you seemed really into the color purple last night so that helped too. Although you did also give me an idea last night too.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you close to him and reaches one hand underneath your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back. “That whole ‘paint me thing’ you said yesterday... I was wondering if one day you’d let me paint on you?”
You tilt your head to the side, “What do you mean?”
“Like... just let me paint on your body one day. I can get those body friendly paints and just make a picture on you.” Keigo explains with a sheepish smile coming onto his face despite how tired he looks. “It kinda turned on me on last night when you said you wanted me to paint you inside and I just thought ‘well what if I actually did?’ But not with my cum I mean, though I wouldn’t mind that either.“
The thought of laying down for Keigo while he does such a thing, it sounds quite intimate. You look into his eyes, his pupils still a little wide but it’s only a few more hours for the acid to exit your bodies. It was intense last night but you were glad to have done it with Keigo and even though you think the art you did last night is sort of crap now, you can’t deny that it was sort of fun to do it still.
Your paintings lay to the side, his own stupidly good wisteria painting sitting alongside your glittered starry night and sunset painting. Strange how your eyes perceived everything last night from elongated lengths, the dynamically changing colors you saw when you shut your eyes, you felt everything alive around rather than thinking of the furniture as mere static objects, the red wings and feather you swore you felt against your skin when Keigo fucked his cock into you, everything was beautiful and you couldn’t have asked for a better first time.
You’d like to do it again.
“Can I dove? Can I paint on you one day?”
“... Yeah, I’d like that.”
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In favor of Chicago
nurse student!Johnny x art student!reader // SMUT, FLUFF, angst?
Summary: Dating your ex’s best friend turned out to be a life changing chapter of your life... and you two can’t have sex because he thinks he has STD.
Word count: 11k
Warnings: Mentions of STD, swearing, explicit mature themes, unprotected sex, back to back cheating, oral, sending of sex tape without consent.
Note: This is just a fic, purely from my imagination.
The library was packed when you decided to work on your Claude Monet paper that you have to hand to Mr. Moon before you head home. Picking a spot where a lot of students sitting and getting stunned by your presence was a huge distraction to you and hearing them gossip about your love life was way beyond disturbing. So the word is out. Not that you cared, but your attention span is really short. Being popular in college was not actually bad, but at times like this you just want to be a no one.
You’re in deep concentration with your paper and you’re five paragraphs away from finishing it. Taking a short break to check your phone and update your boyfriend that you’re almost done and you will go straight home after you hand this to your professor.
Jaehyun: So now you’re fucking my best friend? Real classy, y/n.
Jaehyun: How did this happened?
Jaehyun: Where are you? We need to talk.
Last time you check Jaehyun is not talking to you but now that the word is already out he suddenly cares. The breakup you had with Jaehyun was actually peaceful no fighting or shouting just pure talking and a lot of crying. Jaehyun is not the person you’re expecting to message you right now, you haven’t talked to each other since the night he broke up with you. So what if the popular girl is dating the university’s fuckboy? Is Johnny not allowed to finally settle in with someone?
Speaking of the devil, when you were headed to the faculty Johnny called you. You figure maybe he’s done with his shift at the university hospital.
“Hello” you answered your phone with a sweet smile that too bad Johnny won’t see.
“Hey, just calling to check if you’re okay. You know, everyone is going crazy about finding out about our relationship” through the phone you hear him open his locker, you’re right his shift is over.
“Well, they’re eight months late. Johnny were not hiding, I think everyone was just not looking enough... until now” you giggle through the phone and he couldn’t agree more.
“Okay okay, I’ll see you at your place. Just need to do something here at the hospital, will not take long but you go home safe, okay?” You answered a sweet “okay” still walking and smiling all by yourself like a crazy person.
“I love you my future art curator”
“I love you too my future nurse”
As you went home safely and take a hot shower before Johnny comes, you were brushing your teeth when the door opens and you finally see your sleepless boyfriend. For the first time today. He wraps his arms around your waist letting you finish brushing your teeth in peace. His chin rests comfortably on top of your shoulders, hearing him let go deep and heavy sigh.
For a normal person a sigh may be a sign of ’tiredness’ but for Johnny, it means he’s finally with you and he’s really happy to be with you now, watching you brush your teeth.
“I brought you your favorite Chinese takeout” he said as you two walk towards your small kitchen kissing him with your minty lips. Seeing the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter already making your place smell like freshly cooked stir fry, “yum, baby! Oh I’ve been craving”
After dinner you and Johnny are cuddled up in the middle of your bed. His giant figure does not fit in your small bed but he loves sleeping beside you. Sleeping beside you is like having sex with you but without actually having sex.
“Good night” he said softly, but it doesn’t really mean he’s going to sleep. It means, ‘close your eyes and relax while I make you feel good until you pass out’. You feel his hand creep around your stomach, lifting you sleepwear up to expose your boobs. Soon his lips touch yours, kissing you like how he loves you, feeling smiles in between kisses. As you lay on your back comfortably and Johnny kissing you down until you’re buried under the soft pillows, his big hands continues to cup your boobs, pinch your nipples and brushing his thumb on it because it’s your favorite thing.
“Why don’t you tell me about your day? I’ll listen” he said pulling away from your lips so you could talk. Johnny starts to kiss your jaw down to your neck until the valley between your boobs. You feel wild, open mouth kisses around your upper body hands are playing with your boobs, sliding on your sides, soothing your tummy as he goes down. You try to construct your sentence as you start telling him about your day.
“I’m d-down with my last few papers…” he’s taking time kissing your lower abdomen before removing your thin shorts and panties. “just a few more research papers and professor Moon will write me a recommendation paper for the intern- fuck, Johnny” it became harder for you to talk when he finally stick his thumb on your wet clothed pussy, slowly removing the fabric down to your legs, spreading it wide and blow cold air on your pussy lips. You shiver at what Johnny did and tried to close your legs but he’s quick to stop it.
“Baby, continue” Johnny demands before devouring your pussy finally.
You can’t stop moving your hips once his tongue touched your pussy. The way his tongue glides up and down your pussy just tells you how wet you are and horny for Johnny. “If the company liked my portfolio, I’ll land an internship there and there will be a big possibility that they will absorb me- hmmm!” pushing your hips to his mouth to feel more of his tongue, imagining that it’s his cock he’s fucking you with.
“Oh-baby, mind spreading my pussy lips?” you know it’s a request Johnny can’t refuse, and so he did. Spreading your pussy lips with both of his hands, licking your cunt up and down fast and hitting that nerve. Johnny is proud how well he’s making you feel good, listening to your moans and watching you between your legs with eyes closed, lips parted and gasping loudly.
You don’t know what to do with your hands by this time. Touch Johnny’s soft hair and push his head more against your cunt? Cup your boobs and touch yourself? Grip the sheets?
Yes.
Grip the sheets. That way you wont hurt Johnny or yourself with those long nails of yours. Throwing yourself on edge, Johnny gave your slit long slow licks from bottom to your clit, both if his hands still holding your pussy lips. Pushing your hips off the bed to feel more, rolling your hips fast on Johnny’s tongue hitting his mouth, using it completely to go off.
He knew you reached your sweet climax when your legs are shivering and you’re gripping the pillows tightly, moaning and grunting softly. You feel your body warm and sweaty and to be honest, you can’t feel your legs. Still breathing heavily and catching your breath, you feel Johnny clean the mess between your thighs, got you a clean pair of panties, rolled down your sleepwear and covered you with the thick sheets.
“How I wish we could really have sex” you know it’s the wrong thing to mention but you just can’t help it. It’s not fair that Johnny fucked almost half of the population of pretty girls at the university and now that he’s your boyfriend he can’t have sex with you… “At least I don’t have to worry about getting you knocked up” he jokes but deep inside you know he’s hurting. As you two lay in bed tired and still horny, you finished the night like how you two usually do. Kiss. Finish the night with dirty and filthy smooches.
Eight or nine months ago, just when you and Johnny are getting started with your blooming relationship he admitted that he’s not sure if he’s clean. “Well why don’t you get tested?” you asked worriedly propping your elbow on the mattress and facing him. “I’m scared of the results. I-I’m not yet ready, you know? What if I have it, or or worst-“ Johnny sounded scared, sad and angry all at the same time.
“What if you’re not? Baby, I’m not forcing you but I’m telling you it’s the right thing to do.” And that scares Johnny the most, when you tell him to go take the test but he had to refuse.
“I’m sorry, Y/n. I really can’t do it. I feel fine, healthy, and as long as I can breathe, walk and study, I will not take the test. Not until I’m ready. I can’t let it ruin my future” he finished explaining and closed his eyes, bringing his hand in the middle of his forehead and gently massage it.
From there on, you don’t question him why. But you do tell him to go take the test without sounding like you’re forcing him to do something he’s not ready to do. Instead, you both enjoyed the relationship you had. Sex free and full of love. Though you two can be filthy at times, but most of the time your intimacy comes in different shapes and sizes.
And that fuckboy reputation? Completely gone.
You knew what you signed up for. You expect Johnny to cheat and find different women in his apartment whenever you visit, getting yourself ready for multiple heartbreaks and never ending forgiveness. But no, the boy was completely loyal to you and it’s almost too good to be true. Johnny has been fucking around since his freshman days, showing off different girls night after night, and not taking nursing school seriously. It’s a miracle how he managed to keep his GPA. “I always envy Jaehyun. I always want to have someone like you, I think I just got lucky to have exactly who I want”
The relationship you two built is like no other. It’s like you’re both facing adulthood together and finding a way to make life easier with the help of each other. Being a senior in college means you’ll have a hectic schedule before you finally graduate.
For Johnny, that’s being an intern at the university hospital and taking shifts there until he’s qualified to transfer to another hospital. For you, you’re taking up classes and finishing a few papers and wait for The Art Institute of Chicago take you as an intern. It was never easy but the you have Johnny and he has you.
You believe that Johnny is the man you’re marrying someday and you’re willing to take care of your relationship with him whatever it takes. Johnny thinks the same way, over the past few years he’s been watching you and Jaehyun love each other wildly. And now that he has you, he will not fuck it up. “I didn’t stole you from Jaehyun, right?”
You giggle at his question thinking how someone like him is actually worried from stealing you from your ex. “No, Johnny. We broke up months ago when you came back from Chicago. I remember telling you the story though-“
“Yeah, yeah. I know. Just checking again”
As the world watches you two have a peaceful relationship, a lot of people try so hard to ruin what you two got. You’ve been getting a lot of messages and stories about how different girls fucked Johnny already, telling you that he’s probably cheating right now at this very second. But again, you knew Johnny better than anyone else because you are his first love and he only opened his heart for you. Besides, those bitches got nothing on you.
While different girls try to ruin Johnny’s image for you, a specific someone tries to ruin your image for Johnny. Your ex, Jaehyun. But just like you, Johnny knew better than losing his shit for Jaehyun.
Days and weeks went on like this and stress just keeps getting the best out of you and Johnny. You’re busy writing hundred pages long for a specific artist, and Johnny is busy with hospital duties. Which is making him crazy without his coping mechanism and stress relief that is usually sex. And he knew all too well that he can’t have sex with you even if he use a condom.
One night he found you sleeping soundly on your bed and he was completely exhausted because of overtime and he really needs you right now. He kissed you softly until you wake up, your eyes were really tired from facing your computer the whole day but you understand that Johnny is home, so you need to wake up. “I missed you” he whispers softly, feeling soft touches around your thighs. Lips still on Johnny’s and you’re not planning to pull away any minute, “can’t make you eat me tonight baby, you’re dead tired” you said with a hoarse voice, it surprised you when he shook his head. Telling you to be quiet, he gently removed your shorts and panties and giving your pussy a peck.
You watch him put his middle finger in his mouth as he sucks it while looking into your eyes making you feel shy and exposed that your legs are widely spread in front of him and your cunt is waiting to be touched. But it’s Johnny you don’t need to be shy.
He insert his middle finger inside your tight cunt a little rough. Pulling it and out from you, making you crazy and moan loudly. “close your eyes” he said with the most sexiest voice ever. Your mind goes to every scenario possible. Ice play? Overstimulation? Fucking you with a dildo?
Feeling excited as you wait for him to make his move, you don’t know but he’s unbuckling his belt, removing his pants and pumping his cock. Hesitating to fuck you raw and making an unreasonable decision to have sex with you tonight.
“This will feel good baby, I promise”
His hands are both on the sides of your head, taking advantage of your closed eyes. Your heart is thumping loud you swear you can hear it. Smiling wildly feeling Johnny’s kisses on your neck until you feel the tip of his cock lining at your entrance.
Everything happened so fast. You pushed him way to hard like he was some kind of rapist. Immediately feeling the guilt and regret that you let yourself open your legs wide for him. Wearing your panties again and putting back your thin shorts, feeling angry at the man you love and you don’t know what to do with him.
Johnny is apologising over and over and over again but you don’t listen to him. You don’t hate him of course, you’re just… scared and worried for yourself because this is the first time Johnny became like this.
“I’ll pretend this never happened Johnny. I’ll sleep on the couch, you need to sleep well tonight”
How do you expect him to sleep like a baby after what’s happened? On the next day, he felt like shit and even more guilty when he found out you already left for your morning classes. He made it to the hospital without any sleep and rest, and it was a tough day at the hospital.
“Well you look like shit” His friend Karen gave him another cup of cheap coffee from the vending machine because she thought Johnny needed it. “Rough night?” she added, keeping Johnny’s attention to her.
“Tell me about it. Fucking newbies don’t know what to do most of the time, can you believe that shit” he let it out really annoyed and tired, drank the coffee in one down. It wasn’t really hot, it’s always like that that’s why it’s cheap.
Karen is an intern from another university, a younger nurse than Johnny. If he’s single and if he doesn’t have you, he will definitely fuck Karen at the nurse lounge. And he can’t believe he’s thinking about banging his co-intern after what happened last night.
“I get you. Being a junior in this hospital fucking stresses me out, I’ve never been to a hospital so stressful. I mean for an intern like me? It’s too much, don’t you think?” she sighs, “I need sex, lots of sex”
Johnny almost choke when he heard what she said, he can’t believe they’re thinking the same thing. ’Sex.’
“Now that I let that out of my chest, do you… uhm” she scratched her neck being awkward about the situation she singlehandedly made. “Want to have sex…with me? I heard you’re like uhm, popular here because of… you know. Definitely no strings attached just pure adult stress release”
Being from another school definitely made her miss the memo that Johnny is with the most popular girl in campus, running valedictorian, and basically his future wife. The saddest part is, Johnny thought he’s completely a changed man and that no other temptation can make him turn his back around and dive into hooking up with other girls. It makes him sad that he’s about to do it.
The two hit it off at the empty nurse lounge at the other building’s basement. Since they’re both familiar with how the hospital works, they’re sure know no one will catch them there.
In the middle of pounding Karen and Johnny’s balls deep inside her, it felt really good now that he’s fucking someone again. Imagining that it’s you he’s fucking feeling the guilt even more. “Why didn’t we did this a little sooner?” Karen was moaning uncontrollably, muffling her screams whenever Johnny tells her to be quiet and give her ass a juicy slap.
“Feels good, fuck. You aren’t a virgin right? But fuck it feels like a virgin’s hole” his hands are on her hips watching how her massive boobs bounce up and down right in front of him. Thumbing Karens clit, pushing her on edge careful not to release at the condom yet. He pulls out immediately and licks her cunt until she cums. Letting her shiver on top of the hospital bed with no sheets. He slams back inside her again, making her cum using his cock giving her the full experience of being fucked by Johnny.
“It’s good that we fit… You know that?” he grunts while fucking her with a steady pace letting Karen moan his name loudly until he cums finally.
Feeling guilty and shy as hell, he cleans himself and went outside the room letting Karen make herself presentable again.
While Johnny is inside someone’s pussy and having the time of his life, you on the other hand who is completely clueless, is thinking about making him dinner and tell him the good news that you finally got the internship in Chicago.
“You leave in two weeks” you remember Mr. Moon telling you the great news. Calling every person that actually cares for you and telling them the big news, screaming and shouting on the phone excitedly as you walk back to your apartment. Still wondering why Johnny haven’t answered his phone.
You put on some classical music to calm your excited nerves, making Johnny his favorite dish and trying to finish everything up before he arrives. Opening a glass of wine and drinking it while you cook, thinking how you more than deserved this.
“Hi, babe! Right on time, I have good news” you welcomed him with kisses at the hallway and walked him towards the dinning room. “But first let’s eat dinner while the food is hot”
All throughout the dinner you noticed Johnny’s mood. Maybe he’s tired? You can’t take the silence anymore so you asked what’s wrong, hoping that it’s nothing serious. Did he finally take the test? It’s making you anxious every second that passes. He’s not looking to you in the eye, he’s not touching his food but he already had three glasses of wine.
“I had sex with someone. Today, at the hospital”
EIGHT MONTHS AGO
Before your last semester as a junior in college ends, Jaehyun decided to breakup with you. “I just don’t see my future anymore with you, Y/n” his exact words. After being together since high school and almost half of your college years, putting up with every bullshit he gave you for the last six years now he’s finally letting you go. Thankfully the breakup was nothing but peaceful and there were no shouting or cursing at each other. But it was painful for you.
This is your first summer without Jaehyun and theres no better way to heal from a breakup by getting yourself busy. You’ve been working on your portfolio day and night and you think it’s better than just watching a sad Netflix movie. There’s no way that you’re not going to land your future job in Chicago right after graduation so you worked your ass off.
Today you need to mail a physical copy of your portfolio and went to the post office alone to your surprise you saw a certain someone. Johnny Seo, Jaehyun’s best friend. Looking a little different from the last time you saw him.
“It’s great to see you...in a post office” he said and you both laughed awkwardly. He noticed your well wrapped thick portfolio and figured things out from there. He quickly received what he was going to get and helped you mail out your item.
“How are things with Jaehyun? I heard he quit being a dj for the school radio when I went home to Chicago. The fool didn’t want any partner but me” he said as he walks with you not knowing where to go.
You figured he wasn’t around when Jaehyun broke up with you so he missed the news. “We broke up, two or three months ago, I think” trying not to look so hurt by what you said, you avoid eye contact and looked at your shoes as you both continue to walk. He apologised for what he said and for being insensitive but you told him it’s fine, he was away that time so you understand him.
“Well, you don’t look fine. Can I buy you ice cream?” it was a leap of faith for Johnny to ask you to spend some time with him and he was hoping you would really give him a chance.
“Is this the part where you ask me out and ask me to sleep with you because I’m not with Jae anymore?” heart beats really fast because of what you just said. You didn’t mean to be bold and straightforward but knowing about his fuckboy reputation in campus just makes you put your guard up.
Now that you’re not with Jaehyun anymore you figure maybe you don’t have the immunity from being added to the list of the girls he fucked already.
“No y/n, I’m simply being nice to you. And if I want to fuck you I’d tell you ‘let’s get out of here so we can have sex’ but I didn’t right?”
You feel ashamed for what kind of behaviour you showed him but Johnny is nice enough to still buy you ice cream. At the the end of the day you had a great time eating ice cream with him and talked about random stuff. Maybe you’re exaggerating a little but you feel alive again after for so long.
Way back when you and Jaehyun are together, you only see Johnny when you’re looking for Jaehyun at the dorm or whenever Jaehyun is way too drunk to walk, Johnny is the person to call. They’ve been friends since they were freshmen and just building their own selves through college. Jaehyun is the university’s star athlete and sexy chef while Johnny is the known hot fuckboy from the nursing department. Everyone is crazy about them especially when they started to dj at the university’s radio. Their ratings were high because people simply can’t get enough of their handsomeness.
Ever since Jaehyun introduced you to Johnny, he always tells you how sometimes Johnny looked at you like you were some type of meal that he’s been craving for. “You don’t know him like I do, babe. Just promise me to avoid him even if he’s being nice, even if he’s my best bud.”
But now that you’ve been hanging out a lot with Johnny you see him as a warm person. Nice enough to help you land a good internship once senior year starts, a family guy who loves his parents so much, and gentleman enough to sneak in your room using your opened window while you’re sleeping.
“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday happy birthday... happy birthday to you”
In your dark room, you heard him singing you happy birthday just when the clock strikes twelve. Johnny is holding a small cupcake with one lit candle, smiling so sweetly to you as he waits for you to make a wish and blow the candle.
No one has ever surprised you in such a way and you didn’t expect that Johnny will be the first. “How did you even get in?” whispering and careful not to be heard by your parents you asked Johnny and he points to you the opened window as his answer.
It’s weird how things move so fast for you and Johnny but slow enough to achieve what you both had in mind. You think it’s too early for Johnny to put his arm around you while walking outside the neighbourhood, incredibly close to each other but you let him. You don’t know why you let him sneak in your room almost every night and spend the night with him just laying on your bed talking softly and giggling like little kids.
Not wanting him to leave yet, you invite him to lay with you in bed. Letting him slide under covers and keep you warm. It’s obvious that you two like each other but no one is taking advantage of that but today’s your birthday, being selfish for once won’t ruin your ‘friendship’ with Johnny.
“Can I kiss you?” You blurted out.
“Can I kiss you?” He repeats your question, emphasis on the ‘I’ and you nod your head as your answer. “Happy birthday” he added before kissing you again sweetly, putting you on top of him. Enjoying how his lips are finally touching yours, enjoying the happiness you’re feeling after being trapped to someone for so long.
As senior year starts you spend almost every second and every minute with Johnny now that you move out from Jaehyun’s apartment and have your own. Johnny didn’t move in with you but he basically lives with you because he can’t stand not being with you with every time he’s got free time. No one knows how senior year will eat up the time you two should be together and Johnny came prepared for that.
“Let me live with you here but not really live, live… get it? I can take care of you, I’m going to be your private nurse, I will do the laundry, I will give you pleasure” he kissed the knuckles of your right hand, “I will be your boyfriend. I will show you how a proper boyfriend should treat his girlfriend. Once we’re both interns in Chicago, I promise you… we’ll stay at our house”
“That’s a lot of promises Johnny Seo. Chill, you can live with me. Let’s take care of each other, you don’t need to do everything”
“How did I get so lucky!” he’s squeezing you with a tight hug on the couch, bodies closer as usual.
And you did took care of each other. Whenever you feel sick, tired, or worn out, Johnny is always present. Him being a nurse is actually good for someone who gets sick a lot. You made him be a better person, helping him study more for nursing exams and helping him maintain his GPA.
Playing house isn’t the term, but you two helped each other whenever someone is struggling financially. If Johnny is short for his tuition money, you don’t hesitate to cover for it.
“Do you want to stop studying? In the middle of fucking senior year?”
“No” Johnny accepts defeat.
“Then shut up and take my money, come on I’ll pay with you”
And if you’re the one who’s short for rent money, Johnny got you covered. He doesn’t tell it to you but you found out that he’s been paying for your rent fee whenever you’re behind.
“Do you want to live in my small apartment? With Ten?”
“No” This time it’s you who accepts defeat.
“Thought so too. You don’t want to live with two filthy nurses right? So I already took care of the rent baby, you don’t have to worry about it”
EIGHT MONTHS AFTER / PRESENT TIME
“This is it then? You’re breaking up with me?”
“No. Johnny I’m not breaking up with you. All I’m asking is some space, let me think about staying in this relationship. Let me think about what you did. I’m trying my best to convince myself not to leave you, so please just give me some space”
“Baby, please. It doesn’t mean anything”
“Sure it doesn’t but what if I do the same thing to you?” your tone was a little loud this time, every second this conversation grew you, your frustrations grew double. “You will be heartbroken just like me right now. I don’t know if Im fooling myself for thinking that maybe you’re the one for me, now I’m asking space so I can make sure that I still want you to be part of my life”
Johnny was speechless when you walked out in front of him. He wanted to ran to you and beg for more but he needs to get back to the hospital.
It’s been a painful three days for the both of you. Neither one of you functions well. You’re a wreck, he’s a wreck. And truth be told you both can’t afford a breakup right now because it might affect your work performance. At least that’s how you feel about the breakup, you don’t know about Johnny.
During the nights you were sleeping alone, you remember how you and Johnny dance and drink beer in the middle of a bar that has a live band. And no one would care if you two were just enjoying your own little world. Walking around campus hand in hand while he’s eating his sandwich in his hospital scrubs and you’re holding a book and reading about more artists. It doesn’t matter if no one is talking, what matters most is that you’re together.
Sure he’s just some guy but he’s been a part of you already. And what Johnny did ruined your relationship. You’re crying right now because you’re madly, deeply in love with him and what he did is like putting a knife straight to your heart and you don’t know what to do about it.
The night before you leave for Chicago, Johnny went to your apartment after his long hour shift. You can see that he’s tired and sleepless but he still chose to go to your apartment, “I’ll help you pack” he said weakly heading towards to your closet and folded your clothes. It’s not that you’re letting him help you, you don’t have the energy to argue further with him.
It was dead quiet. Something has never happened in this apartment of your whenever Johnny is around. The air feels heavy and you want him to leave now after he zips your luggage. “Listen, uhm- I maybe can’t drive you to the airport tomorrow. I have an early shift-“
“It’s okay. I can handle everything by myself” You’re still not looking at him, crossing your arms waiting for him to head out. At this point, why are you still surprise that Johnny can’t drop you off.
“Okay. Uh… Can I hug you?” he was hopeful you can see it in his eyes. You want to grant his request but that’s not how space works.
“Good night Johnny, you know the way out. Get some sleep.”
On the next day, it’s a good thing that you’re excited and you don’t feel sad and bad for yourself. This is the only thing that you have full control with, your future. After everything you did to get where you are right now, you can say that you’re proud of yourself. You’re excited to work, meet Mr. Choi and have the time of your life.
“Chicago is great, Mr. Choi and the company gave me an amazing apartment. And the people at work are so nice, not to mention the Museum! Ugh! The museum is beautiful, Wendy! You should go visit here” since you don’t have Johnny to tell all these stories, you pour them all to your best friend, Wendy.
“That’s great! Hey, listen…” she clears her throat, “Have you talked to Johnny lately?”
“N-no, why would I?”
“I don’t know y/n? He’s been asking me every week about you and he looks like shit, though I heard he nailed that internship there… In Chicago. So you know, prepare yourself?”
“Thanks for the heads up Wendy. It’s okay, tell him I’m fine and I’m doing great here” After you hung up on Wendy, theres a familiar figure that’s looking for old LP records and you decided to take a closer look. Before you could even get closer, the man turned around and saw you.
“Y/n!”
Jung fucking Jaehyun. Looking so handsome as always. Just like the firs time you met him, but now he has brown hair. “What are you doing here in Chicago?” you asked him, staring like a statue and you didn’t know you have the brightest smile flashing in front of him.
“I’m an intern here. You know cooking meals for some famous people, I’m actually here for about three months already I’ll go back to campus in a matter of weeks. Wait for graduation when I get back, how about you?”
“I just got here a week ago, I finally got the internship at The Art Institute”
With Jung Jaehyun’s presence you suddenly felt home again. You’re happy that he’s finishing his internship here and he’s going to have his own restaurant when he graduates. Jaehyun was excited to tell you all of his plans for himself and for his business. You on the other hand, thought that maybe breaking up wasn’t so bad.
He invited you to his place and told you he’ll make you dinner, “come one, just like old times” he winks at you and put an arm over your shoulder.
You watch Jaehyun cook in his small but decent kitchen, and you got to admit you miss watching him cook his heart out for you. It’s only been a few months since you two broke up and you can’t believe he has changed so much.
“Try this, it’s hot though” he put he fork right in front of your mouth and gave you a mouthful of pasta. “Hmm! Jaehyun, it’s good” he chuckles at your reaction, watching you eat the past with some garlic bread.
“I only hear you moan like that in bed” he said, smiling at you and teasing you like you two never broke up in the first place. Playfully you smack his arm and continue eating.
The night went on and on of you two talking about your past. After one casserole of pasta and three bottles of wine, you’re now laying on the couch with Jaehyun in between his legs with a small blanket on your leg.
“You sure Johnny won’t mind of you being here?” you feel the vibrations of his voice against your back whenever he talks.
“He wouldn’t dare. Were kind of not together now. He slept with someone from the hospital before we could even, do it.”
“So you never had sex? That’s a shocker, I used to think you two fuck like rabbits”
“Jaehyun you’re disgusting” as much as it disgust you, it made you giggle and laugh, “Johnny thinks he’s not clean, he can’t have sex with me. He’s scared to be tested”
You don’t see it but Jaehyun is really disappointed with Johnny. “I may be an asshole to you, but I never cheated” Jaehyun says proudly, reaching for his glass of wine and drinking it in one down. Hugging you from behind and keeping you close to him, you can smell his familiar perfume. Something you haven’t smell for some time now but you still know it’s Jaehyun’s.
“Do you miss it? The sex?” he broke the comfortable silence.
“Of course. You know me Jae, sex was like a big part of our relationship. But that was us. Me and Johnny were okay even though we don’t get to have sex, but yeah sometimes I miss it. And maybe Johnny missed it a little too much”
After having great dinner at his apartment, Jaehyun brought you to your apartment safe and sound. Inviting you again for the next day, “I could stop by at the museum and we’ll go grocery shopping” it wasn’t a bad idea, you’re sucker for good a great company and Jaehyun is the perfect person for that. Before Jaehyun fly back home, you two spent time with each other. He brought you to he restaurant, you brought him to the museum.
Jaehyun is the one doing Johnny’s promises to you.
Four days before Jaehyun leaves, is supposed to be the date of your seventh year anniversary. “Let’s celebrate it, no ones going to die if we celebrate it” Jaehyun said through the phone, inviting you to his place again tonight, to celebrate. It’s not a good idea of course but it will be just good food, wine and a lot of talking.
Or so you thought. The whole dinner time Jaehyun was flirting with you and you’ve been rolling your eyes over and over again for the past three hours.
You’re looking at his LP collection while you listen closely to the music he played. Standing in front of the record player reading the track list and sipping wine. You feel Jaehyun put your hair on the other side of your neck and kiss your exposed shoulders. Soft lips on your skin, hands caressing your shoulders, you miss this feeling.
“Were both single and were not looking for relationship. We both want the same thing, right” his voice is deep whenever he wants something from you. You nod at what he said quickly turning you around to face him. Kissing you without a warning, tasting the expensive wine that still lingers on your lips.
Leaving the record play beautifully as you two walk towards his room, leaving a trail of your discarded clothes on floor and reaching the bed already fully naked. He kissed your neck, whispering how much he missed you, kissing your jaw down to your boobs cupping them and kneading as he goes back to your lips again to tell you, “you always have the prettiest nipples”
Suddenly, you remember Johnny.
You watch him lick your nipples, left and right. Pinching it softly and gently careful not to hurt you and eventually sucking it until it’s both swollen. “Does Johnny knows your nipples turns pink after an hour of just sucking it and playing with it?” you just listen to Jaehyun as he do what he pleases.
“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever been with, I’m an idiot for leaving you” he went down to your exposed sex, kissing it softly but not making you sensitive. You feel him kiss your upper thighs, slowly putting his tongue out when he reaches your pussy lips. “I bet Johnny gave you a lot of oral,” you nod your head weakly watching him smile in between your legs, “I’ll make you wet and fuck you the whole night, something he can’t do” it breaks your heart hearing those words.
Jaehyun spits on your cunt and kept it wet and ready for his cock, playing with your hole for some time so you won’t get hurt. When you finally saw him pump his cock and line it to your entrance, you’re tempted for a second to make him stop so you closed your legs.
“We’ve done this a thousand time y/n, it’s just me” Jaehyun made sure to make you calm and remind you that this is just sex, “this wont mean anything” he added.
With one smooth thrust, Jaehyun is inside you. And after for so long you’re having sex again with the same man who fucked you for the past six years. You put your legs around his waist, keeping him close to you as he thrust in and out. “Happy anniversary” he teases while giving you hard thrusts that makes you grunt and your boobs bounce. Chest to chest and forehead to forhead, Jaehyun is fucking you good. Moaning his name as you enjoy the feeling that you’ve been missing for the last couple of months.
“I was hurt when I found out about you and Johnny” he gave you hard piercing thrust. One by one, putting his anger on his thrust remembering how it hurt when he knew about you and Johnny. “I didn’t broke up with you so he could have you, no no” he’s giving you the same thrust hearing him breath heavily. You on the other hand is taking it all, the hurt and stretch of his cock, the impact of his thrust, his bites on your shoulder, everything.
You and Jaehyun fucked again and again that night. Kissing your body to sleep on his cozy apartment, and doing the same thing the moment he wakes up. “Good morning beautiful, what do you want for breakfast?” he kisses you body all over until he finally sees your sweet smile and morning glow, “and don’t tell me you want me for breakfast. Please you worn me out last night” he added, kissing your lips and smiling at you.
Poking his dimples before you tell him what you want for breakfast, he catches your finger and playfully bites it. “I’m fine with pancakes and strawberries, with lots of syrup and freshly brewed coffee”
“Okay. Now get your sexy ass in the shower, I’ll make us breakfast” he kissed you one last time before he heads to the kitchen.
When Jaehyun heard you’re busy inside the bathroom, he messaged Johnny. Sending him a video of you and him, having sex last night. Feeling so accomplished that this time Johnny will feel double the hurt Jaehyun felt when he found out about your relationship. Soon after he flipped a couple of pancakes, Johnny replied to his message.
Johnny: At least delete the fucking video, I don’t need to watch it.
Jaehyun: Meet me at the café near campus tomorrow night. We need to talk.
“Hey chef, the pancake is ready to be flipped” you came out of nowhere and Jaehyun was quick to put away his phone. Giving you his innocent dimpled smile, “here you go” drizzling the syrup on top of the pancakes watching Jaehyun put some confectioners’ sugar. You had a peaceful breakfast with Jaehyun before he could leave and catch his flight back.
“Jae, just so you know… I still love Johnny. I will take of the consequences just please, don’t tell what happened- I’m ashamed”
It’s too late for that now, Jaehyun kissed your forehead and promised you not to meddle. Even though he already did, just like you he will face the consequences by himself.
Johnny on the other hand feels so broken. You’re right, it hurts like hell. He didn’t need to watch the video but it was a wake up call for him. He’s tired of just sitting back and watching you slowly fade in his life. If he wanted to prove something to you, he knows exactly what he needs to do.
“Hey Ten, I need you to do me favor- fuck, I don’t how to do this but, I need to get tested today. Before I fly to Chicago in a week, I need to finally do it. I’m losing her”
Ten is Johnny’s best friend, he pulled some strings at the hospital to make the test and the results private. Johnny is a famous man and every person who knew him will lose their shit if they found out about the STD testing.
Jaehyun and Johnny met at the café as planned. The tension between the two men grew worst when Jaehyun told Johnny that he’s been sleeping with you for a week even though that part is not true and that you two celebrated your seventh year anniversary.
“I came here for y/n, not to listen about your little play house with her” Johnny let out a big sigh and sipped on his coffee, “she needs you there and as much as it hurts me, I’m thankful you guys met there”
Jaehyun was lost, but surprised that Johnny is not using his fists anymore to settle things like how he used to. “She loved you more than she could ever love me, and dude you fucking wasted it. Even though you fucking cheated, she still loves you like crazy.”
“I’m well aware of my mistakes Jaehyun, that’s why I’m making things right from now on. Funny how I used to fuck every girl just for fun but now that I want to have sex with someone I love, I can’t.”
“Why didn’t you just use a condom?”
“Are you stupid? The fact that I’m doubting if i’m clean is not safe for her already. She doesn’t deserve that”
“And the girl you cheated with deserved shit? Oh come on Johnny-“
“She got tested and it’s negative so you could shut the fuck up now Jaehyun”
“Okay okay. Now it’s time for me to talk” Jaehyun clears his throat and looked at Johnny straight in his eyes, “I’m getting her back. And once I do that, I will treat her right”
“I doubt that Jaehyun. She loves me”
Jaehyun’s threat scared the shit out of Johnny if he’s being honest. And putting up a straight face in front of Jaehyun was hard, Johnny knew he is capable of getting you back. The fact that you two slept together again is a good sighn for Jaehyun already, and Johnny is scared to the bone right now. He took the earliest flight to Chicago after a week and he will find you and do everything just to win you back.
It’s a busy day for you and tonight you can impress your boss and show him what you’ve got. The Art Institute of Chicago will held a public screening by morning until after and a private screening on the evening. You mentally cheer for yourself as you read notes and guidelines for today’s event, nervous but you’re sure as hell you can do it.
Just as you’re finished for the first part of your work, your high heels is killing you right now so you decided to get out of the crowd and rest your feet some place quieter. As you stretch your feet and grunt for a few times, you saw someone standing in front of Claud Monet’s Water Lilies.
“Good evening sir, unfortunately this is a private screening-“
“Oh sorry, I didn’t know that. But I do know someone special to me that Claude Monet is her favorite artist. She scans her father’s books and she found countless of pictures of Monet’s landscape works, and she tries to copy it. That’s how you started to love art.”
You told him that story on one of those peaceful nights back in your room before senior year even starts. Not expecting him to remember that stupid story of you decided you wanted to pursue art. That was the first time you opened up to Johnny and told him more personal stuff about you.
“h-hi, I really didn’t know that this is a private screening. I just wanted to see you, watch you work from a far and talk when your work is done”
“No, it’s fine. Though I should get back, sorry” you walk away from him and try to hurry back to the event but suddenly you felt like crying. You love Johnny with all your heart but the relationship you had right now is complicated and you want to fix it so bad but you don’t know how to. With big steps and not minding your tortured feet, you came back to Johnny and hugged him. “I’ll be right back baby. This won’t take long”
Johnny didn’t want to let you go, he just wanted to hug you and keep you close. He kissed your forehead and watched you walk away from him with tears on your eyes and a big smile. Mouthing him that you’ll be back.
After a long day at the art institute and in Johnny’s case having a long flight, you two entered your apartment with lips never leaving each other. “I miss you so much” Johnny said in between kisses, keeping you close to him.
You feel him unbutton your shirt but you stopped him. Breathing heavily as you pull away from him and hold his hand down, “lets talk, yeah? I have to tell you something” you walk towards the kitchen and made you two coffee first. Johnny grew silent waiting for you to talk, completely clueless that you’re having a hard time constructing your sentence.
“Is this about Jaehyun?”
You stopped what you’re doing and turned to face him, “how did you-“
“We talked, man to man. And I want you to know that it hurt me but, I don’t care. I’m crazy in love about you y/n, I know you are too. And right now what we have is complicated but look where we are right now? We fucked up because were not perfect, lust is lust and we both learned that the hard way” it hurts Johnny to watch you cry in front of him but he can’t move his legs. Like you he’s overwhelmed and full of emotions, he wanted to give you some air. “I bet you were thinking about me when you two did it, because I did when I did it when Karen”
You nod without hesitating, reaching in for him because you feel weak and Johnny catches you with a tight hug. “I’m sorry baby, I started this that’s why I’m fixing it. If you want me get on my knees and apologise I will do it, just to win back” he said with a hoarse voice, whimpering like a child. It almost didn’t sound like Johnny because you see him as this tough guy but now he’s just vulnerable.
“What are you talking about, I’m the who messed up big time. I’m sorry too can you give me another chance?” tears fall down to your face and it’s getting hard to talk because of your heavy crying. But Johnny was giggling in front of you admiring how cute you are right now. Giving you a soft kiss that tastes salty because of tears.
There’s a saying that sometimes we have to kiss the wrong man to know what’s right. In your case, you have to fall hard and fucked up so bad to realise that you want to be with Johnny forever. What you and Johnny had was real and you learned it the hard way.
Of course it was not that easy to start again but one thing is for sure, you’re crazy about each other and you love each other deeply. Setting boundaries and fixing the mess you two made was the hardest part of it. Johnny took care of Karen already and the girl says sorry, you scoff at that thought, “If I see her around the campus, I’m gonna slap the shit out of her” you told Johnny with all your might knowing perfectly well what you’re capable of. He was happy you’re back at being his protective girlfriend.
“Speaking of violence, I might kill Jaehyun if that’s the case baby” he scoffed and pour himself another cup of coffee. Johnny wouldn’t dare ruin your relationship with Jaehyun just because you slept with him, he wanted you to take care of it yourself without him meddling.
“yeah well, no shit” you yawn in front of him, “don’t you have hospital duty?” he shook his head and put your mug on the sink. He stood in between your legs and carried you using his strength, keeping your legs around his waist. He kept on whispering apologies to you, sweet apologies that warms your heart and tighten your hug placing you on the bed gently, “can I sleep here?”
“Of course Johnny. Never leave me”
He let out a soft chuckle and lay beside you, “Never again”
The next day you woke up without Johnny by your side. You’re starting to think that maybe it was a dream? But you smell fresh coffee and toasted bread with butter or maybe that was grilled cheese.
“Good morning, sorry you woke up alone. I had to go to the farmers market” you hugged him from behind, kissing his muscular back “Now, I’m not a good cook like Jaehyun but you always loved my coffee, here” he hands you your hot coffee and asked for a good morning kiss that you happily gave.
“Do you have work today?” he asked looking at your morning face admiring your messy hair and swollen face.
“Nope. What do you have in mind”
“Meet my parents today?” you almost spit your coffee when you hear him say that.
The whole car drive was full of questions about his parents mainly because you have no idea what they’re like. Johnny was amused at how worried you were even though he’s confident they’re going to love you. “How many girls did you introduce to them already?” you asked Johnny nervously watching him laugh at your serious question, “You’re the first. I told you, you’re my first love- will you stop worrying? Look there they are” he waved at them happily as you smiled to his parents, waiting for Johnny to finish parking the car.
First impression to his mother, well she looks nothing like the one you imagined. You can’t believe you imagined your boyfriend’s mom as someone who will stare you down the moment she meets you. In reality, Johnny’s mom is bubbly and she welcomed you with a warm hug the moment you got out of the car. Johnny’s dad looked a lot like him and also welcomed you with a warm hug and a big smile his eyes almost disappears, “come inside, the food is ready”
Johnny’s home is comfortable. A normal asian household in a neighbourhood in Chicago. The dinner is set at a patio in their backyard, every food you see at the table are made by Johnny’s parents. The Seos are funny people, all three of them made you laugh the whole dinner. Telling you stories about Johnny’s childhood and mostly talked about how they love their son. It’s really heart warming because you feel the level of intensity of their love for Johnny and you understand them because you love Johnny too.
“Are you enjoying The Art Institute of Chicago?” Mrs. Seo asked you as she watches you cut the cake and put a piece first on Johnny’s plate. She was watching you the whole time. How you talk to Johnny, how you smile at him, how you answer their questions with respect. She thinks you’re a natural when it comes to caring for her son and that he’s in good hands, and it gives her great relief.
“Yes ma’am, I enjoy every second of it. Though it’s hard to impress my boss and earn a permanent spot at the institute but, I’m getting there and I won’t stop” you gave her a piece too then Mr. Seo. From there on, Johnny couldn’t stop talking about you in front of his parents, he even told them how you clean your apartment spotless.
Meeting Johnny’s family was fun, they were cool parents and you’re positive Johnny got his wits from his mom. Back then you wonder why Johnny is such a gentleman to you but now you know the answer to that question. His dad is a natural sweet guy and a real gentleman. Looking at them made you think that love is real and maybe for the next 30 years that’s going to be you and Johnny.
When it’s time to go home already his parents walked you and Johnny to the car. “If Johnny doesn’t marry you I will seriously get mad” Mrs. Seo whispered beside you letting Johnny and Mr. Seo walk pass you two. You giggled at what she said to you, it makes your heart happy that she likes you. You and Johnny waved goodbye to his parents and gave them hugs before you two leave. “I told you they’d love you” Johnny holds your hand while he drives and kissed your left hand too many times because he can’t kiss you on the lips.
The moment you got back to your apartment you went straight to the bathroom and took a shower leaving Johnny at the living room couch as he rest. While you were busy taking a shower, Johnny messaged Jaehyun and sent him a picture of you and his parents laughing together over dinner.
Johnny: [attached picture] I win. This has to stop Jaehyun. I’m going to propose to her after graduation.
“hey baby, go take a shower while I finish up here” you invited Johnny inside your bathroom, accepting your offer a little too excited. You were busy brushing your teeth when Johnny made his way to the shower trying not to peak at your boyfriend’s gorgeous body. He likes singing in the shower and you love listening to his beautiful voice while you dry your hair. When he got out wet and hot, his lower body is covered with a thick towel but the bulge on his crotch is still visible. And he’s big.
Johnny stood behind you watching you put lotion through the mirror with loving eyes, “What?” you asked him, turning around to put a smaller towel on top of his head and you start drying his hair. Making sure to tiptoe so you’re able to reach him. His hands travel down to your covered ass keeping you close to his body you could smell the shower gel from his skin. Playing with the hem of your panties you smirk at him because he’s too predictable but you can tell he’s stopping himself, “put it inside” giving him consent without looking at him.
Following what you said, he squeezed and kneads both of your ass cheeks until you’re finished drying his hair. Giving him a peck on the lips and walked out of the bathroom. You turned on the lamp shade and jumped right in your comfortable bed, waiting for Johnny to get dressed but he has other plans.
“Why are you just standing there and staring at me looking so sexy with that towel wrapped around your waist. Come on, get dressed already and come to bed” you whine and watch him walk on the edge of the bed looking like a lost god inside your room.
Removing his towel in front of you, his eyes never leave yours but yours left his to look at his hard cock. “It’s not fair that I’m the only one naked here” he whispered so sexily beside your ear and eventually bitting the shell of your ear. Hands helping you to remove your shirt and panties without a rush. Pushing you down on the mattress as he spread soft kisses around your neck, shoulders and lips.
“I got tested last week”
With wide eyes you pull away from him just enough to look at him clearly and check if he’s saying the truth. “And?” your heart beats so fast as you wait for his answer, hoping for some good news.
“I think I rather show you than tell you. Hmm?”
“Fuck Johnny!” you shouted at him showing your happiness tears pooling on the corner of your eye.
“Yes, that’s what were going to do all night”
You hugged him tight until he tells you he needs air, pulling him on top of you letting him put all of his weight on your body. He’s fucking heavy but you don’t care. Too happy and excited about the great news you kiss him down to the mattress and waited for yourself to relax. Putting him under your spell as you made your way on top of him, Johnny felt cheated and quick to grab your body closer to him as he switch positions with you so easily. “Uh-uh. I’m on top, you can have second round”
His hands are quick to travel around your body, making a trail of wet kisses from your lips down to your lower abdomen. Stopping yourself to moan a little to louder because it’s been too long since Johnny touched you, only he can make your whole body sensitive. “Let it out, I love hearing you and you know that”
Big hands are caressing both of your thighs as you spread your legs in front of him so he can kneel between you. Going back to kiss your lips, putting his right arm in between your bodies, “were like virgins” you both chuckle at what he said but yours turned into a long moan when you feel him play with your slit, feeling his finger spread your juices and make your pussy more wet.
Even though foreplay is not new for the both of you, deep inside you’re both nervous. Nervous because finally tonight you two will have sex and the excitement is balling up in your bodies. Kneeling in between your legs again, Johnny moved intentionally slow and took his time with you. Thinking about how he doesn’t want to fuck you like how he fucked other girls.
He lifts your right leg gently, feeling your soft skin on his hands and placing kisses on your leg and shin. “This is the first time that I get nervous for sex… I’m just full of love for you I don’t know how to start. But oh the amount of things I want to do with you, baby” it is indeed surprising to see Johnny so nervous in bed and what he said to you made you smile beneath him.
“Don’t smile like that, you don’t know what your smile does to me” he kissed your leg again softly, placing it above his shoulders and leaning down close to you until you’re chest to chest. Johnny’s head perfectly rest on your left shoulder kissing it and your neck as he pleases. He lines his cock to your entrance pushing in slowly making you feel his veiny cock stretch your cunt for the first time. You hiss from hurt of the stretch gasping sharply as your arms swings around Johnny’s. Breathing fast and sharp near his ear, raking his soft hair as you feel all of him.
Neither of you can’t believe that Johnny is inside you. He told you how you feel so warm around him, incredibly tight and wet. How he wants to go deeper inside you but he doesn’t want to hurt you. Like you, he is breathing deeply and sharply near your ear whispering those words to you and kissing you more to tell you he means it.
While Johnny was whispering you sweet and dirty words, you focus on what you’re feeling down there and wonder how did it fit inside you. He has a big cock that’s for sure. Johnny continues to push in slowly, it’s so big you let out a soft ‘ouch’ and ‘ow’ from time to time. He loves the sound of it.
“Am I hurting you?” he stopped for a second and you nod your head breathing heavily. “Good” he said with a smirk and went back to pushing in his cock. “You sure Jaehyun fucked you good all those years?” you pinched his nipples with all your strength while you take his cock, making him whine and turned on even more. At least you made him shut up about Jaehyun.
This is it. Grunts and moans surrounds the room the moment he started rolling his hips. Kissing you to let you know how he’s getting addicted by how you feel so good around him.
You let out the word, “big” with airy and breathy tone giving you more hard and slow thrusts so you will never forget this moment. Hitting you deep inside, he double his pace until your boobs bounce and your nipples brush on his chest making you moan louder. You reach for Johnny’s soft lips to shut yourself up and kiss him while taking those thrusts but pulling away eventually to let out a moan.
“Johnny- oh fuck! nipples, so sensitive touch them please” with no questions asked his free hand goes to your left nipple pinching it and gripping your boob just the way you like it. The position of your leg on top of Johnny’s shoulder is making you crazy, it hits perfectly deep on the spot where it feels so good.
You put your point finger inside Johnny’s mouth letting his tongue play with it until your satisfied, looking straight into his eyes as you removed your finger and transfer it in your mouth, “that’s hot” he groaned and bit your left nipple
Locking eyes with you as he put down your leg kissing you hungrily as you swing back your arms around his neck wrapping your leg around his waist. You can feel his hard abs against your stomach as he thrust still with that unbelievable pace, thinking about how hot what it is you’re doing with your boyfriend right now just simply puts you on edge.
“Johnny- huuuhh!” you call him out and part your lips, telling him that you’re about to cum as you shut your eyes and furrow your brows.
“I know baby, I know. Fuck you look so hot right now”
Both on edge and ready to let go, Johnny managed to pull away from you to grip your waist with both hands. Lifting your hips from the mattress unconsciously as he continues to give you quick and hard thrusts. “Fuck dont stop!” gripping the sheets as you let go and clench your pussy for as far as you can hold.
Watching you shiver beneath him and enjoy your high while he’s still catching for his sweet release is like an accomplishment for him. Shooting his cum inside you, Johnny whimpers loudly and moans your name with heavy breaths and sharp gasps.
You clear your throat and reach for him, “Kiss me Johnny.” As you devour each other’s lips again, Johnny’s thrust became slow and relaxed just perfect to remind you that he’s inside you still.
“Johnny, I can’t feel my legs”
That made him finally stop moving but still not pulling out. “Mind if I stay in for a while?”
Arms flying around him again to push him closer to you, loving how Johnny feels inside you. “I don’t mind baby, stay forever”
As always, you two finish the night with a lot of kisses. Soft, gentle, rough hungry kisses all night long until you two get tired and sleep naked, hands intertwined and happy that you two finally made love.
………………………………………….
Masterlist
I told myself I will stop making Johnny fics and give chance to other members but here I go again. Forgive me, he’s not even my ult :(( haha Anyway, thank you for reading this! This has been the longest thing I’ve ever written and I will never write a love triangle fic ever again. hahahha kidding. I got the inspiration from this photo, hahaa Jaehyun looked so handsome here like ‘boi who u textin huh’
#nct-writers#neowritingsnet#nct 127#nct smut#nct#nct jaehyun smut#nct jaehyun fluff#nct jaehyun angst#nct jaehyun cheating#nct jaehyun#nct johnny#nct johnny smut#nct johnny fluff#nct johnny angst#nct johnny fuckboy#nct fuckboy#nct aus#nct jaehyun x reader#nct johnny x reader#jung jaehyun#johnny seo
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fight night (jatp crew x reader)
readers home life hasn’t been the best and they’ve been lying to their friends about it. one night it all builds up and the reader shows up to julies, distraught. ( for this the boys are alive bc it just worked out best but other than that no changes.)
this has been sitting in my drafts so i thought i’d post it
trigger warning: family fights, anxiety, depression, past talk of eating disorders.
For a long time you use to just keep everything buried down. That was your fatal flaw. It wasn’t a trust issue, you just always had this feeling that if no one knew then everything would be fine. But your family had lately been falling apart, your parents always seemed disappointed in you, you were fighting with your siblings more and it felt it a ballon that kept on expanding. you didn’t know when everything was going to explode it just kept getting worse.
Today was the exploding point. It seemed like no matter what you did, it just wasn’t good enough. You were the black sheep in your family, they made you out to be it. They complained about how you dressed, what your room looked like, the music you played, the people you hung out with, and for what? You didn’t do anything that was textbook problem child material.
You tried your hardest in school, you never asked for much, you cleaned almost everyone’s mess at home, and after a while that became your routine. Never be seen, never be heard and never get any credit for everything you do. Meanwhile your siblings, little miss perfect and the star academic got everything you wanted. Your parents attention, their approval, and their constant reassurance.
By the time you were in high school, you were emotionally independent. A stranger to your own family pretty much. You went to an art school along with your siblings. Even as the oldest, you quickly fell into their shadows. Your sister a musical protégé on the violin, your parents paid for the best lessons, and without a doubt she’ll probably attend some ivy league. Your brother was in the advanced academics program, with yale and harvard already offering him scholarships in his sophomore year. Then there was you. You were in the art program, and while your teacher swears that all the top art schools have you on their radar. You still felt insignificant.
You worked a weekend job at the local coffee shop, latte love , it wasn’t everything but it helped pay for art supplies for you to build your portfolio. Their you met Julie Molina and Flynn Davis. Two girls who were your age, they attended the music program at your art school. You recognized them, Julie had been like the sun at the school. In the hallways always smiling and then her mom died, the sun went away hidden behind clouds. While Flynn was unapologetically herself and didn’t backdown from telling people how things were, she was fearless. They were also probably the first two people who knew your siblings and were able to separate you from them.
Then later on in the year the three of you met Luke, Alex and Reggie. Latte Love was hosting its monthly open mic night. It was almost a year after Julie’s mom died, so in an attempt to coax her back into music, Flynn brought her around. You offered free hot chocolate on the house as a bribe if she wanted to come. After an hour of mainly middle schoolers trying to face stage fright, soccer parents who desperately tried to hold onto their high school garage band phase and any other mediocre act who gave it their all in effort. Sunset Curve preformed.
That night honestly sent all six of your lives’ into a full spiral but in the best way. A month after you had met sunset curve, they formed a band with Julie and became, Julie and the Phantoms. Flynn becoming the band manager and you being the artist for ticket designs, posters and anything else. It helped distract you from everything going on in your life and with your friends you didn’t feel left out or the black sheep. You were you and they loved you for all of it.
But you could only be happy for so long. Your family always managed to make you feel horrible about yourself, this week had felt like the worst its ever been. Your sister being recruited for a summer symphony in Australia, your brother would be off at a stem camp and your summer plans were just to work, make art and hang with your friends. Your family wasted no time in telling you that you were wasting your time, or that it was just some silly childish thing. They didn’t understand how big Julie and the Phantoms were becoming. The latest gig being opening for panic at the disco at the Orpheum.
You couldn’t take it anymore, which is how you ended up walking to Julie’s house right in the beginning of a thunderstorm. When you finally made it to Julie’s front stoop you were drenched head to toe. Julie being the one to pull you in the front door. In her oversized smiley face sweatshirt and baggy sweats. The movie night dress code.
“Did you walk here?” She exclaims looking at the outdoor storm and turning back to her best friend. Your eyes red from crying and cheeks raw from wiping your tears rapidly. She’d been expecting you for weekly movie night, especially since her dad and brother had been away for a baseball game for the weekend. Just not in this state.
“More like swam.” You replied with a dry laugh. Trying to desperately hold yourself together. Knowing your friends were all in the living room, you didn’t want to burden them with your breakdown.
“Hey was that the chinese food! Y/n? Whats wrong bean?” Flynn stated her mood changing halfway through the sentence noticing the state of their best friend. Who looked like she’d just had the world’s worst day. You smiled fondly at the nice name she’d given you, which was a coffee pun.
“Family shit. Like always.” You said looking down at the floor and the puddle that you were slowly dripping onto the Molina residence’s welcome mat. Both girls smiled sympathetically, they had their fair share of stories of how bad things could get at the L/n household.
“Come on! It’s movie night, you’re getting into cozy clothes and having junk food with your friends.” Julie said taking your hand and leading you upstairs to her room. Julie handed you spare clothes due to you being completely soaked. Then a towel to dry yourself off.
“Here, once you’re ready to come downstairs, we can put your stuff into the dryer.” Julie said smiling at her friend before leaving to give her privacy. Taking the towel she gave you and trying to dry your hair. Then changing into the cozy clothes she gave you. Your phone blowing up from texts from your family. Your parents wanting to know where you were. Not caring how hurt you were. Your siblings saying half assed apologies they didn’t mean. They’d done this before and they’d do it again.
Ignoring the messages, you walked back downstairs. The comforting smell of chinese food wafting at you. Julie, Alex and Flynn stood at the table. Meanwhile Luke and Reggie were were at the local 7/11 getting slushies.
“Did anyone order a hot mess?” You said jokingly getting their attention. Alex standing up and instantly hugging you as if he’d never see you again. Hugging him back. Alex’s hugs always felt as if it was a cloud.
The Molina residence house phone then rang, the caller id labeling your house. “We can just let it go to message.” Julie said turning back from the phone to you. You shook your head, “I’m so over this bullshit.” Walking over to the phone you picked it up.
“Hello ever so loving parental unit.” You said with sarcasm dripping off every word. “Pop off!” Flynn said as she bit into a dumpling. You bit back a smile. “Where are you? You can’t run out because you’re upset.” You heard your mom say. You rolled your eye.
“Where i am every friday night. I told you in advance i had plans so when you take your attention span off miss perfect and genius boy remember you have a third fucking child. Goodnight!” You said promptly and then hung up placing the phone back on back on its home base. “Beyoncé would approve.” Flynn said clapping for dramatic effect.
“How much trouble are you going to be in for that?” Alex said passing your usual that Julie knew to order for you, you shrugged. “Bold of you to assume they’ll remember to ground me.”
“Wow what a rag tag group of mommy and daddy issues we are.” Reggie announced as he placed the tray of slushies down on the counter. “Excuse you!” Julie exclaimed as she took a slip of her blueberry slushie. “She’s dead, that’s an issue.” Flynn said as she grabbed her green apple one. You choked on your food for a second, “Out of pocket!”
“She’s right babe.” Luke said hugging her from behind. “You have mommy issues too.” Julie said turning around slightly. “Only the hottest people have both mommy and daddy issues!” Alex exclaimed holding a hand of for you and Reggie to high five.
“My back hurts from having a healthy parental relationship and carrying that standard.” Flynn said cracking open her fortune cookie. You laughed looking around at your dysfunctional friend group.
“We are all going to hell for these jokes alone.” You said taking a sip of your slushie. Reggie scoffed, “We’re just warming up.”
#julie and the phantoms#julie and the phantoms imagine#reggie peters#reggie peters imagine#luke patterson imagine#luke patterson#julie molina#julie molina imagine#flynn jatp#flynn nolastname#alex mercer#alex mercer imagine
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driver’s license
cause you said forever, now I drive alone passed your street
[au where suna is a doctor specialized in memory removal and his last patient of the day is his ex]
pairing: suna rintarou + fem!reader
genre: pain, angst, doctor!suna + patient!reader
tags//warning: medical procedure of mind erasing, slight suicide ideation, alcohol abuse
note: the obligatory trio of mine: not well edited, lowercase intended, english isnt my first language im sorry if i murder it. the songs made me brawled i had to write something about it and i just so happened to finish haikyuu
“it’s odd,” he looked up from the computer screen, osamu approached him pointing to the screen, the last name listed in the appointment schedule under dr suna rintarou. please don’t say it please don’t say anything, he begged silently in his head. “she kinda has her name. haven’t heard her name in ages,” osamu shrugged, grabbing his next patient’s files, “want to get lunch later?” the doctor popped in another stick of gum, leaving before suna could even said a word.
funny that osamu said that. that is his girlfriend. he moved the cursor and clicked at the name. the birthplace, the date, her eye colour, the address and her number; it matches everything he ever memorized of her. except they are no longer together. it has been a month since their breakup.
she’s an architect. not by choice but she likes art. she’s talented and had once held an art show during school’s open day where they met. she didn’t draw him until they started dating, but she had known some of his close friends who was the subject of her drawings. her parents disproved of her ambitious and to compromise, she agreed to take architectural instead. she stopped drawing completely and suna was the only person in japan that has the largest collection of her paintings stuffed in boxes and behind shelves.
suna rintarou has been a doctor in inarizaki institute for 5 years now. inarizaki institute was different from others. it was the only medical institution that had successfully developed a procedure to remove unwanted memories. he’s one of the qualified doctors for said procedure. he had done the procedure multiple times now, even on his former high school friends and families but never his own girlfriend.
is it him she’s removing from her memories?
he didn’t remember how they broke up. maybe it’s because he was too busy. maybe it’s because she had fallen out of love with him. maybe they just couldn’t stand being in each other’s spaces, but it happened so quickly. she moved out from their apartment, returned when he left to clear out her stuff and he just threw himself back to work.
he did remember how they met. she was the miya brothers’ neighbor. one night when he came to visit them during semester break years ago, they were in their parents’ car with a girl. suna felt like he had recognized but couldn’t think of where or when. “oi, suna,” the window rolled down and asamu called him over, “come in!” despite being weirded out, he entered the back door of the car. “we are teaching our friend how to drive; can you believe it? she’s in our university and can’t drive to save a life.”
“shut the fuck up, atsumu or i’ll run you over,” she muttered angrily as she moved the driving gear.
suna saw the stick going down to reverse instead down further and he immediately reached for her hand. the girl startled at the stranger’s sudden touch. “what the fuck are you d-doing?” she choked up.
“you’re going to reverse into the wall,” he muttered bluntly, pouting his mouth to the gear. grabbing the stick through her hand, he pulled the gear into drive before letting her hand go. the light from the post shined in and he could see red flush on her face as she nodded, “oh okay, yeah d,” she muttered to herself. she started driving. she wasn’t exactly bad; she just needed a lot of practice.
so he came over every day of his semester break and accompanied them as she practiced her driving.
“i can drive you home?” she offered on the last night of his break before he returned to school.
“you don’t have too.”
“i insisted,” to which suna agreed and she glanced back at the miya brothers, “get the fuck out.” despite their disgruntlement and the it’s my mum’s car argument, she managed to kick them out. it was just two of them together. “so, i know we went to same high school and university. how come we have never crossed path before?” she questioned as she took her first turn. she memorized the roads to his home. suna shrugged as he fidgeted with the corner of the jacket’s zipper, “i played volleyball in high school.”
she chuckled, “i’ve never watched any sport matches in high school, sorry. anyway, i’m a last year architectural student by the way. are you taking the same course as osamu?” she glanced at him with a smile. his heart skipped a beat. “y-yeah. i’m in my 5th year of medical.”
“why not volleyball player?”
“i got bored.”
she let a soft exhale and shrugged, “fair enough. i took architectural to please my mother so i’m in no position to give any advice.” she slowed down in front of his house before pulling into a full stop. she pulled into parking and pulled the hand brake. she smiled and fist pumped herself, “did you see that? perfect stop!” suna didn’t expect what was going to happen next. he watched out of control as his arm reached out for her face and pulling her close. what he remembered being in control was asking her boldly whether he could kiss her.
her eyes sparkled and she smiled so widely, “yes.”
so, he did.
she moved into his apartment at the end of his graduation. she didn’t get any job for the first few months while he entered inarizaki institute as medical officer. she took commissions online and waited tables while going to a couple of interviews. he saw a decline in her motivation. when suna returned one night, he found her behind the sofa, drunk out of her mind. what spooked him wasn’t the bottles of whiskey on the floor but the stainless-steel paint scrapper she stabbed the canvas with. she could’ve hurt herself. but, putting her into therapy and pulling strings with some of her friends, she recovered, and he got her an interview. suna watched as she dreadfully shoved her portfolios and files into her bag.
“you’ll be alright,” he reassured, bringing her a cup of coffee. she sighed and pushed her bangs back, “i don’t know, rin. i just don’t feel like getting another rejection after another and then i’ll just spiral into a-” he stopped her rambling with a kiss. he tasted like coffee; she tasted like their toothpaste. every time she tried to pull away, he pulled her back into the kiss and she could feel him laughing against her lips. “this is going to turn into something else,” she whispered between the kiss and he nodded. he was half aroused. she drank the coffee and kissed him one last time. he felt her fingers slipped from his grip. she stood by the door and waved back.
“see you?” she beamed.
“always.”
suna snapped out of his own memory when an alarm blared out. he looked up past the nurses’ counter and saw a patient being pushed out of room B by a couple of nurses. he knew what goes on in that room; he helped in perfecting the procedure. osamu followed soon. he tugged the blue gloves off and shoved them into the yellow bin. “you would not believe who I met in the waiting room?” by the look of his face, osamu already got the feeling that suna already knew. osamu flipped his file and pulled out a pen. he signed the bottom of the pages and dumping it in the completed pile. “did she tell you?” suna asked.
“about?” the other doctor asked.
“the memories she’s erasing. did she tell you?”
osamu shook his head and pocketed his hand in the white coat. “she asked about you. whether you’re around. i said yeah, he’s on call and she just smiled.” suna stood up and grabbed the file. he felt conflicted. osamu stopped the man before he could enter the room. “look man, I’m sorry about whatever happen between you guys and I’m in no position to judge at all.”
suna shrugged and smiled, “it’s fine. we were just ruining each other.” the other man nodded understandingly before excusing himself. suna wanted to move but his feet felt heavy. he was glued down. room B was just a few feet away, but he couldn’t move. this is it. the end of them.
he forced himself into the room. standing in front of the panels and monitor, separating him and her was a one-way mirror. she sat on the seat, talking to the nurses in charge. his heart hurts. she had bangs now framing her face. she’s slight thinner and no longer wore the charm bracelet he gave during their first anniversary. the nurse placed a heart-beat monitor on her thumb and attached a couple more of sensors to her brain, forehead, and neck. his monitor lightened up and spitted out the information. this is it. “doctor, she’s requesting of removal of memory from 2009 up to last month,” the nurse’s words went in his ears and out. it’s of him.
all his own memories flashed through his mind.
the memories of every kisses, hugs, the late nights and the earliest of days, the coffees, the spilled paints. memories of every tear he ever wiped and for ever meals she had ever cooked. memories of all the paints of him that she had gifted to him and every night she drove down his streets. for every missed calls and unread texts. the way she touched him and the way she made him felt. he felt suffocated.
how could he ever love someone else?
“everything is accordingly. you may press the start, doctor.”
he looked at the flashing button and back to her. she was looking right at him. she might not see him, but she is looking straight at him and she looked so beautiful. a small smile appeared on her lips as her fingers fidgeted nervously. he felt tears prickling his eyes. his fingers brushed against the button and he slowly pressed it.
it took them 7 years to build this much of memories together and it took him 3 minutes to erase it clean from her mind.
she was drowsy and she had tears running down her face. the nurses rushed in after the red light disappeared and green light beamed. the alarm rang. another memory successfully. “I’m okay, I’m okay.” he heard her from the opened door. shutting off the machine, he immediately rushed out for the door, feared that he might bumped into her and lost it. he hid his shaking hands in his pocket and gritted his teeth.
“doctor?”
he stopped. the world stopped spinning and he felt lightheaded. the way she called for him didn’t change, the tone and the pronunciation were the same. it was always melodious yet painful. he turned around to see her being wheelchaired out of the room by the nurse. her eyes were slightly red, and her nose were puffy. the nurse passed her a cup of water. she smiled politely, thanking her and took the cup in her hand. she took a sip, coughing at the coldness of the water down her dried throat. it’s the side effect of the procedure.
“have we met before?” she asked, innocently.
suna shook his head and smiled weakly, “no, we haven’t.” he turned to the nurse and nodded. before the nurse could ushered her away, she called him out again.
with a smile on her face, she waved goodbye, “see you, doctor?”
“always.”
#haikyu x reader#haikyuu!#suna rintarou#suna rintaro x you#suna rintaro x y/n#suna rintaro drabbles#osamu miya#miya osamu#inarizaki#haikyuu x reader#suna x reader#finALLY this song is out of my head usghshshbh#hq#suna hq#when im bored i write#tw suicide ideation#tw alcohol abuse#tw alcohol mention#writing: hq#writing: fics
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Hello Stranger
[14K Words/1Hr. Read - Teacher!Bang Chan x Admin!Female Reader - Fake Relationships, Guest Appearances, Fluff, Smut, Slow Burn, New Teachers, Vanilla, Office Sex, Allusions To Troubling Subjects]
Masterlist | Feedback
You should’ve expected a phone call when you read the email. At least then you would be somewhat prepared for the verbal lashing you were currently receiving from one of your greatest teachers.
“I’m sorry, but — wait, you know what? No I’m not, I’m not sorry — but I am not staying here with this dumpster fire waiting to happen! He’s wrecking the department — Johnny, let me talk — and I didn’t even want him here to begin with. Congratulations, ma’am, you torpedoed my program I worked so hard to build.”
Doyoung paused, waiting for you to call his bluff, to appeal to his good side as usual. He was right. He’d done so much for his school — for the district, really, and this was getting out of hand. Johnny could be heard behind him, the poor principal having apparently had his desk phone wrestled away from him to begin with.
“Mr. Kim,” you spoke into the phone, mustering all the confidence you had in you, “what do you want me to do? I mean it. Tell me what you want.”
“He goes or I go,” Doyoung dramatically laid out into your ear. Johnny could be heard trying to console the raving teacher before Doyoung apparently ducked him every few seconds. “I’m losing my mind. I have 150 students becoming fucking hypnotized and they’re influencing their peers like the plague.”
“Besides losing either of you,” you carefully negotiated, “what do you want me to do? I value your input; I always have. Dig into the meat with me here, please.”
“I will not teach beside some noble renegade who wears hoodies to class and asks his students to call him by his first name. I won’t teach in the same building, nor in the same school. This is dangerous, and you know it is. For all the money you’re throwing at PR this year you could be putting it in your students.”
You hated that Doyoung was right. This was not a great start to the year. A sigh escaped that you had not meant for, and Doyoung audibly steeled himself on the other end of the receiver. He was waiting now.
“I’m coming down there,” you announced. Apparently Johnny heard you, a god fucking dammit being heard behind Doyoung’s shoulder. Doyoung, however, was sated.
“Fine,” he replied, but he didn’t sound fine. He sounded like he was surprised he got anywhere. “I’m sorry I got so upset.”
And like that, Doyoung hung up. You slumped down in your chair, having been pacing your otherwise pristine office for the past 15 minutes which had felt more like 15 hours. You were fussily rearranging your desk, trying to calm yourself back down when your assistant finally felt it was safe enough to poke her head into your office.
“Ma’am—” Yeji greeted before you held up a hand to stop her. You pinched the bridge of your nose in exasperation.
“How many more calls this week?”
“Only four,” she replied. A relieved sigh softened your tense shoulders as she set the personnel file you requested on your desk.
You felt so old now, run ragged by all the mayhem, but it wasn’t so long ago that you were young yourself. Even then, you still were according to most standards. You were the youngest assistant superintendent to ever serve the district, a set of magnet schools within the city comprised of one private Montessori primary school, one public STEM-focused junior high, and one private-public hybrid high school of the arts. You pined for the ultimate position, but that chair was long occupied by Mr. Simmons, a token favorite of the school board. He called you dear and was always acting like some big man pitying a little girl. However, this didn’t mean you hadn’t tried like hell to make an impression.
Your first three years had been a terrific uphill trajectory. In year one, you brought on Doyoung to replace the retiring choir teacher and head of the music department at the high school. To date, he’d brought in more accolades than his predecessor did in twice the time. For your second year, you collaborated with your junior high on an agricultural enrichment program that offset food costs district wide to the point you could improve offerings in all three cafeterias. This year, you re-established the district PTA. Doyoung’s rabid Booster Club and the parents of the junior high’s robotics team made up the first meeting, and more and more parents had joined since.
So it only seemed fair that this year was your first true hurdle. It had been such an innocent decision: you took a proposed program from the junior high and adapted it for your high school students. A music production and distribution program was a clean, sleek idea that was sure to impress the PTA and enrich the lives of your students in their already affluent music department and work as a dual credit with the business side of the class. What you hadn’t betted on, however, was what exactly a young teacher could get into in a high school setting.
Chris Bang wasn’t naive — you were sure of it, looking at his portfolio. He’d cut his teeth independently producing from a young age and gathering a loyal following online. This was a concept you understood well enough, but had a time and a half explaining to anyone older than you, it seemed. Anyone older than you, but also especially Doyoung, who was very fiercely proud of his hard work to get his double Masters in Choral Conducting and Music Theory at 21 and didn’t have the patience for homegrown prodigies. You couldn’t blame Doyoung, really, even with his dramatics. His competition choir was a force to be reckoned with — surprisingly disciplined, endlessly talented, and ravenously competitive — and now two of his students were wrapped up in all this, too, and that was just the extent you were aware of.
You tapped out an IM to Yeji from your desktop, asking her to come back into your office, and she dutifully popped in a few seconds later. She pulled up a chair in front of your desk as you rested your head in your hands for a moment. “Tell me, Yeji,” you sighed, “what’s your read on this?”
“Well, ma’am,” she mulled it over, “it’s not great. It’s awful, really. But it’s hard to tell by now what’s real, what’s a cry for attention, or what feels real but is actually just the zeitgeist. You know how this is, what it can turn into.”
You did. You’d remembered your own whirlwind feelings at a similar age, even just out of high school. Strangers and dissenters had a hard time believing it, but before you had assumed the role of meticulously poised and proper, you were frustratingly belligerent and stubborn like many of your peers when you were younger. It was easy to recall how real, how present every moment was at the time, but you didn’t even remember the whole story now. In fact, you hadn’t thought of that story in ages, but you were suddenly reminded of the smell of pine trees and sugar, the cool electricity of being out past midnight. It was quite possibly the most excited you’d ever felt, but now you couldn’t remember the fine details, the corners sanded down to curves over time. To your students, these letters were the most exciting and dramatic thing to ever happen to them, and if they would remember the details later on would depend on how you handled the situation.
The first letter surfaced just a week before, and online of all places. A full declaration of this girl’s undying love for Chris and all of the very, very, very inappropriate things she wanted to do with him, found in an envelope on the keyboard outside his office and posted online before he could ever see it. The next letter was eventually found two days later, apparently picked up from where it had missed the trash can: a 17 year old boy, feeling emboldened enough to finally profess who he was — gay, madly in love with Chris, and willing to risk it all. A third was stolen from a girl’s backpack from some bullies and she had been a wreck, so sure that Chris had picked one of the other two and she’d missed her chance. That girl hadn’t returned to school yet. Who knew what else was going on in the hallways, in the cafeteria and bathrooms, in the parking lot after school?
Four more parents contacted your office, according to Yeji. Four more letters. And now Doyoung was threatening to quit, for added reasons you hadn’t even been aware of. You flipped through Chris’ personnel file, hoping not to find any red flags, but hopefully find any reason this spiraled out of control, anything other than tumultuous teenage life wreaking havoc on your students.
Your sigh renewed in spades as you glanced at your assistant again. “Who do you remember most from high school?”
Yeji’s eyes were cast downward as she thought about it. “Other than my friends? Probably the student teacher in my auto class,” she blissfully reminisced. “The teacher would sleep half the time and the student teacher would just teach us whatever we wanted to know and what we needed to know for tests. I remember I had the biggest crush because of that.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Yeji gave an apologetic smile. “What about you?”
Her question knocked you off your feet for a moment. For some reason, you hadn’t been expecting it, but you immediately had an answer. “Aside from friends? Weirdly enough,” you began, “someone I didn’t meet until graduation.”
As sickly sentimental as the thought of it was, it was true. You didn’t even remember that boy’s name anymore, but you’d met exactly three times before you left for college. He had been hanging out by the bonfire on the beach at a grad party no one had expected to get so crazy. You couldn’t remember your conversation, but you could remember his bleached hair tucked under a beanie catching your eye as he sat by himself, his friends apparently wreaking havoc on their own somewhere. His lip ring was crooked, and in a fit of beer-buzzed confidence you’d fixed it for him while you talked about the phony gravitas of graduation. You’d almost kissed him, too, connecting over things that seemed way more kismet than they probably were when your friends finally made you walk home with them.
You gathered up the rest of your patience and courage as you bid Yeji goodbye until your return and headed out to your car in the lot, making the tedious journey to the high school. The handsomely vintage architecture was charmingly modern inside the gates and within its walls, but not overly so. However, this also meant the school was a hike and a maze to navigate through to find the music department. You were distracted, though, missing a turn here or there and having to turn back a couple times now that you were suddenly remembering your clandestine romance from years ago. What was his name? It wasn’t even that long ago. Had so much really happened since then? You wracked your brain. He had a reasonably fresh and nice scratcher tattoo on his bicep, you remembered, but you couldn’t remember what it was for some reason, just like his name. He had to have said it in one of these memory bites.
The second time you’d met, he’d been handing out flyers on the boardwalk for his own show at a rave in a warehouse on the other side of town, out where the beach met the woods. He’d seen you before you’d seen him, and he had popped up with a greeting of Hello, stranger. He had made you promise to be there, which is where you met the third and final time later that night. He greeted you again the same way. Hello, stranger. You’d thought it was cute then, and still did, which must be why you still remembered that detail, at least. He liked your shoes, your worn work boots you’d picked up at a thrift store and refused to get rid of despite all the times your parents asked.
Those warehouse shows were always nuts, all sorts of vendors arriving who were willing to shack up with any event that passed through. He had bought you cotton candy from one of these vendors when you met him after his set and you chatted as you walked along the tree line, talking about his dreams of becoming rich and famous on his own terms. He kissed you, once, and you tasted his lip ring and spun sugar for weeks. You found yourself wondering now if he ever did become rich and famous.
Doyoung gave you a passing glance in the hall as you stalked towards Chris’s classroom: he looked impatient but thrilled and, sure enough, well dressed in his usual suit and tie. You wondered if this new staff member was exactly what Doyoung was fear mongering. Maybe it was simply a difference in values. This was Chris’ first year teaching professionally, you remembered, and now you felt miserably guilty. What a horrible way to start a career. You hadn’t even visited your new teacher since he began, but just the door outside his room was a mess. Doyoung’s fretting made more sense now. Even though you’d only gotten four phone calls, Chris’s classroom door was plastered in letters.
The door creaked and fluttered as you opened it and peeked your head inside. The room was devoid of any human presence. For a space that needed to serve multiple purposes, it was sparsely filled except for classroom materials and equipment. Regular desks and chairs filled the floor as opposed to risers or music stands like in the other department classrooms, but there was still a soundproof practice room in the back of the room, and only the recording equipment stored around the room gave any hint to the classroom’s purpose. To deal with the mess after the third letter, a sub was leading Chris’s classes in the library, but you at least expected to find him here himself, or at least some posters or framed photos. You peeked inside the small office at the head of the classroom, finding it just as empty as well, but with some more personality. A few extra milk crates of visibly nicer vinyl records for sampling and listening were stacked beside the desk along with a nicer record player than what was by his desk out in the classroom. Some books sat on a shelf with a modest cactus in the corner, and finally some photos: Chris shaking hands and smiling with tons of industry players and friends, and occasionally appearing in one of those hoodies Doyoung had been warning of. He did own suits, apparently. Multiple. And he looked good in them.
A polite cough surprised you at the door of the office.
You whirled around, the sun outside silhouetting Chris as he stared at you in his dimly lit office. “My office hours are cancelled this week. May I help you?”
It was your turn to cough, clearing your throat. He was certainly young. He was certainly handsome, his grimace pronouncing the charming dimples in his cheeks. He certainly didn’t dress like a teacher. Chris stood in the doorway of his own office, looking at you curiously in his hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. He even had a backpack hung on his shoulder and a bag of greasy fast food in his hands. He suddenly looked down at it, embarrassed.
“I, er, wore out my welcome in the teacher’s lounge, it seems,” he sighed out a sullen laugh. “And I needed some fresh air.”
“Mr. Bang, I—“
“Call me Chris,” he insisted with a tired grin. Your heart shamefully thumped at how friendly and cute he was. It was easier to pretend you didn’t hear him. He stepped around you and dropped down into his desk chair. He silently gestured at his food, appearing to ask if you were alright if he ate while you talked. You nodded. He dug into the bag and cheekily offered you a fry. You coolly shook your head.
“I’m sorry we have to meet like this, but as assistant superintendent—“
Chris sputtered, standing up from his chair as he choked down the fry he’d just put in his mouth. “Ma’am,” he gasped finally, “I didn’t—“
“I know,” you nodded again. You waved up a hand in understanding. “Please, sit back down. I wanted to come by and see how you’re doing, considering the current state of affairs.”
Chris stayed standing, uneasy and fidgeting. “Alright, what do you want? Is this it? Please don’t suggest I need an attorney, I don’t think I can handle it.”
“What?” You asked, surprised.
“I’m sorry for snapping,” Chris lamented, “but I’ve gotten dozens of emails and messages through the school portal from parents and students asking me if I did anything, and it’s doing my head in.”
“They’re what?!” You hadn’t even considered anyone actually thought the teacher was guilty of anything. He nodded gravely.
“Read the letters outside!” His demand came out brokenly as he pointed behind you. “They’re begging me and taunting me to do all sorts of shit. Confess, quit, fuck them — all sorts of awful trash that I never even imagined. I just wanted to teach. I don’t know why the hell this is happening to me.”
You had no idea about any harassment. This looked bad. It looked bad to your students, their parents, the staff — everyone. You pulled out your phone from your purse and brought up the PR rep’s number, now on your speed dial. “You didn’t do anything.”
“Of course I didn’t—“ he sputtered before you cut him off.
“I wasn’t asking, Mr. Bang. You didn’t do anything and I believe you. A good superintendent would support good staff. Your first few months brought nothing but praise past my office.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Chris quietly said. He finally sat down as you dialed the rep. She would be by shortly. You found another chair hiding under a pile of books and cds and moved them so you could sit. Chris was looking at you oddly now as you hung up, sitting closer than you’d normally like in the small office. You shifted uncomfortably. Chris offered you a fry again before you stiffly refused once more. He shrugged and began inhaling his food in earnest.
“Hungry?” You asked sarcastically, instantly regretting it. There was no sense in kicking him while he was down.
“Emotional eater,” he clarified around a mouthful, equally sarcastic in your resumed awkward silence. You considered the young teacher in front of you. If you recalled the personnel file, he wasn’t just a brand new teacher, he was new to the area as well. A rumor apparently spread among the students and even some of your staff that he had been running away from something, but you never paid that any attention until you were actually in the same room with him. He caught you zoning out in his direction, an eyebrow raised as he paused on his mouthful of food, and you sheepishly pulled out your phone and checked your agenda until your rep finally found you hiding out together in the tiny office.
Ryujin had become your go-to girl since the school year started but even more so over the past week. Public relations for a school district should never have to become very high-maintenance work, but Ryujin was quickly proving herself over-qualified for the job. She stood in the doorway, tall and cool in her confidence despite her short stature as she looked over the situation.
��Stand up,” she simply directed Chris.
He gave you a quick glance, not moving until you nodded. Chris set his food down and stood, hands in his hoodie pockets as Ryujin circled him. He warily shied away from her prodding as she pinched and pulled at his clothes, looking at tags and labels. She fiddled with the cute studs in his ears, tugged on the strings of his hoodie to draw him more to her level, and ruffled his dark, fluffy hair to look for showing roots or product. Ryujin looked at you now. “This isn’t so bad,” she told you decidedly.
Chris was confused, left about ten miles behind the conversation. “Why—“
“What do we do?” You asked. Chris looked wildly between both of you as you decided his fate without him. “We’re dealing with harassment now.”
“Of course we are,” Ryujin nodded thoughtfully, “I mean, look at him.”
“Hey!” Chris rightfully looked offended, even as you held up a calming hand to settle him down. Ryujin impatiently waited for you to let her continue.
“He doesn’t look like a teacher, he doesn’t act like a teacher, he’s under 30, and— I’m sorry— he’s cute. He was bound to get eaten alive when his students are only a few years younger than him and he has no experience.”
“So,” you reiterated, “what do we do?”
“He can go back to teaching,” Ryujin ruled, “but he has to look and act the part. No more first-name basis, no more street clothes.”
“This is so ridiculous!” Chris laughed in disbelief.
Both you and Ryujin glared at him now before she continued. “He’ll have to make a statement first. I’ll write it, of course. He can speak at the next PTA meeting. But —“ she turned to face him for once, “you shouldn’t be alone. Do you have a spouse? A partner? Some boyfriend or girlfriend?”
Now you shared Chris’ confused look. “Why does that matter?”
Ryujin folded her arms. “I don’t mince words. Sympathy, mostly. For anyone worrying, he’ll clearly appear to have support. For anyone who is doubting him, he clearly appears to have a loyal and loving presence in his life that can attest to Mr. Bang never having any nefarious predilection for his students and never intending to inspire any regrettable actions. It’s ultimately a similar reason to why I suggested you should wear a wedding ring.”
Your face heated up once again at being outed in front of your staff member. Ryujin had suggested a fake wedding ring ages ago when you first hired her. The moment you were appointed, parents instantly began doubting you. Even Superintendent Simmons, a parent himself, questioned you at your third interview. How could you — a young woman with no spouse and no children of your own — ever deign to understand what it’s like to raise and nurture one? The sheer stubbornness that you felt in response to that sentiment made you refuse such a placating notion as a fake wedding ring. Chris seemed to notice your embarrassment before he piped up himself, almost seeming to want to change the subject back for your sake.
“No,” Chris said simply, “I’m single and fine with it.”
“Look,” Ryujin rolled her eyes, “that is fine. Find a fake, then. It just needs to look real. It’s not fair, but these parents will assume you’re a better person if you’re not single in this situation. They need to see that you’re a loving and committed professional who just wants to teach and nurture young minds. The next PTA meeting is this Thursday night. Today is Tuesday, so you have a little time, but not much. Consider it, and I’ll have an optional line in your statement for whatever you decide. Do you have a suit?”
“For funerals and weddings,” Chris grumbled.
“A sweater is fine then,” Ryujin shrugged. She put a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “This is going to be fine. Let me know if you need anything.”
“You’re leaving?” You realized with thorough embarrassment that you sounded distressed.
“Unfortunately, yes,” she sighed, “the Superintendent wants a meeting about his son or something. You will be fine. Keep me updated.”
Ryujin ghosted out the door as fast as she’d come, and Chris reeled. “The nerve! I can’t believe her, can you?”
“Yes,” you nodded seriously, “I can. She’s right.”
“Oh, come on!” Chris blustered. You stood back up now, gathering your bag in the crook of your arm and straightening the carefully pressed collar of your suit jacket.
“I don’t want to see you have to end your career so soon, Mr. Bang,” you sympathized as you pulled out a business card from your purse and handed it to him. “Again, I’ve only heard good things about you until all this. Call me if you need anything. You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”
Things settled for one day. And then Thursday morning happened. Yeji was pale as you entered the office in the morning.
“John called from his cell.”
You checked your watch. First period was just starting at the high school.
God dammit.
You jogged into your office, grabbed the phone, and dialed him back. Johnny was out of breath. “I have a situation,” he panted into the phone. You could hear shouting behind him. Specifically, you could hear Doyoung shouting behind him. God dammit.
The tires on your car screeched as you peeled out of the parking lot of the admin building, tearing across town and barely breathing until you passed through Johnny’s office on your way into the building. He was icing his cheek with a cold pack from the nurse, his tie loose and slack around his neck and his suit jacket haphazardly slung over the back of his chair. Before you could say anything, he just shook his head with a disappointed laugh before returning to work at his computer. You walked quickly through the hallway, students watching you from their first period classrooms until you reached the music department. Taeil, the band teacher, closed Doyoung’s door behind him as he saw you in the hall.
“Ma’am,” the teacher greeted, thoroughly exhausted, “I wouldn’t go in there. We already called a sub for the rest of the day and I took Doyoung’s kids to the library for independent study.”
“Thank you, Mr. Moon,” you thanked him graciously, “do you have any idea what happened?” Taeil shrugged helplessly. His tie was crooked as well, his rolled sleeves uneven. You looked over at Chris’ room, open to the hall. Letters had shuffled off the door and onto the hallway floor. “Take care of Doyoung,” you instructed Taeil, “make sure he’s okay and that he gets home alright.”
Taeil nodded and let himself back into Doyoung’s classroom as you carefully approached Chris’. The room was dark, books and papers strewn across the floor. You cautiously switched on the light, only to find the teacher slumped in his chair at the head of the room, icing his own face with a metal water bottle. He silently glanced at you and sighed as you rushed over to check on him. You set your purse on his desk and gingerly pulled the water bottle away, sharing Chris’ sigh as you saw the bruise on his cheek. It felt a bit gross to still find him so frustratingly handsome in this moment.
“What happened?” You softly asked him. Chris sank into the chair and gave a dejected shrug, helpless to recollect. And he didn’t get much of a chance to even try, as a commotion erupted in the empty hallway. Doyoung stood fuming in the doorway with Taeil futilely attempting to pull him away.
“So you are here,” Doyoung grimaced at you before he shot a glare at Taeil, “why are you lying for her? Everyone is treating me like I’m insane and I’ve had it.” He stormed over, only stopped as you turned to press a confrontational hand to his chest. Doyoung had quite the busted lip.
“Mr. Kim, I know tensions are high—” you began staunchly before Doyoung steamrolled you.
“Do you?! Do you even know what happened?” He leaned to the side, staring daggers into Chris. “Tell her, you sorry excuse of a—“
“I’m telling you, Kim, just like I have been telling you,” Chris glowered, “I have no fucking clue what you’re talking about! You’re the one who came in here looking to start a fight.”
“You’re a goddamn liar!” Doyoung shouted. You put your hands on his shoulders, making him look at you.
“Tell me, then, Mr. Kim.”
Doyoung shiftily looked back and forth between the two of you. “Tell you what, ma’am?” he grumbled. “Tell you that I had the joy of overhearing one of my brightest students talking with her friends during zero period, bragging about fucking in his practice room? Tell you that she’s just a freshman? Tell you that I caught her and her friends giggling as she wrote her own fucking letter?”
Doyoung pulled a crumpled piece of notebook paper out of his suit jacket and shoved it into your hands. You looked back at Chris, his shaking eyes horrified as he was apparently hearing this all for the first time.
“I admit, I took matters into my own hands. I flew off the handle. Why, though, would I come to you with all this first, ma’am?” Doyoung pleaded. You recognized the helpless heartache in his eyes, hating how much he was losing his students. “You wouldn’t come to me first if I asked for your help. You’d go straight to him.”
You glanced down at the notebook paper in your hands, catching glimpses of curly, naive confessions, and you looked back at Chris again. He didn’t look guilty. You didn’t want him to be. You wanted this all resolved, as cleanly as possible before you possibly wrecked the year before winter break. You thought fast.
“I did go to him first, Mr. Kim,” you conceded, quiet yet confident, “and I apologize if my actions come across as selfish, but this ordeal has caused quite the strain on mine and Chris’ relationship, even more so since it’s still fairly new.”
Doyoung backed up, aghast as his eyes flicked between the two of you again. His normally soft gaze was pure hellfire. “You’re kidding me,” he shook his head in disbelief. He had no interest in waiting for a confirmation before he turned to storm off, herding Taeil along with him.
Chris was staring at you when you turned back to face him, shocked as he was at your sudden plan. “Why the hell did you do that?”
You pulled out your phone to dial Ryujin, but before you actually sent the call through, you bored your eyes into Chris, who was still wincing past the bruise on his face. “You still didn’t do anything?”
“Never,” he adamantly shook his head.
“Good,” you nodded. “We will need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. My assistant will call you with details.” You plucked your purse up from his desk and shouldered it. Chris watched, still stunned as you made for the door. His continued stare made you pause, a hand on the door frame as you turned back to face him. “You’re innocent,” you explained, “but if you quit you’ll be proving everyone who’s doubting you right. It seems like no one is on your side except me, so if no one will do anything then I will. You’ll be fine, Mr. Bang.” With that, you regained your confidence once more to walk down the hall. You caught your breath before you tapped out a message for Ryujin on your phone. Somehow, you didn’t expect her to call you right away.
“I’m sorry, but you what?!” Ryujin exclaimed, stooping you in your tracks from wherever she was.
“You said he needs to find someone and make it look real!” You hissed, trying to keep your composure the best you could in the quiet hallway.
“I didn’t mean you!”
You grumbled out a curse under your breath. “Well, it’s a bit too late for that clarification,” you bit out, “so what do I do now?”
Ryujin could be heard tapping on her cell phone as she spoke to you. “I’m on it,” she assured you, “and I’m sure you already figured you need to talk before the PTA meeting tonight. We need to make sure you’re on the same page. I’m forwarding you the statement I wrote. Hang tight, I’m going to meet you at your place.”
Chris frowned at the suit laid out on top of your couch after you’d extracted it from its garment bag. Ryujin had brought it, on loan from some unnamed resource, complete with notecards of her prepared statement in the breast pocket. “Why does this also feel like proving everyone right for some reason,” he said uncomfortably.
“What exactly is wrong?” You sighed. Chris fidgeted. He looked out of place in your apartment, his soft black hoodie and worn jeans contrasting starkly with your minimalist and meticulously organized sanctuary. His brows were furrowed with impending panic, but he looked determined.
“I’m nervous,” he bemoaned, “tell it to me again.”
“We met over the summer at a cafe downtown,” you explained impatiently.
“That’s so soon for someone like you to be backing up a pariah like me,” Chris laughed, almost on the verge of breakdown, apparently. He was choking down a milkshake. He’d brought you one too, of course, but when you politely refused he took it as a consolation prize. It was incredible to you that he seemed to be in such good shape for how much food he put down. Or, you realized, maybe a catastrophe of this caliber wasn’t very common for him.
“Put on the suit, Mr. Bang,” you urged, “please?”
“Oh my god, you need to stop calling me that if we’re dating!” Chan nervously laughed again.
“Look, I’ll be just fine, I’ll be able to fix it when we’re in front of people,” you insisted, “but you need to calm down.”
“Calm down? I’m having an entire escape plan thrust upon me and I’m trying to adjust.”
“Well,” you huffed as you found yourself meeting his level, “maybe you wouldn’t need this escape plan if you didn’t take such a lax approach to teaching.”
“Excuse me?” Chris asked, blindsided by your outburst.
“Don’t act like you don’t know what people are saying!” You doubled down in defense, squaring up against him as you impatiently folded your arms.
“Why don’t you tell me, ma’am, what exactly people are saying about me?” Chris stood defiantly, toe to toe with you and daring you to follow through. You took the bait.
“You know exactly what people are saying,” you challenged him, “that you refuse to take the role seriously because it’s easier that way. You give these students too much freedom, and you’re encouraging them to act out. Who needs homework? Who needs textbooks? Who needs seating charts? They call you by your first name and think you’re their best friend, that you’re one of them, only older, just like they wish they were! They live and die by your approval because you seem so cool and you don’t seem like a teacher.”
“Oh, so I don’t seem like a teacher now?” Chris scoffed.
“They certainly don’t respect you like one,” you snapped. A deep pause coursed through you both like a cold breeze before he burst.
“Well you sure as hell don’t respect me like one, so why the hell are you helping me?!” Chris shouted.
“Well,” you mocked, quickly losing grip, “here I was thinking it was the right thing to do!” You heaved out a frustrated sigh, throwing your hands in the air and finally turning away as you couldn’t stand to look at him.
However, you may have glossed over the in-progress milkshake that had been in his hands, now currently all over his hoodie and on the spotless hardwood floor of your apartment.
“Oh, great!” Chris laughed incredulously. “I sure look like I could use the help now, Miss Assistant Superintendent. Guess I’ll put on the stupid suit so I don’t make a bigger fool out of myself at my public execution tonight.”
Your face regrettably heated up as Chris frustratedly tugged his hoodie off over his head, his shirt following right after as he fished the pressed white shirt out from within the suit jacket. He had an admittedly nice figure, his toned torso never being hinted at through his comfy wardrobe. A set of tattooed compass roses on his upper arm caught your attention, and you wished you didn’t find it attractively endearing. “I don’t know why I agreed to this,” he ranted, “no one would ever believe I’d date a stuck-up, uptight, tyrant like you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” you fumed as you turned away, not wanting to get distracted, “except no one would believe I’d ever date an arrogant ingrate like you.”
Chris could be heard pacing behind you as he buttoned the shirt, apparently pausing at your mantle over the fireplace. “I bet you were a nightmare as a student, a real grade-grubber and brown-noser,” he grumbled, now seeming to have found your framed photos of you and your friends at graduation, first from high school and then from undergrad. “I’m going to hang myself with this godawful tie— is this you?”
You rolled your eyes as you walked over and snatched his tie out of his fingers to do it yourself. He’d already deftly changed his pants while you weren’t watching. “Sure, that’s me,” you muttered, “and no, I wasn’t a nightmare, thank you very much.” You paused as you felt a shift in his silence and glanced up at him. For the first time you noticed a subtle cologne on him, a gentle musk that was miserably attractive on him and you just wanted to get this over with even faster. Chris was giving you that indecipherable look again as you fiddled with the stupid necktie. From this close, you could see a cute little dot just under his lip, a telltale spacer that more than likely usually held a lip ring and—
Oh.
Hello, stranger.
Chris was gravely silent as he parked in front of your apartment later that night. The PTA meeting had been a disaster, starting the moment you left to travel back to the high school, where the meetings were held in the main theater. A loaded silence had staked itself between you the whole drive, and neither of you had reviewed Ryujin’s statement whatsoever. Nonetheless, you sat and stood close enough to each other during the meeting to be clear but not obscene in what you both were implying with your proximity, and you were faithfully beside him as he approached the podium. It was difficult to ignore the hushed whispers resounding through the audience. Chris’ brazen confidence was all but gone by now, fully broken as multiple hands immediately shot up to get a word in. Chris had forged ahead, though, even as his hands tried not to tremble around his notes. Ryujin’s statement didn’t mince words, just like her. He read out how his inexperience wrongly led him to take a more casual approach to teaching, how he’d recklessly and misguidedly inspired his students to put too much trust in him. He read out what a struggle this presented for both of you, being faced with accusations of such severity, and wishing to regain the trust of the assembled teachers and parents. The hands stayed in the air, and Johnny moderated question after question and Chris adamantly confirmed again and again and again that he had done nothing except naively neglect to put a firmer stop to all this. He was the one, and not Ryujin, to say that he should have brought the letters to Johnny’s attention and not simply ignored them, hoping the situation would stop on its own. More hands kept raising. Seemingly every parent belonging to a letter on Chris’ door was here wanting personal reassurance and, subsequently, a reason from him that their children were acting out. It felt like a never ending ordeal, a constant string of hurt and confused parents needing comfort. Johnny had no words for Chris when he finally ended the meeting, putting him out of his misery. Nothing else got done on the agenda that night. He only clapped a sympathetic hand to his teacher’s shoulder.
You tapped out what happened in a text message to Ryujin. Her diagnosis was optimistic but tough, and in your continued silence in the car, you suddenly realized you were stopped in front of your apartment. Chris was quiet, zoning out at the wheel until you nudged him.
“Ryujin says we can still do this,” you encouraged him. “Enough of the parents should believe you. We just need to make sure the students and staff do, too…. as well as the board.”
Chris leaned forward, letting his head rest against the steering wheel. “I wish they didn’t have to believe me. They’re probably stressed as hell over this. This whole thing is such shit,” he muttered. “We don’t even like each other.”
“We don’t?”
“What?” Chris sullenly chuckled. “Just because we did ages ago?”
“I mean,” you shrugged, “I remembered that pretty fondly. I thought of that kiss all summer.”
“We kissed?”
Ouch.
You sighed. “Fine then. You’re right. We don’t like each other. You’re cocky and naive and I’m…”
“Uptight?” Chris smirked, but he shut his mouth when you clearly didn’t appreciate the jab. “I’m sorry. I do appreciate everything you’re doing, you know. I just… I’m going through it.”
“I know,” you commiserated.
“What do we do now?”
“There’s a board meeting next Wednesday night,” you explained. “You can accompany me to that, and that’ll take care of them. Until then, we keep up appearances at school, now that we’re exposed.”
“How are we doing that?”
“I’ll figure something out,” you reassured him. “What’ll you do now?”
“Oh, you know,” Chris laughed tiredly, “probably go pick up a taco box and try not to ruin this suit.”
You nodded in understanding as you unbuckled your seatbelt and dug around in your bag for your keys. “No hoodies, okay?”
Chris nodded, watching as you stepped out of the car and fussily smoothed your skirt back down. “Do you need me to walk you up?”
“I can manage,” you grinned softly as you pulled something out of your bag. You handed him the offending note from that morning. “I didn’t do this just because I thought you didn’t do anything. This letter is addressed to a Chris but it appears to actually be a student named Christian S.”
“Oh,” Chris grimaced, “isn’t he Superintendent Simmons’ son? I have him in fourth period. He’s one of the first chairs in Taeil’s concert band. He’s sort of… gross, sometimes, about girls. I can’t say I’m surprised, but I’m still disappointed.”
“You alright?”
“I should’ve done something,” he muttered as he sank back into his seat, still staring at the letter.
“Don’t start with that,” you lightly admonished, “it’s not always easy to know when to interfere.”
“Thank you,” Chris said quietly.
“Of course,” you said with a small smile. “Goodnight.”
Johnny and Doyoung did a double-take as you walked into the music department the following day at lunchtime. It only made sense to you that if Chris was trying to dress up more, you’d match him by dressing down more. Your requisite suit and heels were switched out for a simple blouse with some tailored jeans and flats. That alone was a huge step for you, considering you even refused to dress down for the annual Welcome Back picnic for the district staff every year. You felt uncomfortable despite still looking clean and poised, but leagues more approachable apparently, proven as students’ passing glances lingered on their way to the cafeteria. Johnny’s look was simply one of surprise, but Doyoung’s was nothing but bitterness. Even Chris, as he happened to prop open his classroom door when you walked down the hall, was curious to see you looking so casual and chipper as you strutted up to him with a bundle in your arms. He was surprisingly handsome, wearing a blazer over a simple t-shirt with some slim jeans and sneakers — better, but not quite there. He couldn’t help a small smile as you theatrically revealed what you had brought: his cleaned hoodie and shirt folded and draped over a bag of takeout to split.
“Hungry?” You asked sweetly, but hopefully not overdone. A couple of students walked past, their eyes boring into you. Chris looked unfazed, took the hoodie and shirt from your hands and, with a quick look down the hall at Doyoung and Johnny, beckoned you into the classroom with a nod.
“Starving,” he answered with a grin, and even gave Johnny a cheery wave as he promptly shut the door again behind you. “What are you doing here?” He quietly asked you, the dazzling facade of confidence instantly crumbling. His panicked surprise wasn’t lost on you.
“We need to keep up appearances like I said. It’s Friday, you’re going through a hard time, and you’re eating like you grew another stomach. I brought us something to eat,” you explained, pushing the bag into his hands.
“You—“ Chris looked dumbfounded, eyes darting between you and the food in his hands, “— brought me lunch?”
“Yes? What else was this supposed to be? I’m your girlfriend, for all intents and purposes.” You led Chris back into his own office and helped yourself to a seat. “We also need to brush up on our relationship in case anyone asks.”
“Fine,” Chris nodded as he dug into his food. “Let’s study, then. I’m guessing you went to college right after we met, and I’m sure you taught at least a little before this.”
“Grade schoolers,” you nodded, “it was good but not for me. I never asked about your accent.”
“You did, actually. That first time, so that’s probably why you don’t remember. I grew up in Sydney, moved here before junior year in high school. Do you live by yourself? I didn’t see a roommate or any cats.”
“I live by myself,” you confirmed, “I gave up on roommates around the time I took this job. No time for pets, either. I guess I’m too uptight.” Chris winced as you continued. “Yes, I’m aware of it; I guess I’m just sensitive. Did you find a good place in the area?”
“Yeah,” Chris said thoughtfully, “cute little house. You should probably see it sometime.”
“You bought a house?!”
Chris’ ears reddened. “Yes? Again, it’s little. A couple bedrooms, a couple bathrooms. Lots of work to be done on it, but it’s all mine. Here, look.” You watched, momentarily stunned as he fished his phone out of his pocket and clicked it open. He pulled up a surprisingly adorable photo of Chris in front of a humble little house, holding what you could only assume was his dog you didn’t know he had. “Cute, right? Her name is Berry. You should meet her.”
“I’m so sorry,” you shook your head in advance, “but you could afford a house? What brought you to teaching anyway?”
“Producing was good, but not for me,” Chris meekly bit at his lip, “I always wanted to try teaching what I know, and thankfully your team brought me on while I’m still earning my degree.”
“So one day you just decided to be an educator?” You asked dubiously.
“Didn’t you?” Chris seemed more cagey now, more defensive.
“Sure, but maybe this explains your approach to teaching.”
Chris sighed hard and set his food down. “You know what? I knew you were bringing it back to that. Here I was thinking we were on a little better footing after last night. My approach to teaching came from thinking of what I wanted when I was these kids’ age. I wanted someone to treat me with respect and value my opinion and talk to me like an adult.”
“Right,” you nodded, “but that acceptance clearly looks like an invitation to some students.”
“An invitation to what? The other staff are always saying how closed off their students are, but they’re not like that with me. They’re proactive, they’re independent, they’re thoughtful, they’re excited to be here.”
“What about students who aren’t yours?” You challenged him with your stare. It would’ve looked better in a suit. “Your students are in love with you — some of them literally — and it makes them act out with their other teachers, even students who aren’t yours are citing you as their inspiration. Terrific and capable teachers are being defied simply because they’re not you. Admit this is easier for you than establishing and upholding boundaries.”
Chris listened, but he scoffed nonetheless. “Fine. It’s easier. I’m terrified of these kids but I want them to like me and trust me. But even if I assign them homework and treat them like they’re children, that still won’t solve how the teachers don’t trust me.”
“They will,” you impatiently assured him.
“Even Doyoung?”
“Why do you care?!” You gave a stunned chuckle.
“I mean he punched me in the fucking face yesterday,” Chris shrugged. “Is it true you two dated?”
You gaped at him, stunned. “Why do you care?” You repeated. Chris nonchalantly shrugged. “Are you jealous?” You were provoking him on purpose, but there was no use in pretending you weren’t disgusted with this line of questioning.
“No! We don’t even like each other.” Chris was floundering, now facing his desk more than you. “I’m a naive and arrogant asshole and you’re an uptight ballbuster who sold out, remember?”
“Sold out?” You guffawed, standing up now. “Who the hell do you think you are?! I grew up.”
“Right, well—“ Chris barked as he got up to square off against you. “Did you grow into a stuck-up busybody who is more worried about how she looks than how she’s doing?”
Chris’ ears were burning scarlet as you bristled at his words, but he still walked you to the door as you stormed away. “That was too much. I’m sorry,” he apologized sheepishly before he opened the classroom door into the hall.
“Go fuck yourself, Mr. Bang,” you quietly gritted out, despite your saccharine smile in case anyone was watching. “I’m helping you and then I’m never speaking to you again.”
You were right back in your suit jacket and skirt on Monday, having stewed all weekend over how much more you hated doing this with Chris now. Worse, you hated feeling like he was right. He was shamefully attractive and smart and funny and charming and as much as you hated it — he was right. Somewhere between getting your teaching degree and getting offered your job, you’d become incredibly jaded by the people around you, but not without reason. Even now, the only people who went out of their way to make sure you didn’t feel like you were some child were Ryujin and Yeji… and Chris. Doyoung had, too, which was why you had dated briefly, but now he had joined everyone else in babying you like you were bound to fail. That wasn’t even mentioning the board, made up of all men from old money who mostly seemed to hire you for humor and bragging rights. Even still, this wasn’t even mentioning Superintendent Simmons, who talked to you like he was a lion with a mouse in its paws.
So, sure, you had reasons to be aloof around the people surrounding you, but Chris’s nagging was starting to bother you. Yes, you were leagues more organized and fastidious than you had been growing up, and you even took some solace in sprucing up your space, but you also had to recognize you were quick to do that instead of facing problems at times. It was easy to organize the kitchen for the fourth time or clean out your closet, but it wasn’t always easy to deal with adult problems. You took great pride in your appearances, because looking capable helped you feel capable, but did that mean you were? It was difficult to say, almost as difficult as deciphering Yeji’s bemused look on your way into the office on Monday.
A gorgeous bouquet of flowers was sitting on your desk. You curiously walked over, plucking the small envelope from within the buds and gently prying it open.
Hello Stranger,
1. Are these still your favorite color? You mentioned it years ago so I could be wrong.
2. I’m sorry about Friday again. I know I’m a hot-head and what I did was terrible. You’re not stuck-up, and you’re not a tyrant. When I think back to that summer, I thought we were on the same page, and now you make it look so easy while I feel like I’m completely lost and failing the whole time. I appreciate you helping me. Thank you.
A stiff sigh fell from your lips as you looked at the note in your hands, with Chris’ dumb, nice handwriting giving you a feeling you couldn’t quite place. You quickly paged Ryujin and Yeji into your office. Once both girls were sat waiting for you, it was time for the dreaded question.
“What do people think of me?”
Both girls looked like they’d seen their lives flash before their eyes as you sat at your desk and did some quick typing. When you showed them your screen, they both gasped. There was you, all acne and unfortunate appearance choices at your high school graduation. “It’s not a loaded question,” you promised, “think of it more as a confirmation. I think I’m trying too hard to hide this person.” You gave the girl in the photo a sympathetic look. She was bright, funny, and brimming with potential — even you could see that.
Yeji surprisingly sighed out her answer first. “The other office staff were still whispering about you when you hired me. They said you just wanted to hire other young women to look progressive.”
All three of you rolled your eyes at the sentiment before Ryujin piped up. “The board does like you… because they think you’ll do their bidding. They think you’re ruthless. The teachers think you have an iron fist. The Superintendent? Well, you know how he feels.”
A sour grimace pulled at your lips. “Why don’t I like any of that?”
“Is it because it’s not what she would want?” Yeji thoughtfully asked you as she nodded in the direction of the photo on your computer screen. You thought back to what Chris had said, about wanting to be the person he wanted around at that age. It was such a trip, thinking of what that girl would do if she saw you now. She’d give you a belligerent sneer and close herself off from you because you were a cold witch and you knew it. The girls watched as your shoulders softened, sinking into your chair as you pulled out your phone and found Chris’ number that Yeji had fetched for you.
>>Thanks for the flowers. I’ll be by tomorrow so we can try this all again before the board meeting dinner on Wednesday.
There were decidedly less stares as you walked down the halls of the high school again the next day when the lunch period began. You saw Johnny try to catch your attention out of the corner of your eye, but you simply waved as you passed his office. You had a sneaking suspicion it was about your outfit. As opposed to Friday’s jeans, you felt much more comfortable being more comfortable as opposed to someone you thought you should be. The pencil skirt remained, only now in a cozier dark pallet and much comfier material. The biggest changes were pairing the skirt with a soft flannel shirt and a smart pair of suede oxfords. You felt exposed in how dressed down you were again, but Chris’ surprised smile as you stood in the doorway of his classroom reassured you. He looked good, his hair moderately styled back and wearing another smart blazer over another old band tee. You could see he was even wearing chinos today, still managing to coordinate them with some worn boots not unlike the pair you used to own all those years ago. It was a good look, one that made you a bit more bashful than you had been already.
“Hello, stranger,” you cheekily greeted from the doorway.
“Hey,” he smiled back, motioning for you to come in.
“Hungry?” You asked, fishing a bag out of your purse and placing it in his hands. He peered inside as you set your purse on his desk.
“Are these—?”
“I felt so awful this weekend,” you sighed as you leaned against his desk, still unable to keep from straightening stacks of his papers, “and especially after yesterday. I couldn’t think straight so I cleaned my apartment and made you some cookies.”
“You made me cookies?” He asked incredulously before taking a bite. You could’ve sworn his eyes actually sparkled for a moment. “Alright, these are so good there’s no way you still can’t think straight.”
“You’re right,” you nodded. “Just like you were already right, about almost everything. But you left one detail out.”
“What’s that?” Chris grinned around a mouthful of cookie.
“You make it look pretty easy yourself,” you smiled softly. Chris raised an eyebrow.
“I find that hard to believe.”
“I know you do,” you laughed, “but it’s true! You’ve already done just fine in an industry of your choosing and impulsively decided to become an educator? And you just happen to be financially smart enough to have a house already? It’s reckless but it’s admirable.”
Chris choked on the last of his cookie, his dark hair falling out of place as he composed himself. “I, er, should be up front about that.”
“About what?”
“About deciding to change directions,” Chris sighed. “I had a giant proposal on my hands. I could have had my own company and my own team, but it was a huge investment entirely depending on me and my success. I froze up. I had enough. It felt way too big. I got rid of my fancy apartment, I got rid of my suits and watches, and I just moved.” A sigh fell from Chris’ lips as he folded his arms. He couldn’t meet your imploring stare. “I wish I could do what you do,” he continued. “I want to march headfirst into every single thing no matter what people think of me.”
A surprised laugh escaped you before you could stop it. You covered your mouth as your face heated up. “I’m terrified,” you explained. “Just like you were scared to take that chance, just like you and most of us are reasonably scared of these kids — I’m terrified. I’ve worn suits to attend sports events and picnics with the staff from how terrified I am of them.”
“Well, you look really good today,” Chris beamed at you, but the distracted nuance of his gaze didn’t let it last long. You playfully sat back on his desk, trying to keep his mood up.
“I feel good today.”
“I lied, by the way,” Chris sheepishly blurted. “I know we kissed that night. I thought about it all the time. I didn’t go out with anyone for almost a whole year, I thought about it so much. If you knew I still remembered, I would be too tempted to get distracted. But I’m getting distracted anyway, so I thought you should know. You look really good today.”
A flattered smile pulled at your lips as you reached for Chris’ hand where it rested on the desk. His hand was warm and gentle in yours and he looked up at you, silently gauging your look to see if it was alright to lean up more into your space… when your phone buzzed with a message. It was Johnny.
>I was trying to get your attention when you came in. Simmons is here TOURING THE MUSIC DEPARTMENT. Get that time bomb out of there NOW.
But it was far too late. Superintendent Simmons could be heard talking to Doyoung in the hallway. Chris watched curiously as you whirled around just in time to catch them appearing in the open doorway.
“Yes, Mr. Kim, I’d love to hear your plans for the year but— ah, hello, dear!”
You winced at the use of the word “dear” but fought it back. “Superintendent,” you nodded cordially, “what’re you doing here?”
“I wanted to take a stroll through the department,” the older man coolly insisted, his hands in the pockets of his suit. “I also thought I could finally meet young Christopher here since I wasn’t sure if he was accompanying you to the meeting tomorrow.”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Your question was stated friendly enough, even as you subtly waved a calming hand back to Chris to keep him back.
The Superintendent shrugged. “You know how it is, dear. My son takes his class but I haven’t even met the man before. We’re certainly not exempt from being aware of current goings-on and I wanted to see who all the fuss was about.”
“Do I live up to your expectation?” Chris suddenly asked, unmistakably indignant as he came forward.
“Seeing as my expectations were of a naive, insubordinate, carpe-diem-prescribing kid,” Simmons smirked, “then yes.”
“Excuse me, Superintendent,” you huffed sharply, “but I do not appreciate you speaking to Mr. Bang that way, first as one of my staff members and second as my partner.”
“Oh-ho!” Mr. Simmons threw his head back with a laugh. “Your partner? How unbecoming of you, dear. Now, I would normally do the professional courtesy of discussing this in private, but as you always deem it appropriate to throw a fit, I’ll do it here— you know we need to terminate Mr. Bang. Too much liability.”
A wildfire ignited behind your eyes before you quickly jumped into action. If you had a moment to spare, you would’ve considered the possible consequences. “Mr. Simmons,” you spat, “you know for a fact there are liabilities just as big, if not bigger, right under your nose, just like I know for a fact Mr. Bang is in possession of a confiscated note containing quite the insinuation that your son Christian is having a very close and troubling relationship with one of Mr. Kim’s most promising freshmen.”
You hazarded a look behind you and Chris returned it, petrified. It was a low, risky blow, but an apparently fair one as Mr. Simmons’ eyes grew wide. He stubbornly shook his head. “Christian is a smart boy who is studying hard and has no time—“
“—Christian turned 18 over the summer and wants to have as much fun as he can in high school before he goes to college,” Chris finally spoke up. “He’s said as much in class, and if I recall correctly, that girl is 14. I can show you the letter. He met her at a party that she doesn’t remember but all she knows is she is woefully in love with him. As your son’s teacher I’m a mandated reporter if I think this is an unsafe situation for either of them.”
“You want to play executioner with a man you admitted you just met? Fine,” you warned. “But just like your gossip, you’re not exempt from this, either.”
At that moment, Doyoung sheepishly poked his head into the open doorway, politely coughing to get the attention of Mr. Simmons, who was now sputtering until his face had turned red. “Mr. Superintendent,” Doyoung timidly spoke up, “perhaps you would like to come discuss those plans—“
“Fine time for you to decide to act like a teacher,” Simmons growled towards Chris, before he thrust a fat finger into your chest. “This isn’t done, dear. He’s on thin ice, and now you are, too. Let’s see how long it can hold both of you.” Superintendent Simmons turned on his heel, marching out the door past Doyoung and towards his classroom. Doyoung leaned into the room, giving you both a look that remarkably appeared to be sympathetic support. “Are you alright?” He quietly asked.
You nodded shallowly, still a bit stunned. “Yes, thank you, Mr. Kim.” Chris was seemingly dazed as you turned to face him. “Mr. Bang, can I see you in your office?”
Chris barely nodded himself, having gone pale during your confrontation, and Doyoung silently wished you well before closing the door behind him and trotting down the hall after the older man. You clutched onto Chris’ sleeve and pulled him into his office, guiding him in before you quietly closed the door.
You realized you were breathing heavily, chest rising and falling hard with adrenaline as you looked behind you to check on Chris. He was staring back at you, almost shocked, even as you gently took his hand again to make sure he was alright. His fingers had turned clammy where they squeezed yours, and you shared a brief silence, recovering and staring at each other until he finally spoke up.
“You wanted to see me, ma’am?”
“Yes, Mr. Bang,” you nodded, leaning back against the door and pulling him a little closer. You felt a bit lightheaded. “I wanted you to finish your thought from before we were rudely interrupted.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he nodded dutifully, now cutting right to it as he followed your hand in his to press against you where you leaned against the door. His lips hesitated a mere breath away before he finally kissed you, deep and seemingly driven by every kiss he’d wanted to give you since that night years ago. You could’ve sworn you tasted cotton candy and his lip ring again, maybe even smell evergreen trees if you weren’t mistaken by his cologne. It was electric, re-energizing enough that Chris seemed to finally realize what just happened outside in his classroom.
“Holy shit,” Chris gasped like he just came up for air. “Did I just threaten the—“
Chris’ frantic recollection persisted even as you continued to kiss him. “Did you just warn the superintendent that he is better off tending to matters closer to home in more need of his attention? Yes.”
“Holy shit, I’m going to be fired,” Chris lamented, but even still he let his lips run over your jaw, falling into you and pressing you into the door.
“No, you’re not,” you shook your head as you cupped his face in your hands to make him look at you for a moment. “He would’ve said so. He knows this is bad and it’s going to be a pain to deal with.”
“Wait, you don’t want me to—“
“Report? You just said you should. Honestly, Mr. Kim probably would’ve already if he read the letter more closely in the first place.” You held his gaze as you led his hands around your waist and he quickly got the hint, wrapping around you and diving back into you. “Am I still a ballbuster?” You breathlessly chuckled.
He nodded heartily as he nibbled and kissed your neck. “I love it.” Chris hesitated as he pulled away from your throat, almost asking permission as he kissed you hard against the door, his tongue hot and needy against yours as he almost knocked the breath out of you.
“Mr. Bang—“ you gasped, and you felt him shiver in the cutest way. He seemed emboldened to let his hands get a little braver, following your hint when you led them to the waistband of your skirt, and he fumbled with your shirt as he untucked it and began unbuttoning it. It was a bizarre sensation, feeling so vulnerable to someone you hadn’t known long but had been thinking of for years, and maybe you weren’t the only one. Chris’ breath seemed to catch in his throat as he leaned back enough to see, his hungry eyes falling on you as he pulled open your shirt and became impatient for more. You gasped again as he pushed you back against the door, his strong hands now tenderly roaming down your chest and groping your breasts as he kissed you before he came back to the waist of your skirt again. His confidence seemed to be returning in full now as his hands firmly ran down your thighs to the hem of your skirt, his lips trailing down your chest and nuzzling your cleavage as he gingerly lifted it. Another gasp caught in your lungs as his fingertips wandered up your legs and paused, his trepidation even spreading to the extent that he seemed hesitant to kiss you again. You reached up to gently cup his face, his cheek warm against your palm as you tried to see what could possibly be wrong in this moment. Out there, sure, that was all understandable, but in this tiny office there was no reason for anything to be wrong.
“Mr.—“ you began softly, instantly cutting yourself off as you realized. Oh. “Chris,” you began, more confidently now, “are you alright?”
He sighed out a small laugh before he finally kissed you again. “I am. I just missed you, is all. I’ve been thinking about you. It’s still hard to believe any of this is happening, so Mr. Bang is going to be fine for my students but I’d much prefer it if you and I are more personal than that.”
“I can do that,” you grinned, that stunted gasp from earlier finally coming back and completing as Chris finally let himself caress you under your skirt, getting as personal as you both were yearning for. His fingertips were firm but slow, purposeful as they teased the hem of your panties but continued over them to feel you between your legs, making you so aware of your heat against his hand. He smirked as you shivered at his touch, and you felt your face heat up. “Sorry,” you laughed breathlessly, “it’s been a while.”
“I couldn’t tell,” Chris assured you, finally gasping himself as you regained your mental footing and let your hand drop, trailing down his chest to get an exploratory grip on his growing erection in his pants before you brought him back to kiss you again. His muffled sighs and moans grew feverish as you teased him through his clothes, up to the moment he pressed your hips back against the closed door. You watched curiously as Chris’ lips ghosted down your chest and stomach until he was on his knees for you, dangerously close to nuzzling your damp heat until you let yourself subtly roll your hips towards his mouth. He took the cue to instantly pull the thin fabric aside, just enough that he could dip his tongue into your folds.
Chris couldn’t take his eyes off you as he lapped you up, one hand holding your panties aside and the other clutching onto your bared thigh as you squirmed and mewled for him. Your fingers stroked back through his hair as he held you tight and hungrily licked until he just happened to hit the perfect spot. That, of course, was when he stopped, leaning away and his shiny lips pulled into a mischievous smirk. “I need you so bad,” he drawled, “I’m getting impatient.”
“You?” You giggled sarcastically. “Impatient? Impossible.”
Nevertheless, Chris rocked back onto his feet and pulled you over to his desk before he sat you on top of it, gently pulling your knees apart to step between them. “Are you sure?”
“Definitely,” you nodded. “Do it.”
Chris grinned shyly as he unbuckled his belt and brought his pants down enough to reveal his hard cock, groaning as you brazenly grabbed his length and pumped it a few times in your hand before guiding him into you. You both gasped in tandem now as you were stretched open, and your legs quickly found purchase around his hips as he kissed you again, the faintest taste and scent of your wetness still on his lips. He filled you out unexpectedly, prodding deep into you in this angle and his girth just wide enough at the base to make you whimper each time he bottomed out.
“God, this is so good,” Chris groaned against your lips, “you’re so good. I’ve thought of this so many times.” His groans and whispered curses were hot in your ear as he fucked you on the desk, and you were both lost in this endless moment while you both sounded like you were steadily climbing your respective peaks until you noticed his prolonged smirk.
“What’s so funny?” You jokingly accused.
“Nothing,” Chris shook his head with a breathless smile, “I’m just surprised. I honestly expected you to be a little more in charge.”
“Oh, am I not as dominant as you thought?” You pouted for effect, seeming to only convince him for a second before you kicked him back into his chair anyhow and willingly taking his bait. He watched, his hands clutching the armrests with intrepid excitement as you dropped onto his lap. “Is this more what you had in mind?”
“Actually, yeah,” Chris nodded hungrily as you raised your hips, just enough to pull your panties to the side and grind your soaked pussy against the head of his cock. You both sighed in pleasure at the sensation as you took your sweet time dipping his length into you just the slightest bit, your lips parted to barely kiss him the whole time you teased yourself against him. He actually waited patiently as you barely rolled your hips lower into him, even as he began to get impatient again. “Heh, hey,” Chris laughed under his breath, “aren’t you gonna—“
“Whatever happened to your lip ring?” You asked him, teasingly oblivious to his question.
“My wha— oh, that?” Chris was almost delirious trying to rock his hips up into you. “Don’t laugh, but I didn’t think it looked very professional when I first interviewed. I already wasn’t wearing it out to events and meetings, so not wearing it to school made sense.”
“I’m not going to laugh,” you smirked as you playfully pretended you were about to kiss him over and over, your lips ghosting over his own time and time again as his cock surreptitiously tried to work deeper into you, “but that’s ridiculously funny. You’re literally still wearing your earrings, and don’t try telling me that’s different. Weren’t you waiting for something, by the way?”
“Was I waiting—? Come on, aren’t you going to…?”
“Aren’t I going to what?” You asked innocently. Chris’ head lolled back against the head of his chair in exasperation.
“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” His question was quiet, almost as if he were shy to be saying it out loud, but he asked it nevertheless.
“Sure,” you shrugged casually, “are you going to wear that lip ring for me sometime? I want to see if it has the same effect.”
“Anything, if you’re that easy,” Chris quipped, even as he was unable to hide the excited tremble in his voice.
“I’m easy?” You asked, eyebrows raised as you finally sank deep onto Chris’ erection and kissed him again. His muffled groan was thick, laced with satisfaction as you began to ride him in earnest. The hot moans falling from his lips echoed your own impassioned whimpers, only growing more feverish as you angled your hips down, enabling yourself to grind your clit down against his lap. By now you were so lost in it that were thoroughly soaked through your panties you were still wearing.
“Are you sure you’re not easy?” Chris chuckled exhaustedly, even as he nuzzled against your heaving cleavage and gripped tight onto your hips. It was his turn to whimper as you desperately ran your fingers through his hair to clutch onto him as you felt your peak coming fast. Chris must’ve not been far behind, considering the way he sweetly groaned your name against your skin, as if to personally coax out your orgasm.
The air between you was hot, static, and the way Chris held you was surprisingly affectionate. Despite how much ire and sarcasm had been slung between you previously, now you were both rendered speechless, your staccato breaths falling heavy in the spaces between your sighs and moans. Giving in to Chris didn’t feel like giving up like you had been afraid of for some reason. Reality seemed to be that he may even be quite fond of you, maybe even more than you’d previously imagined, despite how much you did or didn’t change. He obviously wanted to do more than kiss you, and now it seemed he wanted to do more than just fuck you. Chris’ fingertips dug into your hips as he thrust up against you, and you suddenly caught yourself meeting his gaze. The feeling was mutual, apparently, the blown out arousal in his eyes probably echoing your own impending orgasm slowly rising up your spine and making your head spin. He seemed to catch this as he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and pressing his lips to your throat as he pistoned his hard length deep inside you, the head dragging along your sensitive walls and daring you to cum.
So you finally did. It hit you hard, giving you barely a moment’s notice for you to grab onto Chris, wrapping your arms around his neck as your core shuddered, radiating out to your quaking thighs and trembling fingers as your heightened moans hit a fever pitch. This, of course, was the final straw for Chris, his orgasm not far behind yours as he tensed up, palms pushing flat against the small of your back as he rutted into you with a broken groan. He uttered a sharp curse under his breath, eyes squeezed shut with the force of his own climax spilling into you as you finished riding out your own on his lap.
It felt like an eternity, wrapped around each other, faces buried in each other’s shoulders as you both fought for breath and you finally realized how cramped it was straddling Chris in his desk chair, the armrests uncomfortably digging into your legs. As if to mitigate this silent complaint you had, Chris gently began to ease you off of him as he simultaneously pulled you to him for a tiredly satisfied kiss. The bright lights in your eyes finally dulled and the imaginary cotton in your ears finally fell out, letting the sound return to normal. You could hear the low drone of the air conditioner, the muted hum of the hard drive in Chris’ laptop, the clatter of the classroom doorknob outside turning open—
Chris heard it, too, with how he bolted upright with you in his lap. You both stared at the door of his office in terror; this was no way for the assistant superintendent to be found, in post-orgasmic bliss with her legs wrapped around a teacher who was still in a heap of trouble, and you had no chance of escape. Footsteps could be heard approaching before Chris quickly pushed at your retreating knees, apparently on the same page as you when he helped you slide off his lap and under his desk. You scrambled forward to grab at his chair and wheel him close as he desperately stuffed himself back in his pants and tried to make himself presentable. A knock came at the door and Chris quickly wiped the accumulated perspiration off his brow.
“Come in—!“ he coughed, trying to sound chipper and casual, and as if he didn’t just orgasm with you barely two minutes prior. He gave you one crazed look to make sure you were alright shoved under the desk before the door to his office gingerly opened.
“Hey—“
Doyoung?
“Mr. Kim!” Chris sat up a little straighter, inadvertently kicking you in your shin in the process and nearly making you curse out loud. You reflexively punched him in the knee, making him jump as he tried to appear natural. “Is everything alright?”
“What, with me? I’m fine. It’s just...” Doyoung sighed, apparently not moving from where he awkwardly stood in the doorway of the tiny office. “Was it true, what you said about the superintendent’s son?”
“It was,” Chris said solemnly. “Would you like to see the letter again?” His question was genuine, any ill feelings towards the other teacher seeming to have dissipated by now. Your ears perked up as Chris leaned forward. You could hear papers shuffled overhead. He still had it? You could hear a piece of paper being handed to Doyoung, whose sigh only multiplied.
“I can’t believe it,” he murmured, “that’s so…”
“I know,” Chris commiserated. “Will Samantha—“
“I’ll talk to Sam,” Doyoung resolved, “but first, about the other day, I’m sorry about—“
“Mr. Kim, you don’t have to apologize,” Chris insisted, “tensions were high, you were upset, and you were protecting your student. If you’d like to help me report this I’d appreciate that. You’re a good teacher.”
“So are you, Mr. Bang,” Doyoung conceded sheepishly. “Maybe you can join me in the teacher’s lounge for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d like that.”
You could hear the smooth heel of Doyoung’s oxford turn to leave and Chris backed up from the desk. The sigh of relief you both let out revealed that you had apparently been holding your breath. He slumped back in the chair before leaning forward to offer you an assisting hand.
“Oh, one more thing—“
Chris snapped upright in his chair, accidentally kicking you again before his knees knocked into the top of his desk. He grinned through it as he attempted to look nonchalant again. “Yeah?”
“So,” Doyoung began stiffly, “you and her are, like… a thing?”
“Er,” Chris floundered for a second. “Yes. Why?”
“Why? Oh, I mean, it’s nothing,” Doyoung fumbled, “I meant, I guess, is it serious?”
Chris’ Adam’s apple could barely be seen bobbing with his sudden gulp from your vantage point, and you didn’t blame him. Serious? It wasn’t a stretch to imagine his ears turning beet red again. Your thighs were beginning to get sore where you were folded under the desk. “No! I mean, not yet,” Chris said, his stammer matching Doyoung’s now. “I want it to be, though. I really like her. Why?”
Your heart thudded against your ribs. You felt like such a sucker, but why did you also feel so smitten?
“No reason,” Doyoung laughed politely. “I’m happy for you. For both of you. She looks different with you, you know? You look good together. See you later.”
The door finally clicked closed and you both waited for the classroom door to do the same before it was Chris’ turn to let out the breath he’d been holding. He sighed heavily, melting into his chair before sliding back. His gentle hand reached down to help you out from under the desk. You held his hand, his fingers warm in yours as he met your gaze. “Hello, stranger,” he grinned, “did you have fun under the desk?” Chris fussed with your clothes, helping smooth your skirt back out and buttoning your blouse back up before he realized you were staring at him. He suddenly looked concerned, sitting up as he tried to make sense of your expression. “What? Is everything alright?”
“You want this to be serious?”
Chris almost flinched as he defensively tried to figure out your tone. He settled for getting back up from his chair and squaring up against you once again, arms folded matter-of-factly like he anticipated a confrontation. “You know what? I do.”
“This isn’t even real, Chris,” you smirked, flattered by his sincerity. “We don’t even like each other, remember?”
He let out an exasperated laugh. “Holy shit, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Go ahead, then, tell me how we aren’t real.”
“Well,” you smiled, “you haven’t asked me out, for one thing.”
It seemed Chris finally caught up to your game. “Fine,” he sarcastically scoffed. “Would you like to go out with me some time?”
“Sure,” you playfully shrugged with a smile. “How about now? Are you hungry?”
Chris was amused as he pulled you close into his arms. “You know what? I’m actually not.”
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Oikawa x reader: Final chapter
Last chapter everyone! Thank you so much if you made it this far, I really appreciate all the likes it makes me so happy if people enjoy it. Love you all 💕💕
Three months later:
I sat on my bed, fist curled around the letter in my hand. I felt numb, my lips trembling as shock and disappointment seeped down to my bones. I had ended up applying to four large art schools in Japan, not telling my parents about my plans.
But now...I stared at the crumpled rejection letter in my hand. It had been my second choice, and one of the easier ones to get into. I had sent a portfolio of my best artwork, and with Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s encouragement, I had actually begun to think I could get in.
Lip trembling, I slowly placed the letter aside and grabbed my phone, dialing before I could think. It was already 1am, but I didn’t hesitate as I began to sob.
Oikawa answered on the second ring, his voice light over the other end. “Hey Chibi-chan, what’s up?”
I couldn’t speak, not even feeling embarrassed as I sobbed into the receiver.
“Y/n, what’s wrong?” His voice turned instantly serious and urgent. “Did something happen?”
“I-I-” I blubbered. “I didn’t-”
I heard shuffling over the other end. “Are you at home?”
“Y-yes.”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Stay on the phone ok?”
I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me. “Thanks, Oikawa,” I whispered, tears still sliding down my cheeks.
He talked the whole drive, telling me about the alien movie he had seen the other night, and the meteor shower that was coming up. By the time he was in front of my house, I was giggling a little bit.
The second I unlocked the door for him, he stepped over the threshold and dragged me into a hug. I buried my face in his chest, new tears streaming down my face and covering his shirt with snot.
“Hey, it’s ok,” Oikawa murmured, stroking my hair. “Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
I clutched his shirt as we walked up the stairs together, and when we made it to my room, he tugged me onto the bed and hugged me tightly. “What’s wrong?”
I slowly reached over to the bedside table and handed him the crumpled letter. “I--I didn’t get in.”
Oikawa read it quickly, his eyes hard. “Chibi-chan…” He leaned over and hugged me, practically squeezing the air from my lungs. “It’s ok. You only got rejected from one, and there’s three more to go. It doesn’t matter.”
“But I wasn’t...I wasn’t good enough--”
“You’re totally perfect. Your art is amazing, and those fuckers didn’t deserve you anyway.”
I hugged him, my fingers digging into his shirt. “Ok.”
He laughed a little. “You’re amazing.”
I tilted my head back to look at him. “Stop,” I poked him, laughing. “You’re just being ridiculous.”
“Nope, I’m serious.”
I hugged him around the waist, letting out a low sigh. “If I’m incredible, then you are too.”
I felt him shrug. “If you say so, Chibi-chan.”
I began to tickle him, and he shrieked, falling back. “HAHAHA NO STOP!”
He wrapped me around the waist and pulled me on top of him, preventing me from tickling him but effectively causing me to be tangled up in his arms, inches from his face. I paused for a long moment, wishing wishing wishing, but he wasn’t interested in me like that. If I made a move, I would ruin our friendship and make things awkward. It was better to just enjoy things how they were now, no matter how much it hurt.
✨✨✨✨
“What time are we leaving?” I glanced over my shoulder at Kiyoko, pausing my makeup application.
“Twenty minutes! Are you ready?”
“Yeah, pretty much. You?”
“Mhm!” Her smokey eyeshadow made her eyes look catlike and hot, and her booty shorts hugged her legs.
“Damn girl!” I grinned, and she laughed.
Atsumu and Osamu Miya were throwing a house party, and Kiyoko and I had gotten invited through friends.
I tugged my tube top over my head, hiking my jeans up and tugging my hair into a messy bun. It was simple, but apparently the house party was supposed to be pretty casual.
Kiyoko and I pulled up in front of the house, which was already pounding with music and crowded with people. I followed my friend inside, instantly surrounded by drunk and high people, dancing wildly around the room.
“Ugh, I need a drink.” Kiyoko said, and I laughed.
“Ok, I’ll see you in a bit. I’m going to try and find Aoba Johsai.”
She gave me a thumbs up, and disappeared into the crowd.
I began my search, scanning the many people standing around and sitting on couches, looking for a familiar face. I spotted Iwaizumi after ten minutes, sitting in an armchair with Matsuwaka, Hanamaki, and Yahaba around him.
“Hey guys,” I grinned, taking a seat next to Hanamaki.
“Want some?” Yahaba held up a joint. I grinned and nodded, lighting the end and taking a fat hit.
The rest of Aoba Johsai joined over the course of the hour, bringing over more weed, cigarettes, and alcohol. I ended up getting so crossfaded, I could barely speak, and ended up just listening and laughing along to my friends’ conversations.
It didn’t take long for me to have to go to the bathroom really bad, after all the drinks I had passed through to my bladder. “I-bathroom-” I slurred, stumbling to my feet and making my way in the direction of the bathroom.
It took a lot longer than I expected, since I got distracted a few times. First by Bokuto, who dragged me off to play a round of beer pong, before I failed so badly that he kicked me off the team. The second time was because I spotted Karasuno and hung out with them for a little, almost peeing my pants when Kageyama tried to take a shot of whiskey and ended up spitting it everywhere.
I finally made it to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and laughing at my haggard appearance. Damn, I looked horrendous.
After a few minutes, I heard a knock on the door. “Hey, Y/n-chan, are you in there?”
“Oikawa?” I opened the bathroom door, blinking blearily at the setter. “What are you doing here?”
“Have you been in here this whole time? You’ve been gone for over an hour.”
“Oh,” I began to giggle, hand over my mouth. “No, I just got here.”
“Well thank god you didn’t get kidnapped or something.” He rolled his eyes and smirked. “Damn, you’re really fucked up.”
I shrugged. “Nawwww, not really.” I totally was.
I gazed at him for a long moment, my eyes moving along his face. His hair was messy and sticking up every which way, his shirt was rumpled, and his eyes were red and glassy, but I had never seen a more attractive person.
“Oikawa…” I let out a long sigh, fists clenching. I wanted to tell him. I bit my lip and turned to face him, suddenly determined. I finally was going to say what I had been thinking for months.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
The setter blinked, his brain clearly not completely there. “W-wait what?”
My thoughts were catching up to my actions, my sober mind realizing what I had just done. Oh...fuck no. “I-I-”
“What--” He looked blindsided, as if he had been slapped. Oh god, he wasn’t saying anything.
Bile rose in my throat so fast, I thought I was going to choke. Instead, I slapped a hand over my mouth and stumbled from the bathroom, needing to get away from the words I wished I could take back. Hadn’t I JUST promised myself I wouldn’t confess?
I heard him behind me, telling me to wait, but I half sprinted, half careened back into the crowd. Kiyoko, where was Kiyoko? She’d know what to do.
I spotted Karasuno after only a moment, and I thanked the lord for my luck.
“Oh god, please hide me, please. I just fucked up so bad,” I gasped.
Daichi, Tsukki, Asahi, Kageyama, Yamaguchi, and Hinata blinked at me in shock, but Kiyoko moved to help me.
“What’s going on?” She whisper shouted as she forced Asahi to give up his large sweatshirt.
“I just accidentally confessed to Oikawa,” I murmured, feeling tears threaten. I pulled on the jacket, tugging the hood up over my head. “I need to get out of here, I feel like I’m going to pass out if I don’t.”
“Calm down with the dramatics,” Tsukki said, but scanned the room, clearly keeping an eye out for Oikawa to see if he was nearby.
“I’m sober, I can drive you home,” Daichi said. “I wanted to get going anyway.”
“Y/n, you confessed what?” Hinata asked, and I went red. Kageyama looked shocked, and Yamaguchi smiled sweetly.
“He’s coming this direction!” Asahi said, and Hinata leapt to his feet without hesitation.
“Great King!” He ran and jumped in Oikawa’s path, preventing Seijoh’s captain from noticing me.
“Hey short fry, I’m looking for Y/n-chan. Have you seen her?”
Dachi grabbed my arm, practically dragging me from the party as I heard Hinata continuing to distract Oikawa behind us.
“Thank you for doing this,” I said to Daichi, who grinned.
“I can’t believe you told him you liked him.”
“I--” I could barely say it. “I told him I loved him, actually.”
Daichi looked momentarily shocked. “Oh--wow ok.”
My lower lip trembled. “He didn’t...say anything.”
“Just blame it on the alcohol!”
I sighed, leaning my head back against the passenger seat. “I don’t know if that will work.”
Oikawa POV:
I think I’m in love with you.
I had imagined her saying those exact words so many times, knowing it would never actually come true. How could this be real?
When she had said it, my mind had gone blank. I didn’t understand. Was she kidding? Did she mistake me for someone else? Being high didn’t particularly help, and by the time I had processed her words, she was already stumbling from the bathroom and disappearing.
No, I needed to find her. I had to tell her…
Y/n POV:
27 missed calls from Oikawa.
“What?” I muttered, glaring at my phone. That couldn’t be right. I buried my face in my pillow, embarrassment making my face burn red. Daichi had dropped me off two hours ago, and I hadn’t stopped receiving calls for the entirety of that time. I had considered answering the phone a few times, but forced myself not to. This conversation had to take place face to face.
It was Saturday, which meant that I had all of Sunday to come to terms with the rejection that was probably coming my way. I was sure after that Oikawa wouldn’t let me avoid him anymore.
Obviously, that was easier said than done. I researched “10 Ways to Get over a Guy,” and “Methods for Self Love” but it seemed the two biggest ways to help were distance and time, neither of which I had. Instead, I would have to just toughen myself up.
Monday came, and I did the best I could to avoid Oikawa. I didn’t talk to Iwaizumi either, quite sure that he knew of what had happened. Instead, I kept my head down, skipped the class I had with Oikawa, and ate lunch in my car.
Unfortunately, as I expected, it didn’t last.
I ended up being late to my last class of the day, since my previous teacher had to discuss an assignment with me and kept me over time. The halls were empty as I speed walked across the school, exhaustion weighing heavy. I considered just ditching, but I had already skipped one class, and I didn’t want to rack that number up.
As I got to the end of the hall, I heard the sound of someone running behind me. Before I could turn around, a hand grabbed me around the wrist and wanked me into an empty side classroom.
“What the--”
A hand went gently over my mouth, silencing me, and I blinked in shock as I stared into Oikawa’s brown eyes.
“Finally found you,” he panted.
“What are you doing?” I mumbled around his hand.
“You’ve been avoiding me all weekend.”
I looked away, feeling my face flush. “N-no, I was just busy.”
His eyes narrowed. “Right.”
I shoved his hand away and wiped my mouth, glancing towards the door.
Oikawa’s hand slammed next to my head, effectively blocking my exit with his arm. “Where are you going?”
My breath shuddered out in a loud huff. “No where.”
He tilted his head, leaning towards me. “What did you mean on Saturday night at the party?”
“Huh?” I decided that playing stupid was the best course of action for now.
With the hand that wasn’t blocking my exit, Oikawa grabbed my chin and lifted it so I was forced to look into his eyes. “Did you mean it?”
I was blushing so much, I felt like my skin was probably boiling. “I was drunk I-I don’t know what--I don’t want this to ruin our friendship--just forget it--”
“Tell me the truth, Chibi-chan.”
I opened my mouth.
“I-I love you.”
Oikawa’s eyes widened, his mouth parting as his cheeks flamed. “You--”
He paused, both of his hands coming to cup my cheeks. I bit my lip, trying to pull away, my embarrassment eating me up inside.
“Just forget it, it’s not--”
I gasped as Oikawa’s lips crashed against mine, effectively silencing me. My eyes drifted shut and I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him closer as his mouth moved down to my neck, his hands sliding around my waist.
He pulled away, eyes wide. His fingers ran along my cheekbone and he crushed me in a hug. “I-I’m so happy! I didn’t think...” He laughed.
I stared at him, my brain slightly short circuited. “Wha--”
He leaned down, eyes intense and a small smile on his face. “I love you Chibi-chan, so much.”
I blinked a few times, before I began to giggle hysterically. Oikawa brushed the hair away from my face and kissed me again, making my head spin. His lips were so soft, and I tugged my hands through his hair, making a small noise as his tongue moved across my bottom lip.
Suddenly the school bell rang, signalling that we were officially late, and I jumped violently away from Oikawa.
“What about class?” I asked, still on a weird high and feeling slightly delirious.
Oikawa huffed a laugh, running a hand through his now-tossled hair. “I guess I’m out of practice with my kissing.”
“Huh?” I was confused, because he definitely wasn’t…
He leaned down, nose brushing mine. “If you’re thinking about class at a time like this, I clearly have to do better.”
I opened my mouth, my heart practically beating out of my chest. “Do better?”
Oikawa’s smile turned smug, and he poked my cheek. “You’re so cute! But you’re right, we should probably go to class.” He pulled away, leaving my legs shaking and face red.
“What? But you just said--”
“Woah, are you saying you want to prioritize me over your education?”
I glared at him, rolling my eyes. “Ugh, can I take back my earlier statement about loving you?”
Oikawa smiled bright as the sun, and he hugged me tightly. “I’ll see you after class.”
✨✨✨✨
Chemistry was one of the longest two hours of my entire life. By the time the bell rang, I was so jittery that I couldn’t keep my hands still. I practically ran out the door, hitching my bag on my shoulder as I went.
The hall was crowded as I waded towards the door, but I spotted Oikawa outside almost immediately, his eyes scanning the groups of people as they walked by. I instantly felt my face split open into a smile, and I ran over to him.
“Oikawa!”
He spun around, happiness lighting up his features.
“Y/n-chan!” He grabbed me around the waist and pulled me into a tight hug.
I smiled up at him. “How was your class?”
“Uhhhh…” Iwaizumi emerged from the crowd, eyebrows raised as he took in Oikawa and I’s close proximity. “Is there something…”
“Iwa-chan!” Oikawa practically bounced over to his friend. “Y/n loves me!”
I felt my face growing red, and Iwaizumi blinked. “Ok, cool. That took a while.”
“Huh?”
He rolled his eyes. “Forget it. I’m glad you guys finally figured it out.”
Oikawa threw his arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side, and I felt myself relax. I didn’t know I could be so happy.
1 month later (this is not the actual official canon outcome in the show, but I changed it for my own story):
“Go go go go go Seijoh!”
“Go go go go go Seijoh!”
Oikawa spun the ball in his hands, preparing for his serve. I could see the sweat glistening on his forehead, proof of the exhaustion that the whole team felt.
It was the third and final set of spring nationals against Shiritorizawa and Ushijima. Aoba Johsai was playing the best I had ever seen, all of our hard work finally paying off. Shiritorizawa was the best team in the prefecture though, and they didn’t disappoint. Both teams had won one set, and we were now neck and neck in the final one.
Even though I wasn’t out on the court, my heart raced and my fingers shook as I cheered on my team. I was so proud of them, even if they didn’t win.
Oikawa slammed a vicious serve, gaining our team another point, but the next one was received and set spiralling into the air.
“Chance ball!”
Watari received it, and Hanamaki sent it in Oikawa’s direction.
“Iwaizumi!”
Iwa was already in the air as Oikawa set it to him, and I gasped as the ball slammed through the hands of the blockers and hit the floor on the other side of the net.
“YES!!!” I screamed, looking at the score board. We were so close to winning…
My heart in my throat, I watched as Ushijima scored a point for Shiritorizawa, but then Hanamaki took one back for us.
One more point. We just needed one more.
Shiritorizawa was up to serve, and the ball moved so fast I could barely keep up. Watari, then Iwaizumi, then Oikawa, then Kunimi with a quick attack. The spike was received and sent spiralling, before Shiritorizawa set it and slammed it towards us again.
I was on my feet, screaming, completely losing my composure. “Get it! Get it!”
Matsukawa jumped, impossibly getting his hand beneath the ball before it could hit the ground. Oikawa was already moving, running and jumping outside the court in a long set towards Iwaizumi.
The ace jumped as if in slow motion, his arm coming down in a vicious spike, and I gasped as his hand barely tapped it. The opposing team didn’t seem to expect the soft spike either, because no one was close to the net to pick it up. They were jumping, falling, reaching for the ball but…
The satisfying thump of the ball on the court seemed to echo, and for a long moment, there was utter silence.
“WE WON!” I screamed, and the stadium erupted. I sprinted towards Oikawa, who crushed me in a hug and spun me around. He was all sweaty, but I didn’t care as he crashed his lips to mine.
“Tooru, Tooru you did it!” I yelled, squeezing him with all my might.
“I did it…” He stared at me, shock on his face. “I did it!”
The rest of the team clustered around us, yelling and hugging each other, slamming each other on the back. Kindaichi and Iwaizumi were sniffling, and most of the others looked either completely aghast or blissed out.
I glanced over at the other team, watching Ushijima and the rest of his teammates clap each other on the back, shoulders slumped in disappointment. I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity for them.
Ushijima turned to look at me, and we met eyes. I gave a strained smile, trying to convey an apology in my eyes. I felt a hand on my shoulders, and Oikawa spun me around, kissing me again.
“Oikawa!” I said breathlessly as he pulled away. He was looking past me towards Ushijima, a challenge in his gaze, and I punched him in the stomach. “Don’t start that again.”
Oikawa laughed and hugged me again. “I can’t believe we won.”
“I can. You guys are an amazing team, I’m so proud. I knew you could do it.”
My boyfriend leaned down, lips pressed to my ear. “Are you doing anything tomorrow?”
I glanced at him in surprise. “No, why?”
He smirked, eyes dark. “Because you’re not going to be able to walk in the morning.”
✨✨✨✨
“Tooru, guess what?!” I practically yelled into my phone.
“What?!”
“I got in!” The letter was laid out on my bed, its polite words burning into my mind. It was my dream school, the one I never expected to get into. “I got into the Art and Design University of Tokyo!”
“Oh my god, that’s fucking amazing!” Oikawa sounded almost just excited as me. “Holy shit, sweetheart, you’re going to be in art school!”
“I know!” I jumped up and down on my bed, laughing.
Oikawa was going to play volleyball for Japan’s team (not canon) and I was going to become a graphic designer like I wanted. We could get an apartment by Iwaizumi, who was going to a school only an hour away.
I giggled, feeling giddy. “I love you, Tooru.”
“I love you too, Y/n-chan.”
The End~
Chapter 14
#oikawa#oikawa tooru#haikyuu oikawa#oikawa fic#oikawa fanart#fanfiction#fandom#fanfic#haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#haikyu x reader#fluff#oikawa fluff
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for monster march, ghost + indruck + nsfw?
Here you go! I borrowed some ideas we’ve tossed around on the Discord
A sketchbook, new pens, a Hershey bar, and a bag of jumbo marshmallows. A small but lively fire. And a new, huge, fuzzy sleeping bag waiting for him in the tent.
Not a bad camping set up for a city-boy art goth (as Barclay likes to call him).
Indrid sticks another marshmallow on the fork, roasting it until it’s deep brown, the smell of burning sugar curling through the air and settling in his hair. He’s never liked Graham Crackers, so he jams a square of chocolate into the molten center of the marshmallow and shoves the entire thing into his mouth.
Kepler is small. Barclay hadn’t been kidding about that. He’d also been right that one of the two tattoo shops in town was willing to hire Indrid after looking through photos of his work and confirming he completed his apprenticeship.
He’s been living in the Eastwoods campground in the Monongahela National Forest while he apartment hunts, and the tattoos he’s done so far netted him enough cash to buy his luxurious new sleeping bag. He might be waiting on a place for some time, so he may as well camp in style.
Three “s’mores” later, the moon is up and the night is chilly enough that he wants his sweatshirt. Ducking into the tent, he can’t find it on his pillow, where he swears he left it this morning. Maybe he accidentally buried it getting dressed.
A splashhiss interrupts his rummaging. Scrambling from the tent, he discovers his fire is now a pile of soaked ashes and logs being angrily stirred by a thick piece of kindling.
“Excuse me, but what the fuck?”
A man in a ranger uniform appears, the stick falling through his hand as he gives Indrid a disapproving stare.
“Look here, I know you’re new here, maybe to campin entirely. But you can’t just leave a fire burnin when you go to bed.” He doesn’t sound mad, more like he’s a disappointed big brother scolding his sibling.
“I wasn’t-”
“And all this” he gestures to the food on the table, “has gotta go in the bear box. Black bears are real good foragers and we don’t want ‘em comin’ into camp and gettin to comfy around humans.”
“Of course, but-”
“You didn’t take any food into the tent, right? Wouldn’t want somethin to decide to join you ‘cause it smelled a snack.”
Indrid pinches the bridge of his nose, “I am aware of all of these rules, and plan to follow them. Once I actually go to bed instead of ducking into the tent for my sweater. But since my evening appears to be over…” he grabs the marshmallows, roasting fork, and chocolate, carries them to the bear box, and slams it closed.
When he whirls back around, the ghost is still there, chagrined.
“Uh, sorry. I kinda jumpy about people leavin fires alone.” In the lantern light, his smile is as charming as his drawl. His stocky, bearish shape and unassumingly handsome face command Indrid’s focus, which is why his revelation comes so quickly.
“You...there’s a statue of you at the visitor center. Which makes you, ah, damn it what was the name-”
“Duck. Duck Newton. They put my legal name on there, even though Juno tried to stop ‘em. But my name’s Duck.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Duck. I’m Indrid.”
“Nice to meet you too. Uh, sorry for ruinin your campfire, looks like you were havin a nice time.”
“It’s alright. I suppose I’m grateful there’s someone haunting the campsites to keep them in order.”
“You’re takin me bein’ a ghost surprisingly well.”
“I’ve always been interested in strange things, to the point that I earned the nickname ‘mothman’ in high school.”
“Huh” Duck watches him a moment, then shrugs, “well, guess I better be goin’. Have a nice night, mothman.”
With that, he’s gone.
------------------------------------------------------
“Hello again.” Indrid says as the campfire smoke curls around a human form, “Doing your rounds?”
“More or less. I like my job, and ain’t about to give it up just because I beefed it and turned into a ghost.” A creak as Duck joins him on the picnic bench. When he materializes, he floats slightly above the worn wood, watching Indrid draw.
“That’s incredible, it’s so realistic it’s like you pressed the leaves into the pages instead of colored them.”
“Thank you.” adds depth to the leaf, “you know, I looked at the statue again today. It hardly does you justice.”
From this close, he can see a blush spread up semi-opaque cheeks. Then he starts fading.
“Oh, ah, I’m sorry. I was aiming for a benign compliment, not to make you uncomfortable.”
“S’alright, just surprised me. Not many folks wanna flirt with a dead guy.”
“I’m more interested in what the ‘dead guy’ wants.” Indrid smiles, hoping to convey he would submit to spectral touches as readily as he’d keep talking.
Duck floats closer, “Kinda curious about your other drawin’s.”
Indrid turns the sketchbook back to the beginning, “they’re half portfolio and half travelogue. Here” he holds up a fade, detached piece of paper, covered by an Morpho Butterfly that looks ready to fly away, “this is the first tattoo I ever designed.”
“Damn. Guessin’ that means you did this one” he touches the Rosy Maple Moth on Indrid’s forearm (or tries to). It’s chilly, but not in the way Indrid feared. More like taking a cool shower on a sweltering day.
“I did. Here, it gave me an idea for my first series of flash tattoos…”
They go over the illustrations page by page. Slowly, Indrid weaves in questions to Duck who, instead of recoiling from discussion of his mortal life, tells him rambling stories about the woods and which places serve the best food in town.
The conversation doesn’t end until the fire goes out on it’s own, Duck standing automatically, grabbing a water bottle, swearing, and then disappearing so he can pick the bottle up.
“Do you think that’s part of why you’re still here? Some unfinished business having to do with the woods?”
“Nah.” The water bottle thunks back on the table as Duck reappears, “I tried to live a normal life, improve the world the way I knew how, make some kind of difference to this town. Then I had to go play the goddamn hero.”
“I would say saving two dozen people from a forest fire makes a considerable difference in the world.”
A sad huff of a laugh, “Yeah, guess you’re right. Just...I meant to do somethin’ with my life, not my death, even if it was a small somethin’, and the closest thing I got to unfinished business is a model ship.”
“I...what?”
“It was four-masted and everything! I had Leo order it in special and everything and then I never, I never got to-” He tilts his head up, sniffs once, “never mind. I better let you get to sleep.”
By the time Indrid calls “goodnight,” the ghost is gone.
------------------------------------------
“Please tell me you’re gettin a place soon so you stop eatin everythin outta a can?” Leo bags the last of groceries.
“No such luck. Ah well, there are worse things than canned soup and Pop-Tarts.”
“At least let Barclay feed you, half the point of havin a friend who can cook is to let ‘em do it for you. You need stamps or anything?”
“N-” A box behind the counter catches his eye. It’s at an odd angle, as if whoever put it there is hoping no one will see it. Indrid can just make out an illustration of a four-masted ship.
“Is that for sale?”
Leo looks where he’s pointing, and for a moment something in his gruff affability wavers. Then he nods, “Yeah, suppose it is.”
“Can you ring it up for me?” Indrid nearly bounces on his toes when Leo sets the box on the counter and confirms his hunch.
The older man sets a gentle hand on the cardboard, sliding it across to Indrid, “Don’t worry about that, kid. It’s yours.”
----------------------------------------------
“Duck?” Indrid turns in a circle by the picnic table, “Duck, I have something for you!”
He saw the ranger briefly last night, but he didn’t hang around. Gingerly, he sets the box on the table, tearing off a piece of sketch paper to write a note in case the ghost stops by while he’s asleep.
“Holy fuck.” Duck floats across the table from him, “‘Drid, where did, how did--why?”
“Leo still had it. As for why I, ah, it seemed like you still wanted it. If you can douse a fire and over my camp stove, I figure you can build a model ship.”
Duck disappears and Indrid’s heart sinks; that must have been too much. Then he’s squished in an invisible, wonderful bear hug.
“Thanks, ‘Drid.”
From then on, Duck spends every night at his campsite, building the ship while Indrid draws, reads, or talks with him. The model lives in the safest corner of the tent during the day.
“I mean, I’m up durin the day too, but I scared a few folks on accident and I don’t want people avoid the forest because of me.”
Indrid also learns that Duck is stuck within a certain radius of where he died, and that his attempts to talk with Juno when she was in his part of the woods only lead to his friend thinking she was hallucinating and Duck feeling miserable for three solid days. Indrid offers to act as messenger and invite Duck’s friends (many of whom have, by chance and by proximity to Barclay, become his friends) to the campsite to see him. The ranger is quiet for some time after that offer.
“Not yet. Maybe someday, but not yet. I, it ain’t even been a year, ‘Drid. I think a lot of ‘em are still hurtin. And, and maybe this is selfish but...I ain’t ready to deal with them findin’ out I aint fully gone. It’d be so much all at once.”
Indrid doesn’t bring it up again. More than once, when Aubrey tells a story about Duck only for her eyes to sadden halfway through, or when he sees Juno looking at Duck’s statue a little too long, he struggles to keep his promise.
A cold front blows into town and, since he’s still in the tent, he pops into Kepler Thrift N Find in search of an extra sweatshirt. Tucked in between one reading “Ranchos” and one with a picture of Garfield is a soft, well-loved hoodie with “Monongahela National Forest” on the front. He buys it and wears it home, the fact it’s loose in the arms making it even easier to tuck in his hands when he gets cold.
He stops by the visitor center out of habit, checking out the new plush wild animals. There are also hints of Duck here and there; his name on displays, his face in group photos. As he contemplates a small, squishy black bear, he notices Juno looking at him more than usual.
“Hello again” he sets the bear on the counter.
“Howdy. This all?
“Yes, please. Are you alright? You look, ah, tired.”
“Yep. Or, uh, just noticed that sweatshirt. It was one that got made special for staff a few years ago.”
Indrid fidgets with the cat-bitten drawstring, “It was Duck’s, wasn’t it?”
“Uh huh. He put that patch on the sleeve. Guess it startled me to see it on someone else.”
“I understand.”
“Knew him since we were kids. Hell, he’s my daughter’s godfather. Still don’t feel right, bein’ here without him.”
Indrid pushes the bear towards her and she pets it.
“What was he like?”
In the empty visitor center, Juno tells him. In her stories are echos of every conversation he’s ever had with anyone who knew Duck. When it’s time to close up, she asks if she can hug him, and thanks him for listening to her.
“Guess you weren’t kiddin about wanting to sleep with a bear” Duck teases as Indrid sets his new purchase inside the tent. Indrid whaps at him, arm going through his torso. The ranger floats nearby as Indrid heats up ravioli and opens a can of Mountain Dew. Indrid tells him about the conversation with Juno.
“Huh, guess that is my old one. Glad someone is gettin some use outta it. And it looks good on you.”
Indrid sets down his bowl, “We talked a lot, Duck. And it made me think about what you said to me one of the night after we met. You said you wanted a chance to make the world, the town, a little better. Everyone I’ve talked to, and I mean every one, has a story about you. How you helped them, how Kepler is worse off with you gone. You did so much, even with your time cut short. I, I wanted you to know that.”
The ghost looks away, “I wasn’t done tryin to help.”
“You still aren’t. You do what you can to keep the forest and the visitors safe. And you, you’ve made my life immeasurably better Duck. Seeing you is the best part of my day and I think I’m falling--ah, that is, you’re not done making a difference.”
Duck hasn’t moved since Indrid started talking about his feelings. When Indrid tries to meet his eyes, he disappears. Hurried, he reaches out to offer a reassuring touch and gets only air.
“Duck?”
Nothing, even after he calls his name three more times.
He slumps onto the bench, “well, fuck me I guess.”
---------------------------------------------------
This is a terrible idea. But it’s his last, and therefore his best.
Indrid even asked Barclay’s boyfriend, Joseph, if anything in his impressive library of the paranormal advised the reader on dealing with upset ghosts. A few did, always from the perspective of trying to get the specter to go away. They said nothing about what to do if your upset ghost was missing, leaving an ache in your heart you didn’t know you were capable of feeling.
Instead, after a week of silence, Indrid changes tactics: if he can’t coax Duck back, maybe he can annoy him into appearing.
Tonight, he finishes dinner and cleans his dishes, puts the bulk of the food in the bear box, and then tears open a bag of chips, scattering them across the table. He eats one, then leaves the open bag laying amongst the potato shards.
Next, he dumps his remaining water on the fire, which takes it down to embers but does not extinguish it. When none of that gets a reaction, he decides to narrate.
“Hmm, that should be fine, it’s not that dry and I don’t think sparks can go over the edge.”
“Should I leave these juice pouches out? Yes, I think I should, in case I get thirsty at night. Maybe I’ll take one into the tent, just to be safe.”
He already feels silly and like no one is listening, and so he escalates.
“I know I shouldn’t leave food out for the wildlife, but since there’s no handsome, ghostly ranger here to punish me for my transgressions, I am just going to leave some nuts out for the raccoons. I like raccoons. They deserve nice things. Hell, how about I just leave them a whole buffet since no one is stopping me!”
All he gets in reply are the few bugs awake this early in the spring and the crack of brush as a small mammal runs away from the weird bipedal thing yelling at his camp fire. He doesn’t leave out food for the raccoons; he climbs into his tent in a huff. What a bad idea, to think this of all things would bring Duck back to him. He’s being childish and bratty and selfish; Duck doesn’t deserve that, no more than he owes Indrid his company.
He changes into his pajamas pants and sleep shirt, intending to go back out to make the site safe and tidy. Except.
Except something just opened the bear box. The chip bag crinkles and the fire hisses out a minute later. He should be running outside to apologize, but his mind has simultaneously registered the full darkness of the night , the possibility that Duck is not the only paranormal thing in these woods, and the fact the nearest other campers are on the other side of the campground, meaning he is very, very alone.
The zipper on the tent moves, the flap falling open so his lantern shines on nothing but April air.
“Duck? Please say that’s you.”
A low chuckle, “It’s me, ‘Drid.” The fly zips shut, “mighty peeved about that trick you pulled.”
“I’m, I’m sorry. I missed you, but that was a bad way to communicate that.” He can’t see him, and the lantern only picks up the odd shift of sleeping bag or tent floor, so Indrid’s eyes’ dart about trying to pinpoint him.
“Oh, you communicated plenty, sugar. Like what you want a certain, uh, ghostly ranger to do to you.”
“Oh god” he winces, “please, forget I said that, it’s humiliating.”
“Not all that surprisin, truth be told. I mean, you and I flirted now and then. And you told me enough about yourself for me to suspect that you’re a kinky little weirdo who’s dyin to get fucked by a ghost.”
“I, I feel I should point out that I only want to fuck one ghost. You. I want to fuck you and that means fucking a ghoOOOst.” He gasps as cold lips press into his neck.
“I can make that happen, darlin, all you gotta do is say it. You were a pain in the neck earlier, so now I expect you to be real polite and use your words.” Duck’s voice has never been like this before, rough and possessive yet still, under all of it, the same warmth draws Indrid in like a flame.
“I want you, Duck.”
A bite to his ear, strong arms wrapping around his waist from behind him, “Want me to do what?”
“Fuck me” this is like every wet dream he had as a teenager, the supernatural being coming for a fellow outsider.
That gets him a tender kiss on the cheek, “That’s better. Though, if I’m rememberin correctly, word you used was punish.”
Indrid yelps as Duck turns and shoves him to lay across his lap, kicks his legs out in surprise when his waistband slides down to his upper thighs.
“Yesss” he wiggles his ass as Duck palms it, “yes, Duck, pleaseAHgod” the first strike stings, and Duck doesn’t let him recover before delivering five more, three to each side. His cock perks up at the pain. Stranger still, because Duck is invisible, all Indrid has to do is tilt his head to watch it harden and twitch with each slap.
Twenty strikes later Duck pauses, hand rubbing soothing, cool circles on the burning skin, “Learned your lesson?”
“Mmhmm.” Indrid presses an awkward kiss to Duck’s knee.
“Glad to hear it.” Duck hauls him up onto his knees, slides a hand under his shirt and up his chest, “I’m rarin’ to feel more of you--holy fuck”
“AH!” Indrid arches as Duck toys with his left nipple piercing, his other hand quickly finding the right.
“God, fuck, you’re fuckin hot, if I were alive I woulda taken you home first time I saw you.” Messy kisses cover his neck as Duck tugs the piercings.
“Gaahnnyes, that’s, that’s very flattering.”
“Ain’t flattery, sugar, it’s the truth. Never could turn down some skinny punk with piercin’s and messy hair, not when I was a teen burnout hidin in the woods and sure as hell not now.” He moves Indrid onto his back, rucking up his shirt as his legs twist in his half-down pants. The ranger cups his face, and Indrid is positive he’s meeting his eyes, “tell me what you want sugar, tell me so I can treat you right.”
“Marks, I want marks anywhere you’ll give them.”
A growl from above him, then lips smashing into his, drinking him in before continuing down his throat, biting and sucking hard enough that he cries out every time. Duck pauses, teasing his nipples with his tongue as he rakes his nails up his sides. He sits up and for a horrible moment Indrid loses him. Then with glee he watches five red marks drag down his chest. He moans, rolling his hips and discovering just how closer Duck’s clothed cock is to his own. The contact only feeds the rangers eagerness, and Indrid is tosses and turns as he sucks, bites, and scratches, laying claim to the illustrated expanse of his body.
“More, please, god that all feels so good.”
“Don’t worry darlin, still got plenty of you to mark up, but we’re gonna do somethin else while I do.” He eases Indrid onto his stomach, slaps his ass fondly, “don’t go nowhere.”
Indrid’s duffel bag unzips, clothes and pens moved aside until a bottle of lube hovers in the air. The tube compresses and drips coat the rough outline of fingers. When the two digits press into him he sighs, eyes closing as he melts under Ducks watchful eyes.
“That’s it ‘Drid, relax for me. Got well over a year of horny to work out, so this cute ass needs to be ready to take it.”
Indrid pushes his hips back in reply, taking as far as the fingers will go and whimpering excitedly when he presses in the tip of the third. Duck works that one more carefully, kissing Indrid’s face and shoulders as he whispers about how good he is, how much he’s wanted this.
“I want it too so for, for goodness sake please fuck me soon or I’ll leave my entire cooler out for the bears.”
“Only one bear in this campsite tonight darlin.” Duck laves his tongue down the base of his spine, bites down hard on his ass. Indrid’s still moaning from the pain when his cock pushes in.
“Fuuuckme that’s good. Shoulda snuck into your tent sooner, sugar, made you a fuckin cocksleeve you feel so fuckin good.”
“Ohgod” is all Indrid, voice muffled by the sleeping bag he’s biting, manages before Duck adjusts them so Indrid is on his knees. The ranger isn’t gentle, pounds into him like he’s nothing but a warm hole and chuckles whenever Indrid moans.
“H-handprints, Duck, want hand prints GAHyesyesyes” he struggles to move in time with the ghost as the air fills with ear-splitting slaps. He’s so close, the pain and the sensation of phantom fingers claiming his body making his body beg for release. When he slides a hand down to jerk himself off, the arm twists up and stays trapped against his back.
“You wanna cum, you know what to do.”
He blinks away the ecstatic tears, words raw in his throat, “Please let me cum, Duck. I want to, need to cum while you fuck me pleaseplease-” he cuts off into whine as the ghost works his cock hard, all the while jamming into him hard enough that the smooth fabric of the sleeping bag burns his knees. When he cums it’s with a weak cry of Duck’s name, which is swallowed up by hungry lips as Duck kisses him over and over, repeating Indrid’s name like an incantation as he pumps his hips and cums, pulling out as he does so it splatters on the reddened patches of his ass.
A final kiss to the top of his head, and then there’s no contact between them and the zipper is moving.
“Oh no you don’t” Indrid scrambles, sweaty and exhausted, between the tent fly and the invisible man somewhere in front of him, “for goodness sake, Duck, I thought you liked me enough to at least let me fall asleep before you ran.”
The ranger finally appears, hair a mess and cheeks noticeably pink, “‘Drid, all that was amazing, but it’s all I can give you. I, I can’t...you said you were fallin for me and I can’t give you that.”
Indrid cocks his head, “Why not?”
“Because I’m a fuckin ghost, ‘Drid! You deserve to be with a livin’ fella, you deserve someone who can be a real part of your life.”
He crosses his arms, “Duck, you are a real part of my life. Honestly, what part of all the nights we spent together, all the ways we take care of each other, all of this” he points at the rumpled sleeping bag, “suggests otherwise?”
The ghost doesn’t speak, simply hugs himself (or tries to).
“If this is too much, if I’m offering something you do not want, then please tell me. But if this is you thinking that some paranormal quirks keep you from being a worthy partner for me, kindly think again.”
Duck disappears and Indrid is gearing up to try and tackle a supernatural entity when a familiar face buries itself in the crook of his neck. The ghost clings to him, and Indrid clings right back.
“You really wanna give it a go?”
“More than anything.”
Duck lifts his head so their cheeks rest together, “Then fuck it. Let’s see what happens.”
----------------------------------------
Indrid finishes hooking up his lightly used Winnebago, AKA his solution to the lack of available apartments. He’s in a different section of Eastwoods, but he’s happy with his new spot. He opens one of his few boxes, gently lifts the completed model ship into a place of honor, and waits, humming happily, for an unseen hand to knock on his door.
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Zombie Bites
☼ Pairing: Yoongi x reader
☼ Genre: college!au, f2l, light angst, fluff, smut
☼ Count: 13.2K
☼ Warnings: alcohol consumption, unprotected sex, teasing, biting, marking, messy sex (look you fuck him in zombie makeup, of course its gonna be a little messy), blood? (its fake but like, it’s still there and described)
☼ Summary: Your friends have always been willing to assist you when you need a model to practice makeup on. And with the upcoming zombie film on campus is no difference. But something feels different this time, can a zombie movie be more than just a zombie movie?
☼ a/n: Adkjsdfgdf this was supposed to be for Yoongi’s birthday and I’m clearly a little late! But, it’s here! Let me know what you think! My ask box is always open ~ 💙💙💙💙
You kick the door, hands too full to even attempt shifting things so you could properly knock and if your hands were free enough to knock, then you’d just open the door yourself. You hope at least one of them is home, you really don’t want to have to carry all of this back home. Although you know Taehyung should be home and he lives nearby so you can always go there if this falls through. You know Yoongi should be home though, he doesn’t have classes today, but you can never account for his personal schedule for the studio. Primarily because it doesn’t exist and Yoongi goes when Yoongi feels like. You’re fairly certain Jin has a rehearsal today, but you can’t quite remember. You’re hoping to catch Yoongi anyway. You enjoy practicing on Jin, or any of your friends, their willingness to always let you do whatever to their faces makes you so grateful to have met them.
Yoongi and Jin were the first ones you met. You and Yoongi met in your stagecraft class freshman year. You both were hopelessly lost. Although you suspect Yoongi was more so, given that he is more involved in sound. Jin once told you later how late Yoongi would stay up researching so that he could help you in class and when you would meet to study together. As for you and Jin, you shared a beginner film class, being forced to pair up for a project but finding that you worked remarkably well together, each of your passions melding well.
You discovered they knew each other already when you went to Yoongi’s dorm one night to study and Jin answered the door. From there, Jimin, Taehyung, Hoseok, Namjoon, and Jungkook all slowly joined through shared classes and mutual friends. Now you’re in your senior year with a tight knit group of friends who you’d do anything for and who would do anything for you in return. Like right now, when you desperately need a model to practice on.
And while you love your friends, Yoongi is your favorite to practice on. And that’s only partially because you may or may not be also crushing on your best friend a little bit. But it’s hard not to fall for Yoongi. For all that he acts like a tough guy in all black and leather jackets, he’s the sweetest. He’s brought you food and coffee when you’re spending long hours in the art studio working and you do the same for him. Even his teasing towards you is sweet, it’s only sometimes upsetting because it’s exactly how a guy might tease his younger sister.
But beyond that, Yoongi’s the most patient. Taking the hours they sometimes have to spend in the chair in stride and not shifting in the slightest. Hoseok’s the worst at it, he enjoys talking too much and is animated when he does so. You keep shorter projects for him. Hoseok’s face suits subtle makeup more anyway. You’re really not sure why you want to make Yoongi look beat up. Well you do know why, but you’re choosing not to think about that reason.
It takes a few moments after your knock for the door to be opened, revealing a slightly disheveled Yoongi, which means you’ve woken him up from a nap. He’s going to be a little harder to convince if you just woke him up. It looks like he’s been at the studio all night again. His eyes narrow at you like he knew it was you, before his gaze trails down to the bag of food in one hand and your makeup case in the other.
He groans, but steps back anyway to allow you to enter. You count it as a win that he doesn’t slam the door in your face. Not that it’d do much, all of you have keys to each other’s places. Namjoon just lamented the other week, when he’d once again lost his set of keys, meaning everyone had to get new copies for him, why all of you don’t just live together. Jin suggested the better option was just to not give Namjoon keys.
“I brought lamb skewers.” You pipe up before he has a chance to say anything. He eyes you suspiciously for a moment as you set everything down on the table. You turn to him with a hopeful smile. “Where’s Jin?”
Yoongi ignores you in favor of digging a skewer out to munch on before deeming you worthy of an answer. “Apparently smart enough to not be here when you come by looking for a guinea pig.” He says around a mouthful.
You pout, wringing your hands for extra effect. “Do you guys really find it a bother?” You look down, you know Yoongi doesn’t like seeing you sad. “I can just post some fliers around if you don’t want to do it.”
You hear Yoongi huff then his arm is wrapping around you. It gives you the perfect way to hide your victorious grin. He’s a little too predictable.
“What are we doing today? Please no glitter. Jimin is still shedding it from last week.”
You giggle, moving to open your case and sort through the makeup you brought with you today. “Jimin was the prettiest fairy, thank you very much. And he wanted the glitter for the video. Have you not seen it? It’s… stunning.” You wave the thought off. “But no, no glitter for you. You get this instead.” You turn and hold up a bottle of fake blood. “I need to practice my horror and gore type stuff. We have a short film project in a few weeks and I have never done a full zombie before. Plus it’ll help me round out my portfolio.” You grin conspiratorially with him. “Plus, I figured we could prank the others.”
He lets out a put upon sigh, but you can see the grin he’s trying to hide. You know he’s always down to fuck with the others, the perks of such an artsy school giving you the ability to do so frequently in creative ways. “Okay, fine. What do you need me to do?”
You tug the white shirt you’d bought and hold it out to him. “Put this on first.”
He looks like he has something to say but just shrugs and does as you ask. He tugs his current shirt off and you try your best not to stare. Jimin was shirtless in front of you last week for hours for his fairy makeup and you were completely unphased by it, something you know that many people on campus would boggle at the fact that you had that in front of you and did nothing. Yet Yoongi is just changing his shirt, something you’ve seen plenty of times over the course of your friendship. All of your friends have seen everyone else in the midst of dressing for one thing or another, you’re all comfortable with each other. And with many of your degrees being what they are, you have to be comfortable with people in varying states of dress. But with Yoongi, this time, it’s a little hard to remind yourself that you’re friends and this is for practice. Something about the end of senior year drawing so near makes every moment with Yoongi feel slightly different. A little more charged than before.
Once he’s got the new shirt on, you grab a pair of scissors and the front of his shirt with your other hand so that you can pull it away from his skin.
Yoongi jerks backwards at the sight of the sharp object so close to his chest. “Woah! I thought this was supposed to be fake!”
You roll your eyes, tugging him back towards you. He goes with no resistance, despite his vocal protests. “I’m cutting the shirt, dumby. Not you.”
He pouts at the name. “Well how should I know that?”
You give him a flat look, does he really think you’d use scissors on him? “You think if I wanted to hurt you that I would lug all of my makeup over here to do it?” You glance at the open container of food, grinning evilly. “Besides, if I really wanted to hurt you, I’d go for your precious skewers.”
Yoongi gasps with horror and you really hope it’s fake horror. With him and Jungkook though, there’s a very real possibility that they would react this way and be completely serious. No one should be that theatrical over some lamb on a stick. “How dare you.”
You pluck a skewer from his protective hold and bite into it. “I said if. You think I’m gonna just get rid of my best model?”
“You’re just saying that so I don’t kick you out.” He grumbles, reluctantly setting the container back down like he’s scared that you’ll do something to it, but not before eating one more.
You murmur a quiet ‘uh huh’, finally making a few cuts to the shirt and ripping them a little more with your hands to make it look more natural. You scrutinize it for a moment, maybe also taking the opportunity to admire the way Yoongi’s chest stretches the fabric and the glimpses of skin you get through the rips. Maybe you should’ve had Yoongi doing more full body stuff for you. You nod your approval to the shirt and pull out a brush and small jar filled with a dark brown powder. Yoongi watches you curiously as you open it and start to add streaks of it to his shirt to dirty it.
“Is this supposed to be dirt?” He questions in disbelief. You nod distractedly as you continue to focus and you miss the face Yoongi makes. “Did you buy that? You know there’s dirt outside right?”
You finish, giving Yoongi an unimpressed look. If he really thought he was about to question how you do your job then maybe you should’ve used the scissors on him. “Do you want to go roll around in the dirt?” Your half tempted to make him go do it if he’s going to be a stickler for realism. You hold back a laugh when he shakes his head quickly, eyes wide cause he knows that you’ll follow through. “Then don’t question my fake dirt, brat.” You tap his nose with the brush, leaving a small splotch behind. You gesture to the stool nearby, the one that’s become the de facto makeup chair here. “Sit please.”
Yoongi does so as you gather up the few things you decide to use for this practice run. You don’t want to go too crazy for practice, especially if this is to be believable. Plus, you don’t have to do just zombie work, you’ve got to do the human too. So this is the perfect time to try that. You begin to work, falling into a companionable silence. Yoongi always stays quiet, eyes tracing your face as you work. Namjoon always questions what you’re using and doing, always wants to learn, even if he’s not particularly good at it. They all question, even Yoongi, but they usually wait until after you’ve finished to ask about something.
You step back, head tilted as you trace over Yoongi’s features, now dirtier, faint bruises adorning his cheek and jaw, along with a scraped cheek and temple and a split lip.
Yoongi speaks up while you inspect your work. “I thought you said zombie?” He looks adorably confused, so at odds with the beaten look he’s currently sporting.
You nod absently, picking the bruise wheel and sponge back up and adding more detailing around his eyes. Yoongi obediently closes his eyes without being told. You could kiss him, he’s the only one you never have to remind to do this, reading you and your movements more than well enough to anticipate what you need him to do. It’s definitely part of why he’s your favorite model. “I did. But I’m doing both the zombies and the human so I need to practice this too. And we have plans tonight and zombie makeup will take too long. I’d practice on Jin but I’m gonna have to do this on him enough for shooting.”
Yoongi peeks an eye open to look at you. “Jin’s working on this too?”
You switch your wheel and sponge out for a brush and the bottle of fake blood, thick enough to make small cuts and drips without spreading out past where you want it. “Yeah. I got the project first.” You pause and roll your eyes, memories of Jin begging you to do his makeup for his audition. There may have been a promise of all the alcohol you could drink, one that you definitely took him up on. “And I’m pretty sure he would’ve gotten the part regardless. But he wanted makeup like this done for his audition. Said he wanted to go in in character already and he wanted them to be able to see how he’d look in the role. That’s why I know I need to practice this. It was good enough for just a simple audition, but it’ll need to be perfect for the shoot.”
You add a few drips of blood to the shirt and step away again. “I’m actually surprised that you don’t know about this already. It’s a big collaboration between a bunch of the departments. I’m pretty sure Tae and Kook are doin camera stuff. And music definitely seems like an important part to include.”
Yoongi shrugs, a small lift of his shoulders so he doesn’t move too much for you. “We usually don’t hear about projects until later. We’re not as needed for earlier parts. If it’s starting soon, we’ll probably be told soon then.”
You close the cap on the blood, admiring your work with a pleased grin. You knew he’d look good a little roughed up. He looks every bit the bad boy he pretends to be, you just need to convince him to wear his leather jacket too. That’ll complete the look. “It’d be cool to work on a project together within our disciplines. I don’t think we’ve done that yet.” You laugh. “Imagine it, our names on the big screen together.” You sigh a little wistfully, it might be the only way your names are up somewhere together.
You miss the curious look Yoongi gives you at your sigh. “Yeah, too bad Jin’s name will be first. And bigger. We’ll just be tucked down at the end where everyone stops paying attention or leaves.”
You nudge his shoulder playfully. “I pay attention.”
He smiles softly at you as you begin to clean up. “I know you do.”
You finish cleaning quickly, you didn’t use that much to begin with and tug your phone out and grin. “Your favorite part. Picture time.”
Yoongi groans, foot kicking out in a show of protest. “Do I at least get to see what you’ve done to me first?”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics but flip the front facing camera on and hand your phone to him. His eyes widen briefly when he finally sees himself. He turns his face, looking at it from different angles, a low ‘wow’ escaping him as he gingerly prods a bruise like it will actually hurt if he touches it. He grins as he hands the phone back.
“Excellent work as always.”
You feel yourself grow warm, hiding your pleased smile behind your phone as you direct Yoongi’s poses so you can get shots to work from for final ideas for the film. You tuck your phone away once you're done.
“Great let’s go. I think everyone else should be at Tae, Jimin and Jungkook’s by now.”
You grab Yoongi’s hand before he can enter the apartment, you can hear the others already inside. He turns to you with a questioning look but you ignore it as you make a few last second adjustments, fixing his hat and brushing the shoulders of his leather jacket before giving a satisfied nod. He ruffles your hair and you swat at his hand as you dart around him to enter.
Your appearance is met with gasps and Jimin is quickly hurrying over, completely ignoring you in favor of Yoongi, hands hovering like he’s scared to hurt him more. “Are you okay?! Oh my god, you shouldn’t be walking, come sit down.”
You bite your lip as Jimin ushers Yoongi to the couch, watching as the others flock to him as well, all throwing questions at him at once. You notice Jin in the kitchen doorway and he smirks at you, clearly knowing exactly what’s going on, but he seems more than willing to keep quiet in favor of whatever your plan is. You don’t know how long to let this go on, but it’s too funny to watch. Yoongi actually looks a little flustered and it makes the scene all the more adorable to watch.
“Who did this!” Jungkook pushes Jimin aside and squishes Yoongi’s cheeks, looking imploringly into his eyes. “Please tell me you remember, I’ll beat them up for you.”
Taehyung swats at his arm. “You’re gonna hurt him more idiot, let go.”
He does so instantly, wide eyes glued to the tacky blood that’s transferred to his hand.
Yoongi chuckles. “If you’re gonna beat them up, my money’s on her winning.” He grins and something about it makes him look cocky and cocky is an oddly good look on him right now and you almost missed what he says completely.
They all look at him, varying degrees of confusion on their faces. “Her?” Namjoon presses.
Yoongi nods and gestures towards you, smirk still in place. “Yeah, she’s the one who did this to me.”
The three youngest look at you warily, Jungkook looks a little like he wants to take back what he said about beating up whoever did that to Yoongi. Namjoon’s eyes narrow, he’s too smart sometimes. “It’s makeup, isn’t it?”
You grin, giving a small shrug. “Guilty as charged.”
Hoseok appears at your side, puppy eyes in full effect. “That’s so mean to do to us. We were worried about him. You know he can’t fight.”
Yoongi protests with a weak hey, batting Jungkook’s hands away as he prods at the makeup with glee now that he knows it’s safe to touch. You feel like they misjudge Yoongi a little. Yoongi could definitely hold his own in a fight if he needed to. You remember very well watching him work with sets during your stagecraft class. You maybe almost ruined a few things by getting distracted watching him work. It’s definitely where your crush began, you’ve always been a sucker for watching a guy work up a sweat.
You smile and pull Hoseok into a hug. “I’m sorry, Hobi. I needed practice and it seemed like a waste that no one else got to see it.”
Hoseok’s arm wraps around your neck as he quickly turns your hug into a headlock, rubbing your head as you squirm. “Hobi, stop!” you giggle, prying ineffectually at his arm. “I give! I give! I’m sorry!”
Hoseok gives one last rub before releasing you, smug smile in place as you pout at him and attempt to fix the mess he’s created of your hair, not that it matters. The boys have seen you after all nighters and hungover, mussed hair is nothing in comparison.
Jin finally pushes himself off the doorway with a clap to grab everyone’s attention. “Right, now that that’s over with, are we ready to celebrate this project?”
Your days quickly grow busy, full of planning meetings and brainstorming sessions. You have little time to practice between classes, the meetings, and research. Although some of the research devolves into group binges of various zombie movies, all of you claiming it’s in the name of preparing for your various upcoming roles. But you know part of it is because you're all getting too busy to hang out as a group and if you can at least claim to be researching for the shoot as well. Hoseok hates the binges the most, he’s never been great with horror but the others have fun with it, picking the movie apart by the different aspects that they’re interested in. You get too wrapped up in inspecting the makeup that you don’t even really realize what most of the plots are or what the others do.
Yoongi offers to watch them all again with you, all in the name of research of course. He does it a couple of times, sacrificing sleep and time to work on other projects to stay up late watching zombie movies on your’s or his couch. He even points out ideas for you and pauses the movie when you start talking about a technique on screen, watching you with a fond smile.
Now you finally have some free time and you’ve been thinking about what you want to practice all week, all the ideas and plans you’ve created after your film viewings. You’ve just got the difficult task of finding out which boy is free and you luck out and find Jin and Hoseok together. Jin groans the second you enter the apartment and he catches sight of your case.
“I’m too pretty to be a zombie,” he whines.
You roll your eyes. You’d normally fight him on it, but with Hoseok here too, you decide to let it slide this once. “That’s fine. I can practice your makeup for the film and see how it will look with a zombie.” You turn to Hoseok with pleading eyes. “As long as I have a zombie.”
Hoseok looks like he wants to protest, glancing at the books in front of him, but he gives in with a sigh rather quickly. “Yeah, I suppose I could use a break.”
You give a small cheer. “Thank you! Dinner’s on me then.” You look over the two of them before deciding to give them the choice. “Who wants to go first?”
Jin jumps up. “Me, if I read anything else about camera techniques I think my brain might melt.”
He quickly settles into the chair, letting you get to work. His makeup is simple, you do much of what you practiced on Yoongi with a few modifications you’d decided on while doing research during the week. Jin and Hoseok chatter with each other while you work, you occasionally add things to the conversation when you happen to catch what’s being talked about, but much of your focus is on your work.
Once finished, you look him over before nodding happily. You pull your phone out to get a few solo shots, something he takes great joy in making difficult for you by posing in over exaggerated ways. You finally shoo him away and Hoseok replaces him and you purse your lips, tugging at his shirt.
“Lose this. I need your neck.”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow, tugging his shirt off. “If you wanted me naked so badly, Y/n, you could’ve just asked. I’m sure we can ask Jin to give us some time alone.” He winks.
You snort, about to respond that you just don’t want to hear him complain about his shirt being ruined but before you can say anything Jin’s answering. “She doesn’t care about you being shirtless. There’s only one of us she would care to have shirtless in front of her.”
Your cheeks heat and you glare at Jin. You never should’ve gone drinking with him and you should’ve known he was doing it just to pry information out of you. Wanted his makeup to look authentic for the audition, my ass. “Shut the fuck up, asshole.”
Hoseok perks up, looking at Jin. “She likes someone? One of us? Who?”
“No one.” You cut in, tugging his chin back so he’s facing you and quickly starting your work on his face. It’s incredibly hard to work around the shiteating grin on Hoseok’s face. You maybe blend some spots a little harder than necessary if the way Hoseok occasionally winces is anything to go by.
“Oh, she does. She told me herself. Rambled on about how nice he smells and how he takes care of her. Waxed poetic about how she wishes she got to see him shirtless more often because she just knows that he looks good shirtless.” He waggles his eyebrows.
You point the brush in your hand menacingly at Jin, you wonder if anyone would believe it was justified. “If you don’t shut up, you won’t have to wear makeup for the shoot.”
Jin looks at the brush, completely nonplussed. “You wouldn’t dare when I live in such close proximity to a certain someone.” He singsongs. “And gosh, I just say such crazy things when I’m studying and sleep deprived, ya know?”
Your eyes widen, heart in your throat. Hoseok looks confused for a moment before you see the lightbulb go off and he grins too. “You like Yoo-”
You slap your hand over his mouth. This is so not happening right now, this is just a bad dream. Fueled by far too many zombie movies this week. You’ll wake up and be in your own bed and Jin and Hoseok won’t be teasing you about liking Yoongi. “Shut up, I don’t like anyone.” You hiss.
You feel his grin so you squeeze his cheeks, shaking him just slightly. “Say it. Say, ‘you don’t like anyone’.”
He’s about to respond and you can just tell by the glint in his eye that he’s not going to repeat what you told him to say, but the sound of the door opening takes everyone’s attention and you look up, blinking owlishly when you see Yoongi enter. He quirks an eyebrow when he sees you squeezing Hoseok’s cheeks and you quickly jerk your hand away. You’d really like to disappear now. It would’ve been bad enough to be here with Jin when Yoongi got home and now he’s got backup with Hoseok. You’re going to die of embarrassment by the end of the night, you just know it.
You quickly busy yourself with getting back to work on Hoseok, absolutely ignoring the delight in his eyes at Yoongi’s sudden appearance.
“Hey Yoongi, what’re you doing home already?” He calls and you wonder if anyone would believe you if you said the brush just slipped and poked him in the eye. It’s happened before.
Yoongi wonders over to the three of you, inspecting your work on Hoseok so far. “Apparently studying at the coffee shop was code for date? And I didn’t know that?” He says offhandedly.
You feel your heart stop. “You went on a date?” You blurt out before you can think better. That was supposed to just be a thought, you didn’t mean to say it out loud. You wish you could take the words back, especially when you see the way Jin’s eyes light up at your slip.
Yoongi nods, turning to look over Jin’s makeup next. He still looks like this conversation isn’t that important to him. “Yeah, Seulgi asked if I wanted to study for our class together at the coffee shop. Apparently I missed the memo that said it was actually a date.”
You swallow, studiously staying focused on Hoseok, tilting his head slightly so you can begin to create a bite mark on his neck. You don’t want to hear anymore of this conversation, you’re already really close to crying. Yoongi says something about needing to shower and meanders away. Hoseok must notice the glassiness of your eyes because he reaches out to give your thigh a reassuring squeeze. You give him a pained smile and continue to work.
Jin’s about to say something but you shake your head. “Don’t. Please.”
He remains quiet, letting you finish Hoseok’s makeup in silence. You’re incredibly grateful. For all that Jin can be a little shit, he still does care about his friends. You finish quickly, getting some solo shots and then getting some reference photos of the two of them together. They take great joy in being over the top once you get the base photos you need, posing and acting out silly scenes in full makeup. You snap pictures the whole time, you don’t need them for reference but they do manage to bring a smile back to your face and make you momentarily forget about Yoongi and his date.
You scroll through the photos, checking them out when you gesture towards the bathroom. “You guys can go wash up and we can go grab something to eat.”
You don’t see the devious grin Jin sends Hoseok. “Hmm, I don’t feel like going out. Let’s just order something. I’ll see if Yoongi wants anything.” You can only watch in horror as Jin calls for Yoongi down the hall. Yoongi reenters, hair still wet and looking cozy in sweats and a tshirt. “Y/n’s buying dinner. You hungry?”
Yoongi glances at you and you busy yourself with cleaning up. “Sure, I’ll always eat if it’s free.” He grins.
“Freeloader.” You grumble, turning to him with your hands on your hips. “You didn’t even do anything.”
Yoongi raises an eyebrow challengingly. He looks from Jin to Hoseok and grins, then he tugs his shirt off and nudges Hoseok out of the seat to sit himself in front of you. His grin turns smug. “There, you can do some more practice.”
Your mouth opens and closes a few times, but you’re at a complete loss for words. Your gaze flits over his bare chest before quickly darting away, Jin’s words from earlier coming back to haunt you, only this time with Yoongi’s actual bare chest. You’ve still got nothing to say and you can hear Hoseok and Jin snickering over your dilemma. It’s not like you can tell him no, he’d only get suspicious. Yoongi knows you never turn down a chance to practice, especially if you have something as big as a film shoot coming up.
You take a deep breath, you can do this. You can totally be professional. You’ve worked on a bunch of shirtless people. You’ve worked on Jimin and Jungkook. This is nothing. It’s just Yoongi. You straighten and roll your eyes at him. “Any other time I want to practice and you’re too busy.”
He beams at you, clearly thrilled that he’s won. “Yeah, but you’re buying dinner so...” He shrugs nonchalantly.
You stick your tongue out him and turn back to your makeup case, pulling your tools back out. You start your work, gently tilting Yoongi’s head so you can create a bite mark on his shoulder. His skin is soft and the smell of his body wash is overwhelming this close.
Just as you’re applying the base outline in latex, Jin speaks up. “How’d the date go, Yoongs?”
You jerk to glare at Jin, inadvertently dripping latex down Yoongi’s chest. You blink as it begins to slowly make its way down his chest, glancing up to see Yoongi giving you a worried look. You ignore him, turning back to the mess you made, forcing yourself into work mode and thinking about how you’re going to fix this mess because all you can do is try to fix it to make it seem like you did it on purpose. The only thing you can think to make this work without ripping all the latex off is to turn the bite into a bite that ripped skin off too. With a loose plan in mind, you begin adding more latex to his chest, creating a rough outline for the torn flesh, different scenes from zombie movies flitting through your mind as you use their looks as guidance.
Yoongi surprises you by actually responding to Jin once he decides you’re okay and have begun working again. “It was awkward as fuck because I didn’t know it was a date. I mean, who asks someone on a date under the guise of studying?” he snorts though he’s clearly not amused by the situation.
“A lot of people, Yoongi. A lot,” Jin laughs. “That’s like, the primary way people ask others out if they share a class. It’s all, hey let’s go study and then no studying happens.”
You can see the way Yoongi wants to move in response, the muscles under your fingers twitching and you appreciate that he is at least still restrained physically even if his mouth continues to run. “That’s dumb. I just wanted to study.”
Jin makes a noise of surprise. “What do you mean?”
Yoongi shifts and you sneak a peek at his face, noting the way his cheeks are beginning to turn red. “I just… Well I mean- Look, she’s just not someone I’m interested in that way.” He eventually stutters out, his eyes shifting to you before quickly jerking away to stare at the wall behind you.
You can hear the smugness in Hoseok’s voice when he speaks. “Oh?” he asks, full of faux curiosity. “And just who are you interested in? Do we know her?”
Yoongi splutters. “I- What? I- I’m not interested in anyone right now.” No one seems to believe him, even as much as you don’t want it to be true, that’s the weakest denial you’ve ever heard from him. You are a little curious to who caught his interest. He’s had girlfriends in the time you’ve known him, but you’ve never been able to pin down what they had in common to catch his interest. “Look I’m too busy anyway. I’ve got my classes and now the soundtrack for this to work on. I don’t have time for that.”
You stand up, effectively blocking his view of the others. “You got the soundtrack job?” you ask incredulously. Why hadn’t he told you?
Yoongi smiles sheepishly at you, clearly knowing this was coming. “I found out yesterday. I was actually going to probably come by your place and tell you tonight, but you ended up being here anyway. Surprise?”
You pinch his cheek, you knew he’d be asked to work on the soundtrack.. “That’s so awesome! I knew you’d get it!” You beam, you resist the urge to hug him and ruin the work you’ve done so far. You make sure to get him extra to celebrate later and lean back down to get back to work, adding offhandedly. “You know, if you’d just said that beforehand, I would’ve offered to get you dinner without the need to let me practice on you.”
Yoongi whines. “Not fair.”
You finish the rest of Yoongi’s makeup in relative peace. Jin spends half the time trying to pester Yoongi into spilling who he’s interested in and the other part looking through take out places, loudly sharing his opinion on what sounds best, his obvious attempt to get you to order from where he wants. Yoongi resolutely ignores Jin, keeping quiet and still while you work. Hoseok moved back to work on some of his homework, patiently waiting for you to finish so you could get new pictures of them all together, though you do sneak a picture of him while he’s working but the image of a zombie doing homework shirtless is too funny to pass up.
You put a few last details on and look him over. Frowning, you poke at his unmarred pec. “Have you been working out?” His pec looks fuller than it used to, it would also explain why his shirts have been so stretched across his chest lately.
Yoongi flushes, hands coming up to cover his chest in a bid for modesty, as if you hadn’t just spent 45 minutes staring rather intently at it. “So what if I have? What’s wrong with that? Jungkook works out and I don’t hear you giving him a hard time.”
You blink at the outburst for a moment before doubling over with laughter. That certainly wasn’t the response you were expecting, you were mostly just expecting a yes or no. “Oh my god. Do you even listen? We all lovingly tease Jungkook about his muscles.” You wipe away a tear as you straighten back up. “I literally call him my muscle bunny. No one should be that buff and adorable at the same time.”
“Been working out for someone special Yoongs?” Jin teases and you very much don’t like where this is going. “Someone who has perhaps mentioned that they like guys with some firm pecs?”
You both glare at Jin. You know he’s teasing you for what you said while drunk. You assume he’s also still trying to get Yoongi to spill who he likes. You wonder if she also works out at the gym Yoongi goes to and that’s the reason for his newfound interest in working out. You tug your phone back out swiftly, needing the distraction from that train of thought. “Right so pictures.”
You’re incredibly pleased with how Yoongi’s makeup turned out despite the slightly rocky start and almost disaster. There’s definitely still some parts that you need to practice a little more and places to improve, but for essentially having to wing it, it looks really good.
You get new pictures, where they once again pose for goofy ones, forcing a very reluctant Yoongi to participate though once he sees your delighted smile in response to the silliness, he quickly acquiesced to silly pictures. You wait for Jin and Hoseok to go wash their makeup off, tugging on Yoongi’s arm to keep him from following. He looks at you questioningly.
You give his arm a squeeze, momentarily distracted by the way his muscle flexes at your touch. You shake your head slightly and smile at him. “I’m really proud of you for getting the soundtrack.”
Yoongi smiles back, face soft. “Thanks. I really was gonna tell you today.”
You nod. “I know. I’m always the first to know.” You nudge him towards the bathroom. “Go clean up, I’m ordering for your favorite place.”
Yoongi’s face lights up and giving your hand a squeeze, he hurries off down the hall to clean the makeup off.
You practice as much as you can over the next week, using the pictures you take as reference and taking them to meetings to decide what’s good and what needs changed. Jungkook takes particular joy in having you do gore pieces on him now so that he can go scare the others, primarily Jimin because Jimin never fails to get scared. He tried only one time with Yoongi and Yoongi almost punched him in the face out of instinct so he steers clear of him if he happens to be in makeup.
You open the door to Yoongi and Jin’s apartment, calling out an absent minded ‘hi’ like this is your own apartment and you set your makeup case down before collapsing on the couch. Yoongi appears a moment later from his room, eyebrow raised when he sees you sprawled out.
“Last time I checked, you don’t live here.”
You wave him off dismissively, you’re too tired to do more. “Your’s was closer. Be nice to me.” You pout.
Yoongi eyes you over, noticing your case nearby. “More practice?” He pushes your legs out of the way so he can sit.
You shake your head and stretch, throwing your legs across his lap, a pleased grin forming when he lets you. “No, I was helping Joy with a project. Was bigger than planned. Like I said, you were closer.” You shift to stretch again, muscles aching.
Yoongi grabs your ankle to stop your wiggling. “You’re a menace.”
You look him over thoughtfully. “Hm, you don’t seem to particularly care that I’m here. So clearly you don’t really think that. Besides, if any of us are the menace, it’s Jungkook. He’s been a terror this week. I’ve created a monster.” You gasp and sit up, hand against your forehead dramatically. “I’m Frankenstein. How shall I live knowing what I’ve done? Oh the angst, the guilt. Will Jimin survive my creation?”
Yoongi snorts, shoving you back down and you dissolve into giggles. “You should’ve been an actor. I’m pretty sure you could give Jin a run for his money.”
“I’ll take that as a complement. But really, if Jungkook wasn’t doing camera work for the film, he should’ve tried out for one of the zombie roles. He would’ve done great.”
Yoongi nods in agreement. “He would’ve. But I think he would’ve had too much fun climbing all over Jin for the sake of ‘being in character’.”
You hum, closing your eyes. You’re hungry, not having had time to eat while working. You wonder if Yoongi’s eaten yet. If he was in his room then he most likely was working so he probably hasn’t and you wonder how you can get him to buy you dinner. It probably wouldn’t be too difficult, you’re pretty sure you bought last time it was just the two of you.
He gives your ankle a squeeze to get your attention and you peek an eye open to look at him. “You eaten yet?”
“No?” You squint at him, suspicious, but you delight in the fact that he could practically read your mind. Or maybe he just heard your stomach.
He nods, ignoring your suspicious gaze. “Cool, I’ll order us something.” He tugs his phone out to presumably order food without even waiting for a response.
You nudge him with your foot. “You never offer to buy food. I have to pester you usually.”
Yoongi shrugs and sets his phone down, grinning at you. “If you’d like I can just eat all of the food in front of you instead.”
You sit up quickly, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, cheek squished against his shoulder. “Noo, I’m sorry, don’t do that. Thank you for feeding me Yoongi.”
He chuckles, patting your arm where it's nearly strangling him. “Down girl, it’s just dinner.”
You wink at him. “I usually have to dress up and try a lot harder to get someone to buy me dinner.”
Yoongi flushes, slipping out from under your legs to quickly go to the kitchen. “Do you wanna drink? I think I need a drink.”
You tilt your head as you watch him go. Not that it’s particularly odd for you both to drink when you hang out, but his reaction seemed a little out of place. Maybe the score is giving him trouble, he usually will get a drink if music is being difficult. You hope it’s not from the girl he likes. Ever since Jin brought up her existence, it’s been on your mind, wondering what Yoongi’s type was. Briefly wondering what made you not his type. You’re very glad you’ve been so busy that you haven’t had a lot of time to obsess over those thoughts this week. “What do you have?”
Yoongi looks through the cabinets and fridge. “We have a bottle of cheap wine leftover from I think our last wine night. A bottle of nice wine, that I think is Jin’s and he’d probably kill us if we drink it. Aaand some spiced rum.”
“No Jin would kill you if you drink it. He likes me too much to kill me.” Yoongi gives you a look and you just grin back. He knows you’re right, though it’s not that Jin likes you more, you just have dirt on him. The one downside to his plan to get you drunk and ply you for information was that it also left him vulnerable to you getting your own information. “Rum is fine.”
Yoongi busies himself making you both drinks, coming back and handing you yours. You take a sip, coughing at the surprising burn of alcohol.
You raise an eyebrow as you look at him. “Tryin to get me drunk, Yoongs?” you tease.
He flushes, avoiding your eyes and taking a long sip of his drink. “Just made drinks, everyone’s gotta be a critic.” He grumbles.
You reply is interrupted by a knock on the door and Yoongi shoots to his feet to go answer. You take another drink, much more careful now that you know how strong it is, waiting for Yoongi to return with the food. He lays everything out on the table and it takes you a second to register he ordered from your favorite restaurant. You feel giddy, you haven’t gotten to eat here in a while because most of the others don’t care to go there, you usually have to order it on nights when you’re alone.
“You hate this place!” You look at him with wide eyes.
“No I don’t. It’s a good place.” You frown. There’s more to that you can tell, but Yoongi looks like he’s about to run away so you just let it go. You don’t know what’s caused the sudden shift. Although you suppose Yoongi has never explicitly stated that he hated the place, he’s just never spoken up in favor of it when your friends are gathered together and trying to find a place to eat.
You nudge him until he looks at you and you give him a shy smile. “You’re the best. Thank you.” You really don’t know what you’d do without Yoongi in your life.
Yoongi puts something on TV for you both to watch and you eat in relative silence, only making occasional comments on the show. This is what you love most about spending time with Yoongi. It’s easy, the silence between you doesn’t need to be filled. The two of you content to just enjoy each other’s presence.
Yoongi refills your drinks when they run out and you feel the pleasant buzz spreading through you. Yoongi sprawls out on the floor after he finishes his second glass, a good sign of his tipsiness. You stretch out on the couch on your belly, chin propped on the edge to look down at Yoongi. You poke his stomach and he squirms, batting at your hands when it turns from a poke to tickling.
He rolls over, away from you and catches sight of your case. Leaning up on his elbows, he drags it closer and opens it. He looks through it, pulling different things out to inspect before putting them back. He glances at you.
“You should do my makeup.” He decides.
You snort. “No I shouldn’t. It wouldn’t look good.”
Yoongi turns onto his side, head propped up on his hand as he looks you over thoughtfully. “Nothing you do could ever look bad.” He muses and it seems almost like it’s more to himself rather than to you. His eyes alight with mischief and he rests his free hand on his pec. “Ah, I get it. You are just scared to get so close to such perfect pecs again? You’re just intimidated by them. I mean, I understand, how can you work with perfection?”
You blink at him and burst into giggles, you love drunk Yoongi. “Oh, yeah. You caught me. I’m just trying to protect myself from that. I would never survive, I may just faint.”
Yoongi nods, looking like he isn’t fully catching your sarcasm. Although it isn’t completely sarcastic because you don’t think it would be wise to be near his pecs when you’ve been drinking. “It’s okay, I understand.” He tugs his shirt off, flopping back onto his back once again. “Come on, do it. I bet you can’t do something amazing.” He challenges.
And against your better judgement, you rise to his bait. Him lying pliant and shirtless on floor and taunting you is too strong for you to resist. You climb off the couch, settling next to him and pull your makeup closer. You don’t even know what kind of makeup to do. Your case is a mixed mess right now because you had to clean some of your zombie supplies out for things for Joy’s shoot. You think you have enough supplies to do some minor wounds and decide that you can just take the opportunity to practice and maybe use the opportunity to work mostly on his chest and stomach. You just hope you don’t get too distracted while working, you know he’d be insufferably smug about it.
Plan in mind, you begin working, but you don’t get very far in your work before Yoongi starts squirming. You huff, you should’ve known this was a bad idea, Yoongi always grows restless when he’s been drinking unless he’s cuddled up to someone.
You poke him. “Stop moving.”
Yoongi makes a face at you, he looks like a disgruntled toddler. “I’m not.”
You roll your eyes, but get back to work, chalking it up to him just needing to get comfortable. A few minutes later though and he’s shifting again. You give him a warning look and when he moves again you huff in frustration and throw your leg over his waist so you’re now straddling him, effectively holding him still. He blinks up at you with wide eyes for a moment before they darken.
You grin victoriously as he attempts to buck you off. You lose your balance slightly, hand shooting out to rest on his chest to maintain your balance and you giggle when he tries to buck you off again but your grip keeps you upright. He pouts beneath you and you’re about to taunt him further but you’re stopped by the sound of the front door opening. You sit up straight, craning your neck to try and see who’s entered. A moment later, your question is answered when Jin appears, looking just as surprised to see you as you are to see him.
Yoongi chooses that moment to try to buck you off again and your hand tightens as you try to maintain your balance. Jin’s brows furrow in confusion and he makes his way around the couch. The second he sees Yoongi beneath you, he’s turning his back on you both with a noise of disgust.
“Yoongi, what the fuck! I thought we agreed a long time ago that there would be no fucking in the living room!” he yells, arms flailing as he speaks.
Your cheeks heat and you quickly look down, realizing what a compromising position you’re in and how it must’ve looked to Jin. You violently shove yourself off Yoongi’s lap, back hitting the edge of the coffee table and causing you to wince.
“We weren’t doing anything,” you protest.
You know Jin is rolling his eyes, not believing you one bit. “Oh please. I know what I saw.”
“I was just practicing some makeup! Yoongi wouldn’t stop squirming. I was just trying to get him to sit still so I could work.” Your defense sounds weak even to your own ears.
Jin pauses and seems to debate something before hesitantly turning to look at you over his shoulder. His gaze goes from you to Yoongi and the half finished work on his chest to your makeup case and then he throws his head back with a groan. He stomps off to his room, muttering something about not being able to deal with both of your oblivious asses.
You frown, watching him go, perplexed by his words. What were you being oblivious about?
Yoongi taps you to get your attention and you turn back to see his smug grin. He glances pointedly to his chest where when you look, you see that you’ve accidentally smeared purple across his pec when you’d pushed yourself off of him.
“That’s not fair! That doesn’t count because that has extenuating circumstances.” You pout.
Yoongi just shakes his head, clearly deciding that this means he has won his little challenge. Not wanting to go down easy, you turn to your case, looking for one of the glitter creams you’d put in there for Joy’s shoot and before Yoongi can react, you smear it across his other pec.
You laugh in glee as Yoongi belatedly tries to move away and fails. You manage to dart your hand out, smearing more glitter across his cheek. He glares at you before tackling you and wrestling the bottle from your hand. He grins down at you in victory from his perch atop your thighs and he quickly dips a finger into the bottle, swiping it across your cheek. You try to fight him off, but it only succeeds in smearing more glitter on both of you.
You’re both breathless from laughter and the room slowly settles around you as you grin at each other. The glitter on Yoongi’s cheek matches the way his eyes shine and you stare at each other, the moment charged, tension thick. You wonder what he’s thinking and almost in answer, his gaze drops to your lips. Then there’s a bang from somewhere else in the apartment and Yoongi twitches, breaking the trance you both were in. He blinks a few times then slowly slides off of you, replacing the cap on the bottle.
“It’s late,” he murmurs.
You nod but remain on the floor. “Bring me my pillow please?” You jut your bottom lip out, hoping to convince him. You don’t want to move but you also don’t want to be uncomfortable.
He rolls his eyes. “Just come sleep in the bed, stupid. It’s not the first time.”
You chew your lip for a moment, you don’t know how to say that this time feels like it’ll be different. So you don’t say anything, letting yourself be pulled to your feet and following Yoongi to his room. He digs some of your sleep clothes out of a drawer and sets them on the bed beside where you’re sat. He leaves and comes back a moment later with some makeup wipes and a damp cloth, gently wiping you clean of makeup.
You’re stunned into silence, watching him as he works to clean you and you idly wonder if this is what it’s like when you’re doing his makeup. It feels scarily intimate and you don’t know if it’s just this moment or if this is how he always feels, that scares you more. You’re always so focused on your work, you’ve never noticed. He’s close enough that it wouldn’t take much to lean up to kiss.
Your heart is in your throat, you could do it. If it went bad, you could always blame the alcohol, but you're positive that he was about to earlier too. You’re snapped out of it by Yoongi straightening back up, giving you a soft smile.
“I’m going to clean up. I’ll be back.”
You feel startlingly sober after he leaves, changing your clothes mechanically. Once changed you slip into his bed, on your side, and try to think about how you’ve done this enough times that you actually have a side on his bed. But you and the guys all share beds often. This is not any different from those times. Except, it does feel different. You feign sleep when Yoongi re-enters and he moves around quietly to not wake you. He brushes a few strands of hair from your face and presses a kiss to your forehead before turning to go to sleep.
You try to keep from being awkward around Yoongi, the memory of his lips against your skin haunts you, but given the circumstances, you think you mostly manage to be mostly normal. At least normal enough that when you beg him to come to your studio to test the bite prosthetic that you’ve been trying to perfect, he agrees to it easily.
But that seems to be the easiest part. Now, with Yoongi in your campus studio alone, no chance of interruptions, the tension is thick in the air. You know you probably need to talk about the other night, there’s no way Yoongi didn’t feel the shift, doesn’t still feel it as your hands move across his chest, neck, his waist. But you both remain silent. You’re reminded of when Yoongi was washing the makeup off of you and how that closeness felt to you and you wonder if he feels that now. You sneak a glance at his face, but it gives nothing away, face relaxed and eyes closed as you work, if you didn’t know him better, you’d think he’d fallen asleep.
You shake yourself out of it, if his eyes are closed, clearly it’s not the same as it was for you. You ignore the sting you feel in your chest at the thought and continue working.
Your hands lightly trace Yoongi’s side as you draw away, scrutinizing his torso. Looking for any last details to tweak or improve. The wound between his ribs and the bite marks, actually more of a chunk ripped out of his side and a bite mark on his neck, look good. Coloring right, depth good, his face looks sunken in the right places, he’s paler than usual, it’s all just missing one thing. You walk to the work bench while he remains in the middle of the studio, eyes now open again with the absence of your hands on him. Looking through the various bottles of red lining the wall, you finally select one, a little runny but the right shade to look like it’s been dried to his skin for a while.
You pause when you get back to him, eyes flicking to his pants then back up to him. “Um, do you care about those pants?”
He glances down, seeming to not have known what jeans he was even wearing. He frowns. “Uh yes actually. These are my favorite.” You try to hide your disappointment, but Yoongi must catch it anyway, because he continues. “But I can just take them off so you can do the blood. Can’t properly test the makeup without all the makeup, right?” He winks and your heart swells that he’s so willing to do so much for you.
You chuckle and step back as he tries to carefully shed his jeans without ruining the makeup covering his chest and stomach. He doesn’t get very far, unable to bend over to push them down very far and too tight to have any hope to just kick off. You bite back a laugh and step forward.
“I can help?” You offer hesitantly. It’s suddenly hitting you that Yoongi is about to be in front of you in just his boxers.
He swallows, clears his throat, before giving a curt nod and looking away, his makeup hiding the ways his cheeks blaze with his thoughts. You kneel, setting the bottle of blood aside and reach up to grab his pants. You hesitate for a moment with your hands in front before moving to the much safer location at his sides, taking hold and gently pulling them down. You do your best to focus on the task and ignore the way his crotch is basically in your face and the fact that you're on your knees in front of him. Maybe you shouldn’t have knelt down to do this, giving the compromising position it’s put you in. You really should’ve thought this whole thing through before telling him to take his pants off.
You instead focus on the ground as you work his pants off. Once off and tossed safely to the side you look back up to him, which turns out to be a mistake. Because on the way up, you don’t miss the unmistakable twitch of his dick in his boxers, but you do miss the way his dark eyes follow your movements, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Your eyes widen and you quickly busy yourself with grabbing the bottle and getting back to your feet all while studiously ignoring Yoongi and the way your cheeks feel like they’re on fire.
He clears his throat. “Sorry.”
You want the ground to swallow you up. It’s worse that he’s acknowledging it, you both could’ve just pretended that his dick isn’t half hard and that you most definitely saw the outline of it. You shake your head. “It’s fine, really.”
You open the bottle of blood. You hope if you get to work that Yoongi will stop talking, won’t make this more awkward, give more tension to this situation. Yoongi goes silent as soon as the bottle is open, straightening his back and assuming his usual position and you’re grateful.
You use a dropper to get blood into the wounds, watching the paths the blood tracks down Yoongi’s skin once it overflows, following unti the drops hit his boxers and seep into the fabric. You continue, adding extra splatters and drips, blooding up his face as well. Your eyes trace the tracks left across his body, it’s missing something but you can’t place your finger on what. You step back, tilt your head to the side as you study him. You look from the bottle back to him, hoping it will hit you, but nothing comes.
After a few minutes, Yoongi moves, scratching lightly at the corner of his mouth and accidently smearing some of the blood there. He looks worried when he sees the red painting his finger tip.
“I’m so sorry, it just tickled, I thought I was avoiding it.”
You’re not listening though because the smear on his mouth is the answer you’ve been searching for. The blood you’ve put on is too neat, it looks unnatural. No zombie is going to just stand there and no human being attacked would be so still. They’d fight and squirm and blood would smear. You shake your head quickly when he goes to apologize again and step forward, reaching out and smearing the blood around his mouth a little more, fingers lightly tracing his lips. You only give yourself a small moment to appreciate the feel of them. You work down his body, smearing areas that need it and adding more blood when it seems like somewhere isn’t bloody enough.
Your fingers brush the hem of his boxers and you jerk your hand away, avoiding his eyes and trying to ignore the fact that he’s only gotten harder since you took his pants off. You step back quickly looking over your work again, not letting your gaze drop below his waist. It’s still missing something. You look at the bottle and your bloodied hand and look back at him, trying to piece out what you think is missing. You look at your hand again and get an idea. You pour a little more blood onto it, setting the bottle aside and stepping back to Yoongi. You look him over slowly, trying to figure out the best place for it and your eyes stop on the bite on his neck.
You study the other side of his neck, looking starkly bare next to the gore of the bite and your place your hand gently on his neck, thumb brushing his chin. You can imagine the jerking movement that your placement would have actually been had you been going for his throat and your caress seems all the more strange, so gentle compared to the violence that your makeup appears, to the bloody print you’re leaving behind.
You meet Yoongi’s gaze and are frozen by the heat in his eyes. Your fingers twitch against his skin but you can’t find it in yourself to pull away. You feel like you’ve been staring at Yoongi for an eternity, but it couldn’t have been more than a handful of moments, before there’s movement, you can’t really tell if it’s you or him who moves first. But then Yoongi’s lips are pressed to your own and you can now fully appreciate their softness.
You can feel the blood smear around your own mouth, taste the bitterness on your lips when you grow bold enough to let your tongue dance along the seam of his lips until he opens up to you and the bitterness of the blood is quickly lost to a taste that is wholly Min Yoongi.
Yoongi groans and pulls you flush against him and you can feel the blood seep into your clothes but you can’t really find it in you to care when he abandons your mouth in favor of trailing his lips across your jaw and down your throat to nip and suck at the skin there, marking you with set of bite marks. .
You moan at the sharp sting, squirming against Yoongi’s hold. He growls, arm wrapping tighter around you as he quickly maneuvers you to the floor, situating himself between your legs to keep you pinned with his hips. You gasp when you feel his hard cock press against you. He makes a noise against your throat and grinds against you a few times. You tangle your hands in his hair, staining the blond strands pink and red and give him a gentle tug. He lifts his head at your urging, looking down at you with hazy, hungry eyes, eyes that are at odds with the makeup surrounding them. You heart stutters in your chest, for a moment it’s easy to forget that Yoongi is human, the makeup and hunger in his eyes make him look ready to absolutely devour you.
Which he does when you pull him in for another kiss, muttering a ‘Yoongi please’ against his lips. He licks into your mouth and you feel wholly consumed by him. He gives you a squeeze before one hand is slipping between the two of you. His hips shift, cock pressing against your thigh so that his fingers can press at your clit through your panties and leggings.
Yoongi groans and bites your bottom lip. “Fuck… You’re already so wet and we haven’t done anything.” He leans back, a teasing smirk in place. “Zombies and blood get you that hot?”
You glare at him, reaching down and into his boxers to wrap your hand around his dick. His mouth drops open and you grin in victory.
“Like you have room to talk.” You begin to pump him slowly.
Yoongi grumbles and kisses you again to keep anymore smart remarks from coming out. He continues to rub you through your legging and you can feel your slick slowly soaking the fabric the more he presses against it. You whine, squirming against his fingers.
He shushes you. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll give you what you want.”
You huff, squeezing him tighter until he gasps. You smirk. “Then give it to me.”
He chuckles, giving you one last peck before he’s pulling away. “I should’ve known you’d be just as mouthy like this as you are any other time.” He sits back on his heels and grabs your leggings and tugs them and your panties off in one go, leaving your bottom half bare aside from the smears of blood.
You raise an eyebrow. “Oh, so you’ve thought about how I’d be like this?” You tease.
He pauses and you’re about to question him when he’s diving back down to silence you with a kiss. Had he thought about you like this? His reluctance to give a straight answer makes it seem likely and that sends a thrill through you.
He shoves his underwear down enough to get to his cock, brushing it along your folds. You gasp into the kiss, hands coming up to grab at his sides, one hand meeting the latex of the mark on his side.
He presses in slowly and when he bottoms out he jerks himself away from the kiss to stare down in wonder at where you’re joined, like he can’t believe this is happening. You’re not entirely sure this isn’t just a very weird wet dream. After a moment too long of his inactivity, you whine and squirm again. His eyes snap up to you and the lust in his gaze makes your breath catch in your throat. Yoongi’s features are much sharper with the makeup, more intense. You never thought blood would be a thing, but Yoongi covered in it while towering over you is apparently a thing you are very into.
His lips curl up devilishly and with the combination of makeup, he looks potently lethal right now, like he’s about to absolutely ruin you. You’d let him too. He draws out slowly, smirk still in place, until just the tip remains inside. Then he snaps his hips forward and you cry out. He starts a quick pace and your hands slide around to his back to dig your nails in. You vaguely think that you ripped some of the bite mark up, but Yoongi makes no indication that he felt anything. And you couldn’t care about ruining all your work when you’re doing your best just to hang onto your sanity as Yoongi’s cock drags against your walls in all the best ways.
Yoongi buries his face in your neck, hand slipping between you both once again to rub at your clit. “Come on baby, cum for me. Fuck, cum on my cock, love.”
He punctuates his command with a nip to your neck and you shudder, orgasm swiftly rising. A few more circles of your clit has your back bowing as you cum, pussy convulsing around Yoongi’s cock. Yoongi’s pace stutters slightly from the sudden constriction but as soon as your orgasm begins to subside, he’s grabbing your hips and thrusting harshly into you to chase his own release.
Tears gather in your eyes at the onslaught of overstimulation. “Yoongi… Fuck, please…” You don’t even know what you’re begging for. “Yoongi…”
He groans and kisses you messily as he gets a handful more thrusts before he’s cuming, flooding your pussy. Your gasp, shuddering at the warmth and his hips twitch at the sound. After a few moments of catching his breath, he carefully pulls out, flopping beside you and gathering you to his chest.
You both lay there in silence. Your mind is blissfully quiet for a while, until Yoongi presses a kiss to the top of your head and suddenly everything feels like too much, ming in overdrive because what was this supposed to mean? You’d been so careful to keep your feelings hidden and you feel too exposed. You need to leave, you need space, you need to think. You jerk up, quickly looking for your leggings. Yoongi sits up slowly, he looks confused and in your rush to find your clothes, you miss the flash of hurt on his face as he watches you.
“Sorry, I forgot we had a meeting for the film tonight. Everyone’s so busy this was the only time we could do it.” You babble out. You know you don’t sound particularly coherent, you can’t even properly stand.
You can’t find your underwear so you give up on them, you need to get out of here or you’re going to cry. You tug your leggings on, ignoring the cool tackiness of the crotch or the way they instantly get soaked further with your and Yoongi’s mixed releases.
Yoongi looks like he wants to say something but remains silent as you gather your things. You pause at the door and chew your lip. You turn and give him a little wave, the best smile you can muster in place as you do. You know it’s not very good, but it’s the best you’ve got.
“I’ll text you after. I’m so sorry I’ve gotta go.” You murmur as you slip out.
Yoongi sits on the floor for a few moments after you leave, cement floor cold against his bare ass. Eventually, he pushes himself up and moves over to the sink to begin cleaning himself up. He catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror and pauses to observe just how much of your work was ruined. The bite mark on his side has been almost completely torn off, only hanging on in a few spots. The makeup and blood has been smeared into one big mess and he’s pretty sure most of it just rubbed off onto you.
Yoongi sighs. You hadn’t even gotten a picture of all this work before it’d gotten ruined and there’s no hope of him getting any picture worth while. He continues his trip to the sink and cleans himself up, completely used to the sting of removing latex from his skin. The methodical cleaning lets his mind wander and he regrets that he let hormones get the best of him in this situation. He’d wanted to ask you out first, maybe a couple of dates before anything physical like this. He’s liked you for so long and this was his chance. He tries not to think of your rushing out as meaning anything other than what you said about your meeting. He’s had his share of strange meeting times.
He finishes and dresses himself, taking it upon himself to clean up the supplies you’d left out in your haste to leave, a fond smile finding its way to his lips as he recounts the many times you’ve lamented your messy studio mates who leave supplies out. Once finished, he shuts the lights off and decides to head home.
He expects his house to be empty when he returns, it’s past midnight at this point and you had said there was a meeting for the film and if you had to go that meant that the actors would be there as well. But to his surprise, Jin is lounging on the couch, watching some drama on Netflix when he enters.
He frowns. “Is the meeting over already?”
Jin gives him a questioning look. “Meeting?” Jin looks him over, takes in the pink skin from where the latex had sat. “Where were you?”
“I was helping Y/n with some final tweaks to the zombie makeup. That didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t know what meeting you’re talking about, Yoongi. There was no meeting tonight.” Jin catches the way Yoongi’s face crumples and sits up, gaze intent on Yoongi. “Why? Who said there was?”
Yoongi ignores him for a moment, goes to the sink to get a drink of water and Jin follows, waiting patiently for Yoongi’s response.
“Y/n said there was. She remembered after we-” He cuts himself off abruptly, cheeks turning crimson.
Jin picks up on it, perking up. “After you...?” he presses. When Yoongi doesn’t immediately speak up, he continues. “Did you finally ask her out like we’ve been telling you to?!” Jin’s about to excitedly continue when Yoongi cuts him off with a soft ‘no’. His face falls. “What happened then?”
“We- “ Yoongi rubs his hands on his face then sighs. “We fucked. In her studio. It just… It’s been building up for so long. But I had such a good plan laid out to ask her out. But... “ He trails off and doesn’t finish.
“Oh, Yoongi.” Jin murmurs, pulling the other into a tight hug. “I promise you this will work out. She likes you too and I’m sure she’s just a little scared about what this means.” Yoongi sniffles and Jin hugs him tighter. “It’ll be okay, Yoongi. Promise.”
You’re incredibly grateful that shooting started the day after your night with Yoongi in your studio. Your thoughts have been a mess. That night seemed like the culmination of something, but when you tried to think of just what it meant, you found yourself terrified of what the answer may be. So you did the safest thing and ran.
Jin tried to talk to you a little bit while filming, but he was still fairly easy to avoid with excuses of needing to touch up the zombies' makeup. You could see the sadness in his eyes and after the first two days he stopped trying to corner you and so you tentatively sought him out during break one day, talking about topics that stayed safely away from Yoongi. You assume Yoongi had told him at least something about that night, but you’re too terrified to ask what he knows.
But now here you were, almost two weeks later and you’ve only seen Yoongi in group settings. It’s the longest you’ve gone without hanging out with just him in almost the whole time you’ve been friends. He looked tired, but when anyone else brought it up to him, he’d wave it off that he was just busy with the film soundtrack. His eyes linger on you and you know he wants to talk to you, but you don’t know if you can handle that just yet. But you resolve that after the film is over and you’ve had time to process, you’ll seek him out. You at least owe him that much.
The premiere is tonight, it’s relatively small, mostly people who worked on it and their friends, plus some other students from the campus who get first chance to see films that will get screened to the public later. Your friends all gathered with you in a row and you can see Yoongi at the other end of them. The film turns out as good as you knew it would and as the credits begin to roll, people begin to filter out. Jin tells you that they’ll meet you in the lobby, they know how much you love to sit through the credits and appreciate everyone who worked so hard to put out a film.
You watch the names as they go by, overwhelming pride when you see your friends' names up there. Then it gets to the soundtrack and you bite your lip. Yoongi did most of the soundtrack, these are his babies and you read through each one and feel so much pride you might burst.
The grin on your face falters a little when you see the last three titles and you jerk to your feet, hands gripping the seat in front of you tightly. They can’t be. But there in black and white, “midnight meeting”, “old friends”, and “so much more to give” scroll by you. They could just be titles, maybe Yoongi didn’t even name them. But you know Yoongi would never send a track out unnamed and he names everything with purpose. Everything he creates has meaning. And there’s only one thing those three together could mean.
As the realization hits you, you gasp, hand covering your mouth and tears welling up in your eyes. This is his way of confessing because you’ve been avoiding him. He knows how you always stay behind to watch the credits.
A chuckle sounds behind you and you startle, turning to see Yoongi still sitting in his seat down the row from you. “I’m glad I chose this way so that no one sees you cry at the end of a zombie movie. They might get the wrong idea,” he teases.
“Yoongi…” you breathe.
He nods towards the screen. “Good idea, huh? Can’t say many people get confessed to through movie credits during the soundtrack part.”
He pushes himself to his feet, moving closer to where you remain frozen, mind still not fully caught up. He looks nervous when he stops in front of you and you haven’t said anything yet.
“I hope I didn’t read everything wrong?” He looks scared.
That snaps you out of your inaction, reaching forward to grab his cheeks and pull him in for a kiss. “Fuck, I love you, Yoongi.”
He grins into the kiss, arms wrapping around you. “I love you too,” he murmurs.
Zombie movies might be your new favorite genre.
#bangtanarmynet#hyunglinenetwork#btsguild#ksmutclub#kwritersworldnet#magicshopnet#yoongi x reader#bts x reader#suga x reader#bts smut#yoongi smut#suga smut#bts fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#bts au#yoongi au
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Rules: It’s time to love yourselves! Choose your 8 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. Tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome work!
Thank you so much for the tag @kittidot, I’m honored you thought of me, you’re such a lovely person (also thank you for Run! i adore it so much)
I’m still pretty new, but I think I’ve done a decent amount in such little time, so here’s a few things that stuck out in my mind from the past four and a half months
1. For Real - It’s by far my most popular work (idk when, but recently it hit 50 kudos, which. what the actual fuck) and has been really fun to work on. I have a habit of writing way more than I planned, and For Real’s fallen victim to this, too. I meant for it to be a one shot, then maybe 3 chapters, then a 4th, and now it’s going to be very long with a lot of post villa, but I love the chance to expand on Priya and Hazel, so you’re stuck with them for a while
2. ~grumpy marisol~ - I am by no means an artist, but I’m trying my best, okay? I’m really bad at sitting down and spending time drawing when it’s not absolutely perfect, but I think it turned out better than most things I’ve drawn, even if it’s not by much, so I’ll take the win lmao
3. Repairs - I love the angst and the pining, and writing Erikah of all characters has been really fun. It’s definitely different from most of my works, but in the best way possible. It’s just two chapters with very little plot and an absurd amount of metaphors, and I’m stupid proud of it, especially chapter 1
4. Wildfire - Similar to Repairs, it’s just one long metaphor that’s definitely incredibly excessive. But I like writing feelings and angst and Wildfire was a blast for me. It was a prompt sent in by @kittidot, the super dope person that has tagged me for this, and was my first time writing Hannah. I doubt I would have ever chosen the prompt myself, but it was so perfect for the hopelessly romantic person that is Hannah, so thank you @kittidot for sending it
5. Disney Princess - I never really thought about writing for Aurora, nor did I think I’d be doing a series for Choices, but here we are. It’s right up my alley - following canon events but with a twist to relationships - and I’m pretty happy with what I’ve come up with so far. Plus, I absolutely adore writing grumpy characters, and that’s about all Aurora is. @bubblelaureno was awesome enough to ask me if I’d ever write Aurora a while back, so you only have her to blame for it
6. Bad at Sleeping Alone - A Queen B one shot that was my second venture into writing Choices, and definitely got me more into it. I thought it’d be a bit shorter than it was, but I’m not even mad at it. It’s cute and fun and has some angst, and those are my favourite things to write, so it fits pretty well in my portfolio
7. MCs - Doesn’t quite fit with the rest, but instead of writing this past week or so (i hate course work) I’ve been developing my MCs and their stories a ton, and a while ago I made picrews of all my LITG girlies because I’m obsessed with them, as well as dropped surnames while I work on proper profiles. I know no one cares, but I adore them, so here they are
8. Bowl of Cherries - I don’t know why I love this one so much, but I really do. Sage is probably one of my favourite MCs I’ve written, and Cherry’s never been my go to, but I loved getting to try something new for her. I’m also stupid proud of the closing line, and it’s the only reason I didn’t resolve it and now have to figure out a second part. I have no regrets.
tagging, if you haven't been already and are down, @bubblelaureno @chichiguitarist123 @monaownsmyass @bubblybabynailpolish @lilithlibrxa @deuchess @venueska cuz you’re all super awesome and talented and fantastic and holy shit how am i mutuals with you??
#thank you so much for the tag <3<3<3<3<3#this was so wholesome i loved it#can it kc#i had to search on web and found that im the only one who uses that tag sooooo#take that tumblr search
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Gamers gotta game | 2 |
Pairing: Gamer!jungkook x Nerd!Reader x Fuckboy!Jimin
Genre: Future smut, fluff and angst.
Warnings: More angst than anything on this part, mentions of alcohol abuse.
A/N: I’m happy to see that many of you liked the first part, this is a slow-burn fic so bear with me. *gif not mine*
1 | 2
PART 2
▪♡▪
10:15
You felt like your hangover from yesterday was there again, even if you didn’t drink anything the night before. It felt like your head was about to explode when you got up. Sundays are pretty lazy for you, there is something in the vibe of it that makes you incapable of being productive.
There is no need to get out of your PJs, so you just lay on the small couch and watch some Netflix on your cellphone. Maybe Kenny is already up so you decide to text her, just to see if she’s ok with the hole Seokjin ordeal.
But then you see something that makes you look at it twice, a message… From Jimin?
Okay, not that big of a deal. He was drunk, you saw him and he may remembered you. That doesn’t mean he changed or will change. Come on, you don’t have to change someone, you’re not some kind of savior of boys who can’t keep it on his pants right?
You don’t know if you reply it or not, but for your own safety you just delete the text and his number all together. It was about time.
▪♡▪
Freshmen year.
There are some things you couldn’t quite understand about your body, how it shivers when next to him, the way you’ll blush every time he say something about you or your heart stopping just because of the sight of him. You were totally fucked and with a massive crush on him.
It all started by his way of talking to you, always sweet and really listening you. The conversations weren’t the boring type, you could spend hours talking to him and he seemed to get everything you were saying. After some classes together, you both ended up meeting for projects and studying for exams on the library. That seemed pretty friendly and at that point you felt like it was good this way, he was a good friend.
One day, things got weird between you two. After the first year’s midterm exams you both went to a party because Jimin got in this frat and needed to bring as many people as possible to cheer for him in a kind of “initiation”. You went with Kenny and that was your very first party, so she dolled you up. When you got there it was loud and too crowded for you, but since Jimin wanted you there you stayed.
“Y/N, you made it!” Jimin said when you saw him in the kitchen.
“Yeah, when did you got here?”
“Not long ago, do you drink?” He asked you with some random bottle in hand.
“Sure.”
The night went by, soon enough you’ve learned that Jimin liked drinking a little too much. The said “initiation” was actually many drinking games with some weird penalties, like twerking in front of everybody. Jimin was pretty good at that, you truly started having fun when they announced the final game: chicken fight. The only problem was that the newcomers should have a partner to put on his back. The time Jimin glanced a look at you, you started to shake your head as saying “please no”.
“Come on, Y/N. Do it for me, please?” The puppy eyes were your weak spot.
“Fine but I don’t have a swimsuit.”
“Not a problem you can go with some of my clothes.”
Not necessary to say that the game was a total mess, Jimin almost couldn’t keep straight because of how wasted he was. But you didn’t drink that much so it wasn’t that difficult to beat the other girls. You both got to the last match and Jimin was happy and giggling.
“Y/N, you’re amazing.” You blushed at that, maybe the alcohol finally got to you.
“Let’s win this thing!”
And after what felt like a half of an hour you beat the other girl down and everybody cheered for you two. When get down from Jimin shoulders, he embraced you in a hug.
“I can’t believe you did it. WE DID IT.” He got a big smile on his face that harmed you up.
But then you felt that it was too close for you and started panicking a little, that’s when Jimin closed the space between you two and got his lips on yours. Nobody seemed to notice or care for that matter, they were too drunk for this.
“Hum, I need to go to the bathroom…”
So you almost trip getting out of the pool and heading to upstairs where your clothes were.
▪♡▪
Your Monday’s classes were you favorites, even it being Monday, Econometrics and Statistics were the reasons you chased the Economics major. At the end of the morning classes you got a message from Kenny inviting you to lunch.
“Do you even know the hellhole I went through because of you?”
“I’m sorry.” She looked sad and you know why.
“Hey, I know that something went wrong Saturday. Was it Seokjin?”
“Yeah… He told me that he liked this girl and…” She was almost crying and you embrace her in a hug.
“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”
“No, I’m fine, it was just an enormous crush no biggie.” You started laughing with her at that.
“So… Did he ditched you to go to her?”
“I wish he has done that, he asked me to play Cupid for him. I’m so angry at myself that I did it. He’s not a bad guy but damn… I can’t believe he’s that stupid.”
“Let’s change the subject, how’s your midterm project going?” Kenny made part of the Art’s Department and everyone on it had to submit twice a year to the University Art Festival, even her Audiovisual major.
“I feel stuck, it’s like I can’t vision it anymore.”
She once told you that her project were about history of our city photography, I pity her because it seems a lot of work for just one person to do. But you know she can do it, her last year’s short film were amazing, she’s brilliant with artistic stuff.
“Isn’t it too much for just you?”
“Actually, this year I can make some freshmen work for me to earn credits. I just didn’t decide who it will be.”
“WHAT? You have two months until the deadline.”
“I know, okay. I’m doing interviews this afternoon. The difficult part is done, I have the materials treated but analyzing and selecting them is not my cup of tea.”
“How many are they?”
“Around 200.”
“Girl…”
“I know right? How could you imagine this city would be that interesting.”
You both laugh at that.
“So… Do you have some time? I don’t really like meeting new people alone and those freshmen just scare me to death.”
“Just two hours, I have Statistics at 3 pm.”
“Wow, your major schedule is crazy.”
Oh, yeah it is. Ghosting Jimin made you pass more time between classes than in your own house. Worthy though, the Math Department had a good Statistics teacher. The Art’s Department is not that far from the cafeteria so you get there pretty fast, the interviews will happen in an empty classroom near the auditorium.
“At what time will they be here?”
“Probably in 20 minutes.”
And the first freshmen entered the room, she was a small girl with a timid smile called Mariam. She seemed fine but a little too clumsy, almost falling to sit on the chair.
“What are some of your interests in our department?”
“I like filmmaking and photography”
“Did you ever made part of an art project before?”
“Not really, I didn’t study arts in High School.” At that me and Kenny looked at each other, it is extremely difficult getting to any artistic related major without having any background. It’s like getting to a Med School without doing biology.
“How did you choose your degree?”
“Well… I always liked the cinematography studies I did for a Movie Club we hold with our history teacher. I never went to practice on it but I know the basics on cameras.”
“Right, I think you’re the only one showing up so…”
“Wait! I’m sorry, Mr. Rogers extended his class.” Two men entered the room with heavy breaths probably from running here. The one who talked had a quite long hair and was a little tanned. The other one… wait a minute, you knew him from the party, he was the one playing online games in his room.
“It’s fine… I know how Mr. Rogers is.”
“Well Mariam, I will let you know the results by email.” The interview continued with the one called Taehyung, but what you were looking at was Jungkook. He seemed to notice it as he stared at you for a second after turning his head away blushing.
“So you both are freshman?”
“Well… I’m a sophomore but I switched majors this year.”
In the end of the interview Kenny looked amused with Taehyung and his portfolio. Then it was Jungkook’s turn.
“Then… Jungkook, right?” He nodded “I’ve heard a lot about you in Ms. Turner class, you seem to be her favorite of your year.”
She knew him too?
“I… I’m sure it’s not true, she’s just very generous.” Kenny smiled at that, you knew that this one professor was hell on earth when it comes to personality.
“Okay, what editing programs can you work with?”
“PS, Illustrator, Corel, Lightroom and Luminar.”
“Well, have you worked with curation of photos for an exhibition?”
“Yes, back in High School.”
At the end of the interview you were running late for your class so you stared heading to the Math Department building. But before you could proceed, you saw Jungkook standing at the exit.
“Hum… Thank you for helping me at the party.”
“It was nothing.” He looked surprised that I talked to him directly. “I know how these parties are… Are you from the department?”
“Oh, no. Actually I’m just Kenny’s friend.”
“Well… I gotta go.”
“Hum… Yeah, see you.”
The man surely was not what you expected from the BTS frat house, he seemed a little lost and timid but maybe it was because you didn’t know him that well. One thing you’ve learned the past year is that you can’t be sure based on first impressions.
▪♡▪
In the end Kenny opted for going with the last two freshmen but you didn’t see any of them for the next tree weeks. You and Kenny were lunching at the cafeteria when the both of them sat on the same table as you.
“Hey guys, are you done with the descriptions yet?” Kenny seemed worried, her deadline is next month.
“Not really, there are some things we would like to discuss about it.” Taehyung said.
“What about it?”
“I don’t think the photos make sense together yet.” That’s when Kenny took a long breath.
“I know right? But I don’t know what to do anymore.”
They all seemed lost on it. “Can I take a look on it?”
All three of them were surprised but Taehyung showed you the project on a folder. The images were incredibly good in quality for the time it was taken, but they didn’t seem to be from the same city. But one took your attention, it was a small market that was in front of your house with some old man in front of it.
“Why don’t you talk to these people? Maybe they can give you a hint of how these photos could make sense together.” Kenny scoffed at you.
“And where would we find them, on the cemetery?”
“No, dummy. This market is the one in front of my house, maybe you can talk to people nearby and see if there is someone from that time still alive, it’s called Oral History and maybe I can go with you and take some notes for my microeconomics class project.”
A/N: Even if this part ended up being longer, I don’t know if I really like it. I’ll try to do better for part 3, send me any feedback you think I need :)
#jeon jungkook#bts#bts jeon jungkook#bts fluff#fluff#bts angst#angst#bts jimin#jimin#park jimin#bts fanfic#bts fanfiction#fanfic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jungkook imagine#jimin scenarios#jimin smut#jimin fluff#jungkook fluff#jimin x reader#bts imagines#jeon jungguk#jungguk
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Title: you’re no better at swimming than you were in the beginning, but you come over at night and we practice all the breathing (Percy Jackson x Annabeth Chase)
Word Count: 7.3k
Summary: “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”
AU - Mortals, Neighbors
Author’s note: I was listening to Lorde’s “No Better” and the lyrics that I used for the title have always inspired me to create something, so I wrote this (closely based on those lyrics and loosley based on the song in general). I haven’t written fanfiction in 4 years, so I’m a little rusty. This was originally supposed to be a quick one-shot but quickly turned into something more, so I hope y’all enjoy!
[on AO3]
Annabeth was terrified of water.
Swimming pool, pond, lake, ocean – it was all the same to her. It was as if the substance was alive, waiting to consume her whole. She wasn’t entirely sure when her vendetta against water had begun. Maybe it was during those infant swimming lessons her dad had attempted with her (the supposed reflex for baby Annabeth to flip herself onto her back just never kicked in). Maybe it was just her fear of the unknown because with Annabeth she had to know, and the fact that the most concrete fact about the ocean was that 95% of it was unknown wasn’t cutting it for her. She’ll stay on land. She’ll stay dry. She’ll stick to what she knew.
And that’s exactly what she did. That’s what she did when she was asked on her first date in the eighth grade, her step-mother nearly exploding with excitement as she stormed through Annabeth’s closet picking what she should wear, asking where he was taking her. The answer was initially going to be a ride on his boat, but Annabeth insisted on going to an arcade instead. She knew the place, she won all the games, he didn’t ask her out again. She knew he wouldn’t, she knew she could be intimidating… so why not test the waters?
That’s also what she did after Piper had grabbed her by the belt loops and kissed her at the beginning of ninth grade. She allowed herself to dip her toe into the unknown – just for a couple of months – exploring what could be a relationship with one of her closest friends. It was good, she liked girls, she knew she liked girls. But she also knew that Piper was not for her, not right now. She was better off as Annabeth’s friend. She knew that. And she knew Piper knew that too.
***
That’s not what she did when Percy Jackson moved next door the month before her sophomore year. Messy haired, browned skin, green-eyed Percy. She tried to observe him from the comfort of her window nook as he aided his parents in unpacking the moving truck. He was taller than his mother, even taller than his father, and appeared to be laughing at jokes said in passing. The corner of her lip curved into a slight smile – he was nice. It was then she decided to go introduce herself when she knew the time was right; when they were done unloading boxes.
She decided to go downstairs and do something else in the meantime, rather than risking having her snooping area found out by the new neighbors. As she began to sip on a cup of water at the kitchen island, her father and half-brother’s burst through the front door, both of them bubbling with excitement.
“The new neighbors are so cool,” Matthew exclaimed, his twin brother, Bobby, nodding vigorously in agreement.
So much for waiting for the right time. Yet, Annabeth couldn’t help but feel a twinge of excitement as well: new neighbors, cool new neighbors, with a son that was around her age.
“Oh, really,” Annabeth rested against the island, raising her eyebrows in interest, “what’s so cool about them?”
By that point, Bobby and Matthew were nearly bouncing off the walls as they informed her of all the digestible, yet important details. Like how the son is her age, how they had just moved to San Francisco from New York City, how his name was Percy…
“And they have a massive pool in their yard. Percy said he’s going to teach us how to swim!”
Her dad just chuckled, putting a hand on both Bobby and Matthew’s shoulders as they walked closer towards the kitchen island together towards Annabeth, “Boys, you already know how to swim.”
“Annabeth doesn’t,” Bobby said as he hopped on a seat, Matthew followed suit.
Annabeth narrowed her eyes, leaning towards the two of them from the opposite end of the island, blonde curls falling over her shoulders as she stared daggers at the twins, “Well did you tell him that?”
The lack of an answer from the two was all she needed, “I so don’t need to learn how to swim! Why would you tell him that?”
“Because you so do! He’s joining your school’s swim team so he knows his stuff,” Matthew rebutted.
Fifth graders. Annabeth didn’t even have the time to murder them before her father sent her out to say hello. So, Annabeth stomped towards the house next door, her initial excitement about the new neighbors squashed by her annoyance for her little brothers. Of course, Percy’s a swimmer, of course, he’s going to her high school. The family was nowhere in sight outside, so Annabeth assumed that they had finished unloading the van – maybe timing worked in her favor after all.
She walked to the front door, lifting her fist to knock on it, but just as she did the door swung open and she was face to face with tall, messy-haired, browned skinned Percy. He had on a crisp olive green t-shirt, with black ripped jeans showing the scars and bruises scattered across his summer skin. His slightly overgrown jet black curls framed his face, a strand falling between his brows and resting right before the bridge of his nose. He was an unexpected hybrid between a skater boy and a surfer kid, belonging to both New York City yet appearing to be a California native simultaneously. Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the faded freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks, ending perfectly under his sea-green eyes. Sea-green eyes… maybe the water wasn’t so bad after all.
Percy’s eyes darted from Annabeth’s raised fist (which she quickly lowered) to her face, his initial slight alarm turning into a pleasantly surprised grin.
“You must be Annabeth,” he said, looking down at her with mischief dancing across his eyes, “the sister who can’t swim.”
The water continued to be unbearable.
***
“He looks like an idiot.”
“He looks like Annabeth’s type.”
Annabeth refused to look up from her sketchbook, definitely not because she was blushing, more because she was focused. AP 3-D Art and Design was one of the few classes where she could see both Piper and Thalia at the same time, with Piper being a freshman and Thalia being a senior. For Annabeth, it was a class taken to further her career, giving her the creative space and resources she needed to strengthen her architectural portfolio. For Thalia and Piper, well, they thought it would be easier. Yet with Piper never failing to have a ceramics piece explode in the kiln and Thalia’s hatred for the texture of slip, the two of them resorted to scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page.
The Jackson family had progressively started to spend more time with the Chases and, as a result, Percy and Annabeth had begun to spend more time together as well. It startled Annabeth to her core that she had begun to trust Percy so much in such a short period of time.
“I have mommy issues,” she said to him one summer day, partially a joke, partially a bitter nod to her biological mother who had abandoned her and her father. She didn’t remember the conversation that prompted her to say this, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she expected to get out of Percy with that line. The two of them were merely lying on the loungers in Annabeth’s backyard: Annabeth with sunglasses on, staring up at the sky trying to soak up in the last few moments of summer freedom, Percy glistening with beads of water across his body because he had just lifted himself out of his pool before sprinting to Annabeth’s side to shake himself off on her. She was annoyed, yes, but the youthful laughter that spilled out from Percy’s lips upon seeing her frustration melted away all feelings of indignation.
So with all things considered, Annabeth expected an awkward laugh at least, maybe an equivalent joke about Percy’s own parental issues at best. Family problems had been one of their first bonding points, after all. But instead, Percy rolled onto his side to face Annabeth and asked in a charming yet cautious voice for Annabeth to take off her sunglasses.
After gazing into her eyes, after seeing what was truly behind that statement, he simply asked “Do you want to talk about her?”
And that’s all Annabeth needed that afternoon.
What she didn’t need was Thalia and Piper scrolling through Percy’s Instagram page when they should be doing their work.
“Please don’t like anything on accident,” Annabeth begged as she leaned over to look at the picture Piper had pulled up. It was Percy submerged in the blue of the ocean, fish swarming around his body as he flashed a peace sign at the camera. He was wearing a wetsuit and scuba diving gear, his fin-wearing feet floating beneath him, brushing the coral and sand that lay at the bottom, as his upper body turned towards the camera. And despite the regulator that covered his mouth Annabeth could tell he was wearing a shit-eating grin based off of the gleam of excitement and mischief present in his eyes. Percy fucking Jackson.
“He’s definitely an idiot, Thalia, and he’s definitely not my type, Piper,” Annabeth replied before assuming the position she had before, going back to her sketch.
“Oh, no, I think he’s your type,” Thalia corrected as she plucked Piper’s phone from her hands and continued to scroll down the page, “But I also think he’s an idiot. You guys would even each other out in every sense.”
She put extra emphasis on the last two words right as she turned the phone towards Annabeth, showing a similar scuba diving picture as before – God, is that all this boy could do? – that was captioned “I basically live in the water.”
Annabeth hated the water almost as much as she hated how perfect Percy’s loose curls looked floating in it.
***
The end of Annabeth and Percy’s sophomore year was bookmarked by a Jackson-Chase “End-of-Year” and “Thalia’s-Actually-Graduating” hybrid celebration. The two families opened up their fences so all invited parties could easily go in and out between the two yards, with a barbeque in the Chase backyard and the pool in the Jackson backyard being a center of wet, splashing, chaos. Annabeth’s father was at the grill rotating hot dogs and burgers, using Annabeth’s Yankees baseball cap to keep his hair out of his face in the midst of the newfound barely-even-summer-yet heat. In the distance, Annabeth could hear Bobby and Matthew hitting the surface of the Jacksons’ above ground pool, screeching and giggling as they blasted Percy with the water soakers he had gifted them earlier in the day.
“In honor of your fifth-grade graduation and the fact that I am no longer thirteen years old,” he had said in an obnoxiously declarative tone, emerging from his backdoor, a water soaker in each hand. He had the same shit-eating grin he had on in all his scuba diving photos – not that Annabeth had studied them periodically ever since that one conversation with Thalia and Piper, she would never – and his hair was beginning to become overgrown once again.
Her brother’s beaming faces almost put Percy’s own smile to shame as they each took one as Percy finished his statement with, “Plus, I have a spare one that I can use to attack Annabeth with.”
He turned towards her and winked as her brothers voiced their gratitude and dashed to Annabeth’s kitchen to fill up their new weapons with the fatal substance.
“You need a haircut,” Annabeth said as she reached up on her tiptoes to brush Percy’s loose curls out of his face with her fingers.
“I like having my hair like this in the summer,” Percy replied, taking Annabeth’s wrist in his hand and lowering it away from his forehead, “You think it makes me look more like a Californian?”
Annabeth blamed the burning of her cheeks on the sun – God, why was it so hot today? – and nodded slowly, “Oh, yeah, I noticed the overgrown hair look in the summer. Does it make scuba diving any less terrifying, or are you just part fish? Would explain the small brain.”
She didn’t realize what her words had insinuated until Percy raised his eyebrows at her, the shit-eating grin finding its way back onto his newly freckled face. He hadn’t posted scuba diving pictures since before he moved to San Francisco at the end of last summer, and they were very much buried in his feed. The sun suddenly got a lot hotter.
So now, in the midst of this Jackson-Chase hybrid celebration, Annabeth hoped that her brothers would blast Percy with their water guns so hard that he lost all memory of that conversation. Maybe she was overreacting, maybe just a little bit, but she couldn’t have Percy Jackson thinking that she liked him or anything… unless he liked her.
Annabeth aggressively bit into her vaguely burnt hot dog. Fuck, she thought, examining the scene that played out in front of her. The sun had begun to set, leaving a hazy pink mark on the horizon as a crisp warm air flooded the backyards. Piper was sitting on the table in Annabeth’s backyard (no matter how many times Annabeth’s step-mother told Piper to not do so, she never listened), facing Thalia’s little brother, Jason, who was sitting on the chair in front of her. They seemed to be caught up in an interesting conversation, based upon the sly smile and glimmer in Piper’s eyes and Jason’s animated gestures. Her father had finished grilling and was now caught up in a conversation with Thalia’s parents and Paul, Percy’s step-father.
“I had no doubt in my mind Thalia was going to graduate, I swear!” Annabeth’s father exclaimed,
She smiled softly to herself. How bittersweet; Thalia, her mentor, her best friend, was leaving her, and it was beginning to seem like the end of an era, but maybe it was only the beginning of something else. She could still hear the shrieks and splashes coming from the Jackson side of the party, the sounds of wet feet dashing across their’ evergreen grass. Annabeth could even hear Thalia joining in on whatever rambunctious game Percy and her brothers had invented with their water soakers, screaming at Percy about how idiotic he was before more splashing took place.
Maybe this was the beginning of Annabeth’s new era, one that had Percy Jackson in it. One that was filled with more talks like the one she had about her mother and the dozens more that followed, where she could just talk and Percy just listened, staring up at her with sea-green eyes that somehow managed to whisper all the right words in her ear. One that would allow her to continue fostering the undeniable bond that she and Percy had formed in the handful of months since he moved in next door, the bond that allowed him to let tears stream down his face as Annabeth watched and stroked his arm. She didn’t always entirely know what to say to him, and that killed her, but Percy told her that that was okay, that her just being there helped. She knew how to just be there, and she knew she wouldn’t forget how to anytime soon, either.
Maybe she did like Percy Jackson.
Maybe she could go inside the pool.
She already had on a purple swimsuit under her athletic shorts, all she need to do was go over there and dive in. Piper and Jason had already fled to the pool party side and all the adults had migrated to the Chase backyard. Annabeth jumped up and brushed her hands off on her shorts, she was going to do it. She marched towards the Jacksons’ yard and through the fence, and before her eyes could even register what was occurring she was met with three water soakers blasting her chest, stomach, and face.
“Oh my god, wait!” she screamed, putting her hands up in a pathetic attempt to stop the assault. But her screams soon dissolved into unmistakable laughter as she darted across the yard. Percy and her brothers chased after her, unforgiving with the pressure of their soakers. Piper, Jason, and Thalia picked sides from their spots inside the pool, shouting different tactics at the four players in the relentless game of chase.
“The pool is the safe spot!” Jason shouted at Annabeth, “Get in!”
He didn’t know about Annabeth’s irrational fear, fair enough. But maybe this was her cue, after all, the pool wasn’t deep, it’s not like she could drown, and if all else fails Thalia was in there to save her. Those were facts. She knew she would be fine in this pool, Percy Jackson’s above ground pool. With that, Annabeth managed to outrun Percy and her brothers and dart up the ladder of the pool before launching herself into the water.
And Annabeth wasn’t going to lie, the water was freezing and, for a split second, she was terrified. Then she felt Thalia’s warm hand on her shoulder from above the water, the laughter of all her friends, the laughter of Percy, distorted from underneath the surface. Annabeth was fine, she knew that. She broke the surface, greeting her stunned brothers and an entertained Percy Jackson with a stuck-out tongue and middle finger. Pool water, especially Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water, wasn’t that unbearable after all.
Within the next couple of hours, Annabeth’s step-mother came to put her brothers to bed, Annabeth’s father had cleaned up from the barbeque in their backyard, the Graces had gone home, and Piper’s father sent a driver to pick her up.
“Famous father things,” Piper sighed before giving Annabeth a warm hug and jogging to the car, towel around her neck.
Soon, it was just Annabeth and Percy in her kitchen, soaking wet with towels around the necks. Percy’s curls were weighed down by the water, sticking to his forehead. Annabeth’s blonde curls were in a similar fashion, except slicked down to the back of her head, neck, and down her back. They were both cupping mugs of tea as they sat at the kitchen island, shivering due to the cool wind that came with the near-summer nights (it probably didn’t help that Annabeth left the back sliding door wide open). She knew her step-mother would be furious that she and Percy had tracked in water from the pool, but at that moment Annabeth didn’t care. She didn’t even think about it. All she could think about was how she and Percy had stayed in the pool by themselves, hours after everybody had left, and now it was midnight and Percy Jackson was in her kitchen drinking tea with water droplets glistening all over his arms and chest with his freckles coming in across his nose and on his cheeks and his sea-green eyes looking down at her.
Annabeth knew that she was staring up at Percy as if he was the sun itself, and in a way he was. It was midnight and Percy Jackson was the sun itself. Percy Jackson’s pool water wasn’t that unbearable. The most nervewracking and electrifying part about the entire interaction was that Percy was staring right back at her, sipping his tea carefully as he tried to crack the code that was Annabeth Chase, but Annabeth hadn’t even begun to crack it herself yet.
Percy was the first one to break it – whatever it was – and put his mug down on the island with a soft clank.
“So...,” he started, and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice the bead of water that ran along the curvature of his cheek, “those swimming lessons your brother’s signed you up for last summer…?”
He looked back down at her, his usual easy and playful demeanor was replaced with a mysterious and calculating gaze and Annabeth didn’t know. She didn’t know why he looked at her like that and why she looked at him like that. She didn’t know how to handle all that was Percy – he was unknown to her in every sense. He had just moved in not even a year ago and yet she had confided in him about everything and he did the same. He knew her just as well as Piper and Thalia did, and they had known Annabeth for years, what was the logic behind that? That’s what was terrifying, there was no logic to what she felt for Percy Jackson. Every nerve in her body was telling her to go to bed, tell Percy goodnight and end whatever was going on right now because she did not know where this was going. She wanted to go back onto the dry land, forget the ocean.
She looked up at Percy and pressed her lips together in a small smile, “I believe I’ll be taking them… Mr. Jackson, is it?”
The playful and shit-eating grin crashed right back into Percy’s face and Annabeth couldn’t help but notice how close they were. How she suddenly noticed the water droplets decorating his lashes and the slight pink flush that was beginning to flood the area where Percy’s freckles were sprinkled across his nose and cheeks and underneath his eyes. She also noticed how easy it would be to lean in, to grab him by the back of his sunkissed neck decorated in water droplets that the midnight light hit just right and kiss him. And she knew Percy had the same idea as well.
And then the upstairs light flickered on and Percy jumped out of his seat.
“So, swimming lessons,” he sputtered out.
“Tomorrow?” Annabeth asked.
He grabbed his towel and attempted to return to his playful and nonchalant stance as his eyes flickered nervously up towards the staircase, and Annabeth couldn’t help but wonder which family member she had to strangle once she got upstairs, “Tomorrow.”
So that summer they had swimming lessons. Annabeth learned how to back float and Percy even began to show her proper form, detailing what do do if she ever found herself drowning. Honestly? Annabeth couldn’t care less about the different types of strokes and what makes a bad or good form. She did care about how Percy held her up in the water as he guided her arms and legs, informing her on all things swimming with his mouth close to her ear. And Annabeth could feel her ratio between knowing and unknowing grow larger, but one thing she did know for sure was that Percy Jackson’s above ground pool water wasn’t unbearable.
***
The next summer Percy Jackson’s above ground pool was replaced with an inground pool that had no shallow end, and it was as if Annabeth could see the number that represented the things she knew now and the number that represented the things she didn’t know now grow further apart in distance right before her eyes. She tried to describe her frustration to Piper and Thalia who, upon Thalia coming back from college for the summer, were at the Chase residence almost all the time now.
“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Piper said, sitting in the very nook that Annabeth sat in the day she watched the Jacksons move in next door. Piper looked out the window at the Jackson residence, “Plus you have an attractive swim team coming, like, twice a week now if that’s any consolation.”
Thalia made a face from her position on Annabeth’s bed, probably because she knew that Piper had a thing with her little brother at the moment. She had been concentrating on painting her nails a sickening shade of duo chromatic black and electrifying blue but flicked her eyes upwards to glance at Piper.
“For Annabeth! Not for me.”
Annabeth was being overreactive and selfish, this she knew, which is why she didn’t voice her feelings to Percy. His mom had gotten the inground pool installed in celebration for Percy being named captain of the swim team at the end of their junior year. It was also just convenient now considering that since he was the new captain, he would be able to host the team at his house. Annabeth remembered the youthful excitement that his voice carried as he told her. They were lying on Annabeth’s bed in opposite directions with their heads positioned next to one another’s. Percy had reached up to rest his hand on Annabeth’s curls as they both stared up at the ceiling and reflected on their now completed junior year. And she really was happy for him, ecstatic even. When she heard the pride that dripped from Percy’s voice as he talked about the swim team, his swim team… How could she not be? She didn’t even need to look at his face to know how genuinely happy he was, and between that and his fingers tangled in her hair, all resentment towards the inground pool had dissipated for a small moment.
All the resentment stormed back when she saw that Rachel Dare was on the swim team. She was all curly red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits. Annabeth was attracted to her yet utterly envious of her without an ounce of logic to back up her reasoning – Rachel had a girlfriend – and it was driving her insane. Add five to the “things she didn’t know” side of the ratio: why does Rachel Dare drive her crazy if she posed no threat? Why did she even feel that there were “threats” to her relationship with Percy? If she and Percy almost kissed last summer then why didn’t she bring it up? Why didn’t he bring it up? Why does she not remember anything from their swimming lessons?
“Well that won’t help,” Thalia said knowingly, examining her nails, “the only swimmer Annabeth pays attention to has lived next door the whole time.”
Annabeth felt her face begin to warm up at that statement, and it only got hotter when Piper turned from the window to smirk at Annabeth, who was seated on the carpet, “Yeah, ever since Percy developed an Apollo’s belt and a bit of abs–.”
“Okay! God!” Annabeth glared at her two friends.
She did owe them, though; that’s the answer to number five. Plus one for “things she knew”, minus one for “things she didn’t know”. There was a direct relationship between the amount of time Percy and Annabeth lived next to each other and how serious he had become about swimming, and, boy, were the results evident. Even outside of his physical appearance, Percy finished his junior year with colleges scouting him to swim on their teams.
Annabeth remembered the amount of disbelief Percy was in, growing teary-eyed after he hung up from his phone call with UC San Diego. He came crashing into her house, insisting that he needed to be with her when he picked up the phone, claiming that he needed her to be there to comfort him after he fucked it all up. He lay stomach-down on her bed and Annabeth stood in front of him, hands on his shoulders, rubbing circles into his back with her thumbs – he was so fucking tense – as she gazed down at him. He softly put down the phone to his side before pulling Annabeth in by the waist to hug her. Full body sobs shook through him as he cried into her shirt, burying his face deeper and deeper into Annabeth’s stomach, shaking his head. He didn’t need to say anything, Annabeth knew.
“They want me.” His voice was barely a whisper, and if Annabeth wasn’t constantly hyper-focused on Percy’s every move she would have missed it. “They really want me.”
“I know,” Annabeth put her head towards her ceiling, smiling. “I am so proud of you, Seaweed Brain.”
He had begun scuba diving again, and the nickname arose after he returned from one of his day trips. He had sent her a brand new photograph, same shit-eating grin hidden behind all the gear, fins flapping in the water, and two big thumbs up as he posed with a cluster of seaweed. So you don’t have to stalk my Instagram anymore, he had said to her. Annabeth couldn’t get enough.
“Visit me,” he had whispered.
She would have walked off the nonexistent end of the world if he had asked her to. Plus one to “things she didn’t know”: why did he have this power over her? Maybe Piper and Thalia would know the answer to this one, as well. So Annabeth told them about UC San Diego, she told them about the swimming “lessons”, she told them about the red hair, freckles, and high cut blue swimsuits.
And they looked at her like she was stupid.
“Maybe we should all be shocked when Annabeth graduates,” Thalia snorted, finally closing the bottle of nail polish and rolling it around in her hands. “All smarts and logic but can’t see what’s right in front of her.”
Annabeth blinked, unsure what to make of Thalia’s statement. She had equipped her logic – at least she tried to – to no avail. It couldn’t be the length of time she knew Percy that made her feel this way because when she wanted so badly to feel this way about Piper freshman year it didn’t work, and she had known Piper for longer. It couldn’t be due to Percy telling her everything about himself and the way to care about him, because she just knew those things, she picked up on all the little details. He never needed to tell her. Annabeth ran her fingers along the carpet and tried to continue racking her brain but nothing made sense, nothing made sense except for–.
Oh.
“You love him, and he loves you,” Piper said, turning her attention away from Annabeth to look out at the Jackson residence yet again. “Geez. I thought you knew but were just scared. Or playing dumb.”
Fucking hell. She had been doing a little bit of both; plus one to “things she knew”.
Piper and Thalia had left her house that night with a vague threat along the lines of Annabeth having to do something about the Percy situation before they did. She had texted them both later, asking for them to give her a couple of days. She needed time to process, to think, to evaluate all the points where she had known about what she felt for Percy without actually knowing; not in the way she needed to have known anyways. Both their responses could be summarized with the words don’t overthink it.
So, of course, Annabeth took that with a grain of salt and dove straight into overthinking. She tried to find the exact moment she started to love him (Was it when they talked about her biological mother? Drinking tea at midnight, cold and soaking wet? Or was it when he drove her around in Paul’s car, promising that he wouldn’t crash it as long as she was inside?). She also tried to find the reason for why she didn’t consider love the answer for so long (Does love defy logic? Was she scared of it?). She tried to find the reasoning behind why Percy hadn’t made the first move if Piper was right; if he did love her (Well why didn’t Annabeth? If she loved him?). She was going in circles. The bridge between the low number of “things she knew” and the ever-increasing number of “things she did not know” grew so undeniably large that no architectural design that Annabeth could ever sketch would resolve it.
Days after Piper and Thalia’s big reveal, Annabeth returned to the window nook where she first saw the Jacksons move in. She hoped that it would help her arrive at all the answers, turning all her “things she did not know” into “things she knew” because she could not take anymore unknowns. She hated unknowns. All Percy Jackson brought with him from the day she first laid eyes on him were unknowns, yet she loved him. Plus one. Annabeth had a mug of tea cupped in her hands as she stared out the window, sipping is gingerly. Before Percy, this had been Annabeth’s space, this was the space where she came to all major realizations at. It comforted her then and she believed that it would now.
So when she saw Rachel Dare pull up to Percy’s driveway in her white Mercedes with her deadly red-haired-freckled-high-cut-blue-swimsuit-under-denim-shorts combo, Annabeth thought that was her spot giving her a huge middle finger. Annabeth was projecting her own issues onto Rachel, she knew that, so why was envy still burning in her chest? She watched as Percy walked out to greet Rachel, giving her a hug from the side, before the two raced to his backyard. Probably to cannonball into Percy’s eleven-feet deep pool. Percy and Rachel knew where they stood, they had the ability to dive right in because there was no need to hesitate.
So why was Annabeth hesitating with Percy?
She loved him. People had been trying to figure out what the fuck love was since the beginning of time, through science, poetry, prose, and paintings. It was confusing, it was messy, it was unknown. Annabeth knew this. She loved Percy Jackson. Her “things she knew” and “things she did not know” were never going to be concrete as long as she loved, as long as other people kept loving. It was going to fluctuate, it was neither here nor there. She loved Percy Jackson. She knew this. That’s all that she needed. Sure, she did not know all the answers to everything involving love until love was figured out – until someone finally knows all there is to know about love. But that wasn’t her job. Not right now. Right now, she only had one job.
Meet me at your pool at midnight, she texted Percy. Percy Jackson’s eleven-feet deep inground pool was bearable. It was more than bearable, it was what she needed. She just hoped she remembered those above ground pool swimming lessons.
***
Annabeth and Percy’s friendship had helped her get better at sneaking out at night. Not that they were doing anything forbidden, at least most of the time. The two of them just appreciated each other’s company best when there were no distractions; when the world stood at a weird limbo where it felt like it only belonged to those who were awake at that moment. Annabeth only wanted to share those moments with Percy, and he admitted that he felt the same. So, those moments became their time.
Annabeth climbed over the Jacksons’ wooden fence like she had done so many times before. She was aware that Percy probably – definitely – left the gate unlocked since he was expecting her, but Annabeth needed the extra adrenaline rush for what she was about to do. She walked to the edge of the pool, the eleven-feet deep pool. The water glistened under the moon, and Annabeth knew that despite the hot summer air the pool would be freezing. She took off her athletic shorts to reveal her purple swimsuit. She dove right in, headfirst.
So much for a leap of faith. Annabeth purposefully showed up only 5 minutes before midnight, wanting to surprise Percy with her skills (best case scenario), or have him be impressed with her for trying prior to coming to her rescue before the water gulped her down (this case scenario). She couldn’t remember anything about a freestyle, butterfly, breaststroke, or backstroke. All she could remember was Percy’s hands running across her arms and legs as he held her up, whispering the technicalities in her ear as he checked her form. Maybe she fucked up, maybe this was a mistake and now she was being consumed for nothing.
In her frenzy, she managed to remember one of the things Percy had told her with his lips pressed up against her ear (why did he ever think that was the best way to instruct her on anything?). He had told her that if she ever found herself drowning, simply flip onto her back (she flipped), allow her head to float to the surface (she floated), and trust and follow the current (if the water going in and out of the pool filter counted as a current then she did that, too). Well, at least she wasn’t dying. This she knew.
As if on cue, Percy slipped out quietly from his back door.
“Annabeth?” he asked frantically before lowering himself into the pool by her side.
“I’m floating,” she replied.
Upon realizing that she was okay, he began to laugh at the predicament he had found her in. Looking back, Annabeth could see how comical that might be. He helped her up onto the poolside, trying to keep himself from exploding into a juvenile fit of laughter right in her face as he began to question her.
“How’d you end up in there?” Percy’s sea-green eyes were crinkled in amusement. “I mean, if you wanted late-night swimming lessons you could’ve just asked.”
He turned to look at her, realizing that she had been incredibly quiet. Annabeth was observing him, trying to read his face. Was Percy Jackson in love with her? She realized that she was worrying him as she saw the playful glisten disappear from his eyes, quickly being replaced by the foggy mystery that was present that night at the kitchen island when water droplets had danced across his eyelashes. There were water droplets dancing across his eyelashes now.
Annabeth broke the silence; “Percy, what are our swimming lessons to you? Were they always just swimming lessons?”
Percy furrowed his brows, but before he had the chance to just respond with another question Annabeth continued.
“Because they weren’t to me. I love you, Percy. I’m not sure when that happened but it doesn’t matter, because I love you now. I jumped into a fucking pool to show it, for God’s sake.” Annabeth laughed to herself, kicking at the water. She looked back up at Percy, but now he was staring down into the pool as if he were searching for something at the very bottom.
“I realized that I know a lot of things,” Annabeth continued, refusing to avert her gaze from Percy’s profile. Water droplets glistened on his brow under the midnight moon. “I also don’t know a lot of things. I love you and you’re just a bunch of knowns and unknowns to me all at once and I love you for it. And you don’t have to say it back, not now, not ever, because you just being here is enough. Thank you.”
Percy let out a breathless laugh and shook his head, looking up at the moon. The soft white light outlined his glistening figure. “Well, I’m going to say it back because I do. I love you.”
Annabeth took a deep breath in, relieved that he said it back because she knew that yet didn’t know it at the same time. Getting used to the unknowns was going to take some time, but if Percy was going to be there by her side during that time it was all worth it.
“Can I kiss you?” she asked, but Percy was already leaning in.
He pulled her towards him with his hand on the small of her back, gentle, and leaned down to capture her lips. Annabeth cupped his chin and arched herself into him. His lips were wet, cold, soft. She could feel the water droplets between their lips, their noses, their cheeks, their arms, their legs. When they pulled away, Percy looked down at her through half-lidded eyes, his lips reddened and slightly agape. His dampened overgrown curls framed his face and stuck between his brows and his freckles danced across his nose, cheeks, and underneath his eyes. Percy lowered himself into the pool.
“I want to teach you one more lesson, tonight,” he barely made a sound when he said it but, once again, Annabeth was hyper-focused on everything that was Percy Jackson. He took Annabeth’s wrists and placed her arms over his shoulders before taking hold of her from underneath her legs and lowered her into the pool with him. He grasped Annabeth’s chin with his index finger and thumb and lowered her lips down to his again. Annabeth ran her fingers through his wet curls before cupping the back of his head, pressing herself closer to him.
When the two parted, Annabeth couldn’t help but ask: “What was I supposed to learn from that?”
“The breathing.”
***
The summer after Percy and Annabeth’s senior year, before they embarked on their respective college journeys, Annabeth made Percy promise to take her scuba diving. The two decided to go after Percy’s birthday, now that they were both 18, so they could take themselves to the beach house Percy’s mom had gotten by the coast.
Prior to the trip, Annabeth had purchased an embarrassingly large amount of new swimsuits. Most of them were blue, Percy’s favorite color, some of them were purple and some of them were grey. Percy had also taken her to buy diving gear before they went to dinner, a perfect hybrid date. They held hands the whole time, Percy rubbing circles into her hand with his thumb. Their swimming lessons continued, and Annabeth was finally beginning to get better. It wasn’t like the other times where the two of them had said that she was getting better while they both knew that nothing had changed. It was real this time because Percy actually began to seriously teach this time (“No more whispering,” Annabeth had told him). Some lessons were just to practice all the breathing, but that was to be expected.
“You know you don’t have to go scuba diving if you don’t want to,” Percy said repeatedly, from when they were paying for the gear to as they sat across from each other in the restaurant. “I know you haven’t always loved the ocean…”
Annabeth beamed up at her boyfriend – her surreal boyfriend, Percy Jackson – and said, “Well, it’s hard for me to be scared of something that you live in.”
Not anymore, at least. The ocean had a lot of unknowns, yes, but Annabeth was slowly starting to unlearn the idea that it was her job to know everything. It wasn’t possible. Sometimes she just wanted to go scuba diving with her boyfriend without having to think too hard about it, even if he was a competitive swimmer and Annabeth hadn’t learned until last summer. Percy’s shit-eating grin made an appearance.
“I’ll watch all the Harry Potters with you.”
“Oh, you better.”
So, the weekend after Percy’s birthday the two of them set off for the coast in Paul’s white minivan (with the Jackson-Chase blessing, of course). Percy’s loose curls were overgrown, the wind rushing in from the rolled down windows blew it all across his face making Annabeth question his ability to drive with such an obstacle. His summertime freckles had fully settled in, and the two of them sang along to the radio until their throats were raw. Percy took Annabeth’s hand in his as he drove and planted kisses to it periodically.
He was going to UC San Diego to be a student-athlete and Annabeth was going to UC Berkeley, her dream school. The two schools were eight hours apart, but they would make it work. She knew that. She didn’t know all the details yet, but that was okay. She loved Percy Jackson and the unknown wasn’t as intimidating as it was before his wave crashed into her life at full force. She didn’t have to know everything. Not right now, while he was right here, kissing her hand as they drove to the coast.
#peercy#softpercy#percabeth#pjo#i don't know what the fuck this is this is just something sweet for the fucking kids okay#tumblr got rid of all my italicized text and probably fucked up some more formatting so if you want the Full Effect just go on ao3 lmaoo#mine#my writing#this ended up being so so long for no reason#i was gonna finish it later today but i couldn't sleep so i stayed up finishing it#also writing straight people as a lesbian is so weird like the disconnect.... was a hurdle tbfh
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Okay but like shrinkyclinks Valentine’s Day where Bucky lovingly completely wrecks Steve all night
Oh, I am in the mood for this. Also, I going to start putting 🙃🙃🙃 on Asks that I haven taken entirely too long to answer. This was the very last (read: first) Ask in my Inbox. Nonnie probably forgot that they sent this in lmao.
Listen. These two on Valentines Day? They go all fucking out. They don’t have nearly as much money as Daddy Steve and Bucky do so their Valentines Day looks a little different.
Steve makes some sort of art piece for Bucky. It could be a little postcard he slips under his door each day, the week leading up to actual Valentines Day. It could be a tattoo design he’s been working on for weeks now, trying to make it perfect for his Bear. It could be a few sketches that Steve had been compiling into this little portfolio over the period of their relationship.
Bucky goes totally traditional but mainly out of sheer panic and total adoration. He gets Steve roses but can’t decide between pink, red, or white so he gets them all. Steve has a sweet tooth, a massive one, and Bucky gets a box of chocolates basically the size of Steve himself. A teddy bear? Of course. A classic teddy bear too, a sweet brown one.
Bucky also spends four days before practicing cooking Steve dinner. He memorizes the steps and how to blacken chicken properly and what pans to use. He practices his plating and figures it all out...
And of course it all kinda goes to shit once Valentines Day does roll around and once he is in Steve’s kitchen turning off the fire alarm and opening windows. He’s bummed, naturally, but Steve insists it’ll make a great memory for the two of them and that he loves Bucky nonetheless.
Steve also has a couple of frozen pizzas stocked up in the freezer just in case.
Bucky’s fuck up in the kitchen makes him even more motivated to make up for it in the bedroom, so much so that they don’t even make it to the bedroom before things escalate.
After spending a gloriously long amount of time sucking on Steve’s tongue, rubbing his hands on the smooth skin under Steve’s shirt, drinking in all of those little fucking noises, Bucky shimmies down the couch and gets those lithe thighs tossed over his shoulders.
And he eats like it’s his last meal, like it’s the meal he should’ve been eating if he hadn’t have fucked it up.
With Steve’s hands in his hair and those legs trembling a little on either side of his head, Bucky can’t help but get a little heated, a little focused, a little sloppy. He loves eating his little Stevie out, loves the way he responds to Bucky’s mouth on his cunt. The way his whimpers turn to whines, the way he draws out, “Oh, Buck,” when Bucky laps at his balls or slurps at his rim.
By the time Bucky gets a fist around Steve’s cock he’s shooting off onto his own chest, Bucky’s mouth still working him over, moaning between Steve’s cheeks and milking the other man for everything he’s worth.
When Bucky lifts Steve and all his limp limbs into his arms, against his chest, Steve’s still gasping, holding on for dear life.
“You know I’m not done with you yet, doll.”
Steve might love Bucky’s mouth between his ass cheeks but he is a slut for Bucky giving him a good finger-banging. He gags at how thick Bucky’s fingers are, how they fill him up so well, how they curl and push and scissor, how Bucky’s mouth runs when he’s three-fingers wide in Steve’s ass.
“Look at’chu, baby. Take me so well no matter how I give it to you, hungry no matter which hole I take. Huh? Fuck, can’t even talk can ya? So fucked out already but look at this cock get hard again, so sensitive, fuck...”
When Bucky does slide and press inside of Steve, all hot and slick and tighter than a virgin, he spends half of said time soothing his Stevie baby because he’s so upset he didn’t get his mouth on Bucky’s cock. The other half he spends getting Steve bent up into the position he wants him in, the one he knows Steve loves being put in.
And listen-- the two of them fuck and make love more than most couples do. They can’t keep their hands off of each other and make others uncomfortable and take turns fucking the other and they...they just love sex.
But this feels like something different, a point they reach only sometimes. This is frantic love making. This is eye contact and foreheads pressed together. This is slow and deep and long. This is lips sliding along jawlines and nibbles on necks and not even kisses, just mouths open on mouths. This is nods and hands in hair and cupping faces and Bucky fucking Steve through another orgasm, one that makes him almost come himself when he watches Steve’s eyes roll back when he bears down on Bucky’s ccok.
I guffaw if you think Bucky would be done with Steve. He would gather up delicate wrists and nimble fingers pushing at his chest, would press the smaller man deep into the mattress after rolling him onto his front. Things would get a little rough from here, Steve a little riled up from feeling so much and being manhandled in such a way, would love it.
“Fucking hell, Buck come on. You want it, you fuckin’ take it. Take what’s yours come on, Buck come on. I can take it, give it to me.”
Bucky knows Steve can take it because he gives it to Steve on the regular in such a way, the littler man loving to be used in such a way. But Bucky holds those parts of him at bay, wants to keep things in that gutting pace, a savory one. He’d nip at Steve’s ear in warning with a reach around grip, tucking that creamy neck into the crook of his elbow.
“So fiery, sweeheart. Lemme love on you, hush.”
And Bucky would take it even slower, would groan deep into the back of Steve’s neck, would tell Stevie all about his pretty cunt, would talk about how much he loves Steve, would shove some fingers between Steve’s lips as he whispered in his ear.
This time around Steve would need to beg Bucky to stop, would need to beg him to come, to let Steve come. He’s slurring his words and trying his best to grind back into Bucky and can barely keep his eyes open when finally, thank fuck, Bucky starts to get a little frantic, starts talking about how he feels when he gets to come inside of Steve.
“Gimme one more? Know you can, know you can come with me, baby. God, love you so much, Steve, can’t believe I got so lucky, can’t believe you let me love on you like this, let me fuck you like this. Wanna come, wanna...fuck, wanna fill you right up, baby. Lemme?”
In the afteglow, one where Steve is barely conscious, he pokes fun at how mushy his big ‘ol Bear can get, how Bucky is only sweet when he’s about to come, when he’s in Steve’s ass. He kisses at Bucky’s cheeks as they giggle and as Bucky pulls Steve close, practically to lay on top of him.
“Love you so much, Bear.”
“Love you too, Stevie.”
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Blue Neighborhood Series: BLUE (Methydoll) - Mac
AN: All my thanks to Alex for betaing this bitch. Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out!! Hope you enjoy!
Summary: Nicky offers to help Crystal with her art school applications by acting as a model and getting her portrait done.
Crystal had only just sat down at her desk, bags still thrown haphazardly about her room, when she heard a loud thwack on her window that nearly caused her to fall out of her chair in shock.
She whipped her head in the direction of the sound. Through the early afternoon sunlight she could make out Nicky’s flushed red face, and three words written boldly on a piece of paper pressed to the French girl’s window.
YOU’RE A BITCH
Crystal bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing outright, sealing her expression in mock annoyance as she threw open her window.
“I was only gone two days.”
Nicky gave an over exaggerated sigh, throwing her head back and clutching at her chest as if in pain. “I was stuck with Heidi and Brita who kept talking about how hot MEN are.” Nicky gave a pathetic sniffle.
When her antics didn’t produce the reaction desired, Nicky crossed her arms over her chest, puffing it out in frustration and refusing to look Crystal in the eye. “You should be thankful I am even talking to you after you LEFT ME!”
Crystal just raised one judgemental eyebrow, fighting back the urge to blush. “You’re such a drama queen,” she chuckled, shaking her head.
The side of Nicky’s mouth quirked up in a half smirk. “And Heidi’s a bad liar.”
Crystal’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Dammit. “She told you?”
“She didn’t have to!” Nicky exclaimed. “As soon as she mentioned it, I knew. She never invites me over to her house, so of course you had to be behind it.”
Crystal sighed. “Did you at least go?”
Nicky scoffed. “Of course I went. I’m a good friend.”
“And-”
“Why do you say it like that? Like I did something bad?”
Crystal raised one skeptical eyebrow.
Nicky eventually raised her gaze, allowing herself to meet Crystal’s eyes for the first time that conversation, and sighed. “Heidi’s mom is pissed because I strongly encouraged Heidi to buy this gorgeous Coach bag.”
“How much was it?”
Nicky pursed her lips. “I’d rather not say.”
“Two hundred?”
“Yeah…” Nicky trailed off, “plus another two hundred,” she mumbled.
Crystal’s jaw dropped. “You got her to buy a FOUR HUNDRED DOLLAR PURSE?”
The older girl held her hands up in surrender. “In my defense, retail therapy is good for heartbreak!”
Crystal, still in shock, just nodded dumbly to herself, mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re actually the worst person on the planet. I can’t believe I’m friends with the actual worst human being to exist ever.”
“You love me.” Nicky winked, causing Crystal’s heart to do that silly little flippy thing making her palms sweat and her ears burn.
There was a beat of silence before Crystal gave a long-suffering sigh. “I’ll talk to Heidi’s mom.”
She had been trying, rather foolishly, but she had been trying to get Nicky to open up to the rest of their friend group. Nicky had been living in the U.S. for nearly four months now and yet hardly seemed concerned by the lack of bonding she had accomplished with the girls in the neighborhood.
Maybe it was a selfish part of Crystal too that needed someone else to understand how she felt under Nicky’s spell.
Because surely it couldn’t just be her.
Nicky had that effect on everyone.
“Did you at least like the college?” Nicky asked, drawing Crystal out of her spiraling thoughts and back into reality.
The artist cast her eyes down to where her fingers were fiddling with the peeling window trim, and couldn’t help a smile from breaking out.
“It was wonderful,” she said lightly.
Nicky’s gaze softened, brilliant smile taking over her features. “Stop being so fucking cute. I can’t be mad at you when you smile like that.”
Crystal couldn’t fight the blush this time and allowed her cheeks to flush crimson. If worst came to worst she could blame it on the cooling temperature and the change of season.
Her mind trailed back to the college visit, a sigh leaving her lips against her will.
“But-” Nicky prompted her.
Crystal shook her head. “But- the admissions lady took a look at my portfolio and said it could use some work.”
“So she is an idiot.”
“No- I mean, maybe.” Crystal sighed. “I know my art style isn’t… traditional, and I know that to move in the art world I have to play by their rules, at least a little.”
Nicky nodded gently. “So what are you going to do?”
Crystal sighed, leaning forward to rest her head on her hands. “I need more ‘realistic’ pieces. Portrait work is probably my best bet, but I’m not entirely sure who I would do, and I got a C in freshman bio so-”
“You should paint me.”
Crystal’s head shot up. “W-what?”
Nicky smiled, rolling her eyes playfully. “Paint me like one of your French girls.” she snickered, posing dramatically. “C’mon, don’t act like you don’t want an excuse to stare at me.”
Crystal couldn’t help a laugh from bubbling out, lighting her up from the inside out. “Can’t argue with that,” she threw back, just as teasingly.
Nicky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as if she hadn’t expected Crystal to match her energy, when her usual reaction was to blush and gloss over the flirtatious tone.
It was almost comical how long it took Nicky to process the statement, and Crystal found herself, for the first time, in a position of power over the other girl.
She pushed her luck. “Tomorrow after school? Art room?”
It was refreshing to see the impeccably put-together girl out of her element, and Crystal’s smile only grew as Nicky caught her breath before nodding.
“Yeah, sounds good.”
…
The rapidly cooling air that signified the coming winter seeped through the shoddy insulation in the art room. Old walls did little to prevent the howling wind from seeping into the well-worn cracks in the brick. And yet, Crystal had never felt more at home.
As the sun was already beginning to make its descent from the sky, she allowed herself to glance around, marveling at the expanse of half-finished art pieces that littered the shelves, and her large blank canvas that took up the middle of the grouped tables.
The door to the room creaked on its hinges and Crystal looked up suddenly, heart pounding in her ears at the prospect that she was about to spend the next however long having to stare at Nicky’s beauty up close and personal.
But her elation quickly faded as the figure that burst through the art room doors was not at all who she expected.
“Sorry, I was just… looking for Jacks…” Gigi trailed off, breaking eye contact before nodding to the floor. “I’ll just-” she motioned to the door.
“So it’s true?” Crystal heard herself say. “You and Jackie?”
Gigi met her eyes warily, holding her gaze just long enough for Crystal to see that she was genuinely afraid.
The cheerleader nodded once. “Yeah.”
Crystal hadn’t seen Jackie in a couple days, the older girl having given the excuse that she needed to practice the changes in their cheer routine. But she had mentioned in passing that she and Gigi were seeing each other.
Crystal hadn’t believed it at first, but now, looking at Gigi’s worried expression, the first vulnerability she had seen from her ex in a long time, she had her answer.
It was… different, Crystal decided.
Not bad, but not nearly comfortable.
Her ex and one of her best friends.
Crystal could be more mad. She probably should be.
But just by looking at her Crystal could tell that this Gigi, this nervous, timid thing, was a far cry from the Gigi that had caused all that pain freshman year. She had three years to grow and change, and if the way she was guiltily staring at the floor was anything to go by, she had changed quite a bit.
Gone was the cavalier, above-it-all attitude she used to exude. The smarmy chuckles and flirtatious winks she gave out like candy.
She had no doubt been humbled by her fling with Jaida being outed, however, it was more than that.
But Crystal didn’t allow herself to analyze further. They were different people now.
The heavy silence was clearly eating at Gigi because she went to explain herself, “If you want to talk about-”
Crystal stopped her with a shake of her head.
Gigi withered.
“Just don’t hurt her.” Crystal said firmly, putting every ounce of strength she had in those four words.
Gigi met her eyes finally, determination clear in them. “I won’t.”
Crystal believed her.
“Okay,” she said.
We’re good. She meant.
…
They got five minutes into painting before Crystal sighed, dropping the brush exasperatedly.
“What’s wrong?” Nicky teased. “Can’t capture my beauty?”
Crystal rolled her eyes. “Nothing could ever capture your beauty,” she deadpanned.
Nicky tried to hide the flush of her cheeks by turning her head, but Crystal caught her, smiling inwardly at the reaction.
“You need to relax. Put on some music.”
“I don’t know about-”
Nicky’s eyes lit up. “Here, I have a playlist for this!”
Crystal raised an eyebrow skeptically. “You have a playlist for getting your portrait done by your friend who’s never going to get into art school and might as well drop out now and live in a cardboard box under a bridge?”
Nicky rolled her eyes, hopping off the stool and grabbing a random half-finished pottery project off the art room shelf. “No, that’s too long for a title.”
Crystal stuck her tongue out.
Nicky just smiled knowingly. “I called it ‘songs to play when Crystal gets frustrated that give me an excuse to initiate physical contact.’”
“Wait what-”
But before Crystal could get a word in edgewise, Nicky was blasting her old-timey music.
The notes rose and fell against the unfinished clay pot, adding a strange echo to the song. Nicky didn’t seem to mind though, turning on her heel and holding a hand out to Crystal.
She looked editorial, pristine white blouse and matching pants hugged her slim figure like they were tailored to her frame.
“Come dance with me,” she spoke softly, pushing herself off one of the tables to inch closer to Crystal.
The artist had the distinct feeling of being hunted as Nicky’s eyes zoned in on her face, tracing the curve of her lips. “I-I have to-”
“S'il te plait, mon amour.” Nicky practically whispered coming closer, breathing in her air. “Danse avec moi.”
And Crystal had no clue what she said, but she couldn’t very well refuse Nicky when she spoke like that. All soft eyes and gentle French words.
She took Nicky’s outstretched hand and found herself in the leading position.
It was only when Nicky pulled her closer that Crystal noted her own drab appearance, overalls smeared with paints and bits of charcoal that most definitely would ruin Nicky’s all-white outfit.
“Wait, the paint isn’t dry!” She tried to warn, but Nicky ignored her, pulling the artist closer, the blues and oranges and lilacs pressed against the expensive fabric.
The French beauty just shook her head and laughed at Crystal’s shocked expression.
They fell into a rhythm before long, Crystal swaying them this way and that. She was surely doing something wrong, but Nicky didn’t seem to mind, peaceful smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and eyes.
She looked ethereal up close.
Her pores varied in size and the lines beside her mouth were deeper than Crystal had assumed at first glance.
She was perfect.
She was just like everyone else.
Almost without realizing it, Crystal slowed their rocking to a stop.
Nicky blinked her eyes open. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Crystal shook her head to clear it.
“Why’d you stop?”
Crystal smiled gently. “I wanted to see your eyes. I missed them.”
Nicky threw her delicate neck back in a laugh that rang in both their ears. “Awww, Crystal,” she cooed. “You’re such a sap.”
“You love it.”
Nicky just hummed noncommittally, poorly hiding a smile, and went back to swaying.
…
It went on that way for nearly a week.
With Crystal trying to paint her neighbor, and said neighbor distracting her by doing something ridiculously romantic that made her head spin on her shoulders.
They got good at it.
Danced around each other like professionals.
Like they had since the day they met.
When the painting was finally done, Crystal didn’t tell Nicky at first. She soaked up their time together like she couldn’t just throw open her window anytime she felt like it and see the older girl.
She drank in the moments right before she unveiled her masterpiece.
Nicky didn’t say anything for a long while.
And then finally, “It’s beautiful.”
Crystal scoffed. “It’s you, you fucking arrogant ass-”
Nicky shook her head, turning to meet Crystal’s gaze, eyes brimming with something so… real it nearly stole Crystal’s breath.
“It’s beautiful because you did it. Because I can see the brush strokes here,” she pointed to the tip of portrait-Nicky’s nose, “and how you changed the shade of white under my chin. And that you got the two different tones of my eyes.”
Nicky’s hand was sweeping over the expanse of the canvas, tracing the patterns and divots and blemishes that made up her being. Crystal would have scolded her for running her fingers over the painting, but Nicky was breathing in her air again, and Crystal’s head felt woozy with the rush of emotion.
Because Nicky noticed.
She noticed each color change, each shadow placement, each brushstroke.
And Crystal suddenly felt very stupid because of course Nicky noticed.
She always noticed.
“It’s beautiful because you love me.”
Crystal’s heart lurched forward.
“You don’t have to say it. I know.” Nicky turned back to look at the painting. “This is how you love me.”
“Nicky-” Crystal started, unsure of what she was going to say.
Nicky turned to her, that ever-present mysterious emotion front and center, and only then could Crystal place it.
“I love you too.”
Love.
Of course.
Love.
And before either of them could dance away, Crystal pulled Nicky in by the hips, digging her fingers into the dip in her waist and pressing their lips together.
It felt like rainfall.
Or like a promise.
But mostly it felt like love. Like a long-time-coming love.
Like the kind of love that had time to mature. That had time to grow.
Nicky’s hands cupped Crystal’s face like she was a delicate work of art, and Crystal’s nails dug into Nicky’s skin like she wanted to shatter it.
And the kiss was messy and wet because someone started crying but they were both smiling and clutching onto each other like a lifeline.
And Crystal couldn’t ever remember being happier.
#rpdr fanfiction#high school au#cisgirl au#lesbian au#fluff#flirting#s12#nicky doll#crystal methyd#crystal x nicky#blue neighborhood series#blue#mac
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Felassan/Lavellan modern AU: Bitterness
Several chapters of Inadvisable (Professor Solas modern AU) have been posted on AO3 and I didn’t crosspost them here, OHP. (Honestly, Tumblr’s blocking of external links is pissing me the fuck off, so I got tired and stopped posting. But I will try to get back into the habit when I’m in the mood. 😂)
ANYWAY, catch up here on AO3, and here is some Tamaris Lavellan POV from the most recent chapter! ~6100 words in total.
***************************
- TAMARIS -
Tamaris was cleaning up after her last client of the day when she sensed a pair of eyes on the back of her neck.
She looked up to find Athera staring at her from the doorway. She raised an eyebrow and continued sterilizing the table. “What? What’s up?”
“I have something for you,” Athera said.
Tamaris looked up once more. Athera’s voice sounded calm, but her eyes were huge and excited, and she was practically vibrating.
Tamaris gave her a funny look. “Something for me? Like a gift?”
“Not exactly,” she said.
“So what is it?” Tamaris said, slightly nonplussed now. “Did I get a package or something? I didn’t order anything.”
“No, no package,” Athera said. “It’s, um…” She bit her lips as though to hide a smile. “Are you almost finished there?”
Tamaris wilted slightly. Athera’s antics would usually amuse her, but her fuse had been particularly short this week. “Yeah, I’ll be done in a minute,” she said. “Can you make me some coffee?”
“Of course!” Athera hurried away to the kitchen, and Tamaris exhaled and finished up her cleaning routine a little more quickly.
She wandered into the kitchen to find Athera stirring sugar into her coffee. Athera handed her the cup, and she took a fortifying sip before raising her eyebrows. “Okay. What’s this mystery thing you have for me?”
Athera made a face that was somewhere between a smile and a nervous grimace, then took a folded piece of paper out of her pocket and held it out.
Tamaris took it. “What’s…” She trailed off with a gut-punch of shock.
Avise. She gaped at the paper for a second, then looked up at Athera. “Where — how the fuck—?”
“Felassan works in my lab,” Athera blurted.
“What?” Tamaris said blankly. “He — when did – how…?”
Athera did a little hop. “I know, I know, we were surprised too! He was putting away a laptop when I was getting ready to leave for the day and I mentioned you and he was all surprised, so–”
“Wait,” Tamaris interrupted. “He works in your lab? He — he works at the Ancient Elvhen Studies lab?”
“Yes!” she said brightly. “He teaches classes for Solas and Abelas.”
Tamaris didn’t reply. She didn’t know Felassan worked at the university. He hadn’t told her he worked at the university. All he’d mentioned was his concept art job. Why hadn’t he told her that he worked at U of O?
She scowled at the paper in her hand, then held it out to Athera. “What is this?”
Athera shrugged. “I don’t know. I didn’t read it.”
“He didn’t tell you what it says?” Tamaris demanded.
“He said—” She broke off with a giggle, then bit her lips and made an apologetic face. “I asked him if it was a love letter, and he said it was the most loving love letter in all of Thedas. Or something like that.”
Tamaris’s heart twisted. She scoffed. “He’s so fucking full of shit.”
“That’s what I said you would say!” Athera laughed, then cleared her throat when Tamaris didn’t smile. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s really a love letter. It only took him about ten seconds to write.”
Tamaris stared at the paper, feeling totally wrong-footed. She’d spent the better part of this week trying to forget about Felassan, ignoring his texts and distracting herself with TV or by coming up with tattoo designs for her online portfolio whenever her thoughts strayed to his cheeky fucking smile and his pretty amethyst eyes. And now, without warning, he’d inserted himself into her life.
Without warning, here he was: a tangible piece of him in her hands. A piece of paper that his elegant hand had written on — that he’d written that fucking endearment on, to add insult to injury.
“Well?” Athera said. “Aren’t you going to read it?”
Tamaris shot her a dirty look. “Are you going to keep staring at me until I do?”
“Probably,” Athera said. Her expression was oddly serious now. “I mean, I could pretend I don’t want to know what he wrote, and you definitely don’t have to tell me what it says, but I really think you should read it.”
“Why?” Tamaris said.
“Because…” Athera winced. “Look, no offense, but you’ve been kind of horrible all week, and I think he has something to do with it.”
Tamaris recoiled, scalded by her words. “If you think he has something to do with it, why are you taking his side?”
“I didn’t know there was something to take sides about,” Athera said carefully. “I thought he was just some guy you met last week and decided not to see again.”
Tamaris took a deep breath and rubbed the paper between her fingers. She knew she shouldn’t be feeling so angry about this, but she couldn’t seem to control her temper this week. She’d been feeling off-kilter, as though her internal equilibrium had been totally thrown off, and as much as she hated to admit it, Athera was right: she was being horrible, and Felassan did have something to do with it.
He had everything to do with it, really. Not that he’d done anything wrong, which only served to make Tamaris feel even more inexplicably angry.
She glared at Athera. “This is none of your business.”
Athera sighed. “I’ve been getting that a lot today.”
“What are you talking about?” she demanded.
Athera gave her a wheedling look. “I’ll tell you if you read that note.”
Tamaris sighed loudly. “For fuck’s fucking sake.”
At the end of the hall, Nare’s bedroom door opened. She poked her head out. “Is everything okay?”
Tamaris gave Athera a forbidding look, but Athera was annoyingly uncowed; she folded her arms and raised her eyebrows, and unfortunately, this was enough to draw Nare’s concern.
She stepped out of her room and padded over to them. “What’s going on?” Her eyes fell on the piece of paper in Tamaris’s hand. “What’s that?”
Tamaris hid the paper behind her back, and Athera sighed. “Tam…”
“Leave me alone, okay?” she snapped. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s the problem,” Athera said. She gave her a pleading look. “Just talk to us, okay? Tell us what’s going on. You know we’re not going anywhere until you do. Right?” She looked askance at Nare, and her eyebrows rose. “Hey, are you okay? You look a little flushed.”
Nare smiled. “I’m fine! I was just doing some yoga.”
Athera blinked. “In your bedroom?”
“Yeah, I didn’t want to disturb you guys,” she said. She looked at Tamaris. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Tamaris said defensively.
“Felassan is the guy that Tamaris met last week,” Athera said loudly.
Nare’s eyes went wide. “What? Seriously?”
Tamaris slumped in exasperation. “What the fuck, so you know him too?”
“Yes, he teaches my art history seminar,” Nare said. “Is he really the guy you met last week?”
“Yes,” Tamaris grunted. “But he didn’t tell me that he was a teacher at U of O.”
“Why would he tell you?” Nare asked.
Tamaris gave her an arch look. “Are you saying you think it’s okay that he fucking lied to me?”
Nare’s expression grew cautious. “No. It’s just — well, you don’t usually bother to talk much with the guys you meet. Not judging at all, you know I’m not,” she added hurriedly. “But you said yourself that you can't be bothered getting to know them.”
Athera tapped Tamaris’s wrist. “Felassan said you talked for like six hours.”
Tamaris glared at her, but Nare jumped in. “You talked to him for six hours? Really?” She raised her eyebrows playfully. “And here I was thinking you were having marathon sex and keeping all the stories to yourself for some reason.”
Athera giggled. “Me too! I thought she was just holding out on us!”
Tamaris pursed her lips and didn’t reply. After a brief awkward pause, Nare spoke again. “So… so is that a letter from him, then?”
Tamaris scowled, but Athera replied. “Yes, it is. I ran into him at the lab at the end of the day and we just happened to find out that we have Tam in common. He asked me to give that to her.”
Nare smiled. “Aw, that’s cute! What does it say?”
“I don’t know, okay?” Tamaris snapped. “I haven’t read it.”
“Can I read it?” Nare asked teasingly.
Tamaris tucked the letter against her chest. “No!”
Nare chuckled. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Her smile faded. “Seriously though, what’s the problem? Did Felassan do something bad?”
“No,” Tamaris said. She gulped her coffee and burned the roof of her mouth, then set the coffee down on the counter and went to the cupboard. She got a glass and filled it with water and drank the whole thing in five gulps, and when she turned around, Nare and Athera were both looking at her.
She sneered at them. “Take a fucking photo, it’ll last longer.”
Athera awkwardly tugged her ear, but Nare was unfazed. “What happened with Felassan last week?” she said evenly.
Tamaris swelled with anger, and Athera winced. “Tam, we’re only asking because—”
“Because you care, I know,” Tamaris burst out. “I know you’re being nosy fucks because you care, and I know I’m being a total bitch, but just — I didn’t ask for this, okay?” She gestured angrily with the folded paper in her hand. “I didn’t fucking ask for this. I didn’t want to–” She broke off before she could admit that her feelings for Felassan were more than basely sexual.
She took a deep breath to try and calm her rage. “You want to know what happened last week? We met up at the Neighbour’s House and talked, and he said he’d take me home and fuck me. But we ended up talking at his place and watching half of a movie instead. Then we started fooling around again, and I just — I didn’t want to fuck him anymore, so I came home. Okay?” She glared venomously at them. “That’s what happened. Happy now?”
Nare’s eyebrows were raised. “You didn’t want to have sex with him?”
“I did,” Tamaris gritted. “I — I wanted to fuck him. I just didn’t — I don’t want… the rest of it. I — it’s not fucking worth it.”
Athera’s face softened. “You like him, don’t you?”
A bubble of rage suddenly burst in her chest. “Just fucking drop it, okay?” she yelled. “I know you guys are just trying to be nice but I… I don’t want to do this again. You remember what happened with Perron. You were there!”
“We were,” Nare said softly. “But… Tam, I thought he didn’t matter to you anymore.”
“He doesn’t matter anymore,” she snapped. “It’s not about him.”
“Then what is it about?” Nare asked.
Tamaris glared at them. At this moment, the sympathy in their faces was the last thing she wanted to see.
She stepped back. “Forget it. I’m going to my room.” She picked up her coffee and stalked down the hall to her bedroom. She slammed the door and sank down onto the floor at the foot of her bed, then brought the coffee to her lips with a trembling hand.
The bitterness of her coffee spread across the surface of her tongue, and it was a fitting match for the bitterness that was pulsing through her chest. It’s not worth it, she thought furiously. It was crazy to put yourself on the line and to give your time and emotional energy to another person. Sure, maybe they wouldn’t turn around and dump you at the moment when you really needed their support, but you couldn’t know that. You could never be sure that the person you loved wasn’t going to fuck you over at the moment when you needed them the most.
Fucking Perron, she thought furiously. She still couldn’t believe he’d broken up with her right when her brother Marin was in the middle of the worst psychotic episode he’d ever had.
No, actually, she could believe it. In retrospect, Tamaris should have known that Perron was a selfish shit who would leave her the second he sensed that her attention was divided. He’d always been so fucking needy with his art, always needing to be praised even when his stuff wasn’t that good, and she’d just chalked it up to him being insecure, as many young artists were. But when Marin started acting strange and Tamaris had to keep a closer eye on him, Perron had started complaining. That was when Tamaris really should have known him for the asshole that he was.
She dragged a hand through her hair. Really, she was the one to blame for how things had fallen out. She should have kicked Perron to the curb way before he’d ever had the chance to dump her. But with Marin’s behaviour getting out of control and her parents being completely overwhelmed to the point of uselessness, Tamaris had been so desperate for some kind of anchor to a normal life.
She’d expected Perron to be that anchor. They’d been together for two fucking years, after all. But in the end, Perron had left. Even now, years after Marin was comfortably settled at the group home in Kirkwall, years after Tamaris had stopped giving a shit about Perron, the bitterness still lingered.
Now, as she stared at the crumpled paper in her fist, she realized how badly that bitterness was poisoning her. After years of guarding herself, of purposely eschewing romantic ties in favour of easy casual sex, she’d finally met someone that she liked enough to consider actually dating. She’d met someone who was clever but kind, charming but genuine, handsome and smooth and a beautiful kisser, but also an unapologetic nerd when it came to his craft.
Now that Tamaris had met Felassan, she was realizing the ugly truth of just how thoroughly her own bitterness had sunk all the way into the core of her heart.
A tear rolled down her face, and she hastily wiped it away before draining the last dregs of her coffee. It was too sweet, but she wasn’t surprised; that was what she got for asking Athera to make coffee for her.
She set the cup down on the floor and closed her eyes, feeling totally exhausted by the past ten minutes. When she was finally feeling some semblance of calm, she unfolded the note from Felassan.
Tamaris:
I can imagine your lovely scowl as you’re reading this. It would be my honour (and pleasure) to witness that lovely scowl again in person.
By the time you’re reading this, I’ll be at the Neighbour’s House having a drink. I’ll be here until Krem gets sick of me – in other words, until closing time. (He never gets sick of me. I am incredibly entertaining. And a very good tipper.)
I know what you’re thinking: I am full of shit. I dare you to say so to my face.
Yours,
Felassan
She snorted a little laugh. He was such a cheeky shit.
Another tear rolled down her face. She impatiently wiped it away, but the next thing she knew, she was sobbing.
She dropped the letter on the floor and crawled onto her bed, then curled up and buried her face in a pillow so Nare and Athera wouldn’t hear her. Fucking Felassan, she thought furiously. Why did he have to come bursting into her life and messing up her routine? Sure, maybe her life was stale and unexciting, but it was stable. It was predictable. It wasn’t a constant fucking up-and-down of emotions, not like the years it had taken for Marin to even out.
But Felassan was ruining that. With two encounters, one Instagram conversation, a few clever texts and one hastily-scrawled note, Felassan was turning her stable routine and her emotional landscape upside down. He was making her into a fucking mess with his charm and his enthusiasm and his stupid banter and his stupid beautiful gemlike eyes, and Tamaris didn’t fucking want this.
Except that she did. She… fuck, she actually wanted him. Despite all the shit she’d gone through with Perron and the hard-earned lesson to cast aside love in favour of emotionless sex instead, her stupid heart wanted Felassan, and she was fucking terrified.
She sobbed and clutched her pillow. She hated feeling this way — this throbbing ache in her chest that was forcing its way through her throat in a helpless spill of tears. She hadn’t cried like this in years, having purposely avoided any situations that would lead to this kind of bullshit. And now, after one stunningly memorable date, she was a fucking mess.
She would have to ignore his letter. That’s all there was to it. She would ignore his invitation just like she’d ignored his texts and her own invasive memories of his smile, and she’d go back to her nice boring stable life of doing tattoos and binge-watching TV and fucking random guys when she really got the urge.
But you don’t want to fuck random guys, a tiny masochistic voice said at the back of her mind. You want Felassan.
She gripped her hair in her fists. When her hands started to hurt from the tension, she released her hair and rolled onto her back.
She stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom. Ghosting Felassan was the smart thing to do. She just needed a little more time to forget him, that was all. And she could start by deleting his texts from her phone.
She reached into the pocket of her sweatpants and pulled out her phone, then swiped into her texts.
Read the rest on AO3! (I’m sorry, I just refuse to format the texts here. I HAVE A LIFE TO LIVE. 😂😂😂)
#felassan#save felassan#felassan/lavellan#felassan x lavellan#inadvisable#professor solas au#pikapeppa writes
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