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revasserium · 10 months

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*runs in* ISAWYOURAUPOSTNAJSJSJSJJS Omg hiii

I really like your blog! It's like yummy food for my tired brain, so I got really excited to see you're making aus!

Can I ask for roommate au with Jamil? I'm down bad for him;;;

for my 31 days of au challenge @bakedgrape

a story in reverse

jamil; 3,571 words; fluff and slightly suggestive themes though it's never actually nsfw; college roommates!au + implied fwb...; you can read the story top the bottom or bottom to top ;)

day 273.

on the last day of term, you say goodbye for the very first time — and it stings like an unsuspecting papercut found by a thoughtless dollop of hand sanitizer, sharp and bitter with the pang of betrayal.

“ah… i guess this is it, huh?” jamil’s voice is lighter than it usually is, and just as forced.

“you say that like we’re not coming back next year…” you say, though there’s a twist in your stomach that makes your throat seize at the thought, even if it is just a thought.

“s-sorry! i just meant —“ he clears his throat and tries again, “i meant that i’ll see you soon, hm?”

for a second, you don’t know what to say — you can feel a torrent of unsaid words pushing up against the back of your throat like an insistent tide, crashing against the shore of your tongue. but then, jamil is reaching out to tip your chin back, brushing his lips to yours.

“soon. i promise,” he whispers, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them, gray and bright as the breaking dawn.

“yeah — i’ll see you soon, jamil.”

you pull your lips into a smile and watch as he jogs towards the curb, kalim already waiting there for him with their family car (rich boys, ugh), a dark-suited man in shades dipping his head in your general direction before slipping into the driver’s seat. you wave as jamil and kalim both turn towards you, raising their hands.

“see you next year!” jamil calls even as you nod.

“yeah, see you!”

and then they’re pulling away from the curb, leaving you standing there amidst your three rather large, well-scuffed suitcases. you let out a long sigh, plopping down on the largest one, the shell painted red and gold, though the colors barely peak out now from beneath the countless travel stickers to places that you’ve never been to (but jamil had promised he’d take you to all of them, didn’t he?)

well. there’s always next year.

day 212.

“are you gonna dorm again next year?”

“hm? i’m not sure… kalim says that we should just get a place together, so that’s what i might do.”

“oh.”

you pause over your half-eaten tub of haagen-daz, licking your lips of the mint-chocolate flavor. jamil glances over, reaching out to dig his spoon into the melting icecream.

“don’t worry though, wherever you’re staying, i’m sure we’ll be able to find a place nearby,” jamil says, flashing you a smile and a wink even as you duck, your cheeks flooding with color.

“that’s not what i was thinking about!”

“no? hm… i could’ve sworn that’s what you were looking so upset over but… well, if i’m wrong…” you can hear the mock-seriousness in jamil’s voice as he shrugs and heaves a melodramatic sigh.

“you’re the worst…” but you can’t keep from grinning as he cocks a challenging eyebrow in your direction before pouncing on you, pinning you beneath him on the sofa, the springs squeaking beneath you as the nearly drop the nearly empty pint of icecream.

“j-jamil! the ac’s still out —“

“mm… but isn’t that why we got icecream?”

his lips chase fire over the plains of your skin and despite everything, you find yourself shivering.

“y-yeah but —“

but your words die on your lips as he sinks his teeth into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, tearing a gasp from your throat as your head tips back.

day 196.

he’s always running high after his dance competitions, and this time it’s not different. so when he comes home, his eyes limned in glitter and khol, you’re not surprised to feel yourself being hauled out of your chair and into his lap, his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as you purse your lips, card your fingers through his hair and hold his face steady with a teasing grin.

“i’m guessing that you guys won?”

“course we did,” he says, his breath still coming in short enough pants, his irises blown nearly black as he leans up to nip at your jawline, “we swept.”

“mm — i mean, you guys are pretty damn good.”

“how would you know? you never come to our competitions, even when i ask.”

you pull back with a dainty smack of your lips, pressing a finger to his frown.

“you guys could try to have competitions that aren’t either overseas or during exam weeks — then i might actually be able to go.”

jamil rolls his eyes, readjusting your in his lap even as he lets his head fall back against the sofa cushions.

“stupid exams…”

“just because some people are geniuses doesn’t mean we all are —“

your breath hitches as he narrows his eyes, a quicksilver glint flashing behind them as he hoists you up into a bridal carry and makes a beeline for the bedroom door.

“but since some other people finished their most stressful exam today… don’t you think they deserve to be… rewarded?”

a delicious shiver races down the length of your spine as you allow yourself to be plopped down on your too-narrow bed. jamil grins like the devil as he tugs off his sweat shirt and you can’t help the way your stomach clenches at the sight of him — so lithe and muscular, his skin smooth and perfectly sun-kissed. you’d never get tired of looking at his body, not in a million years, you think.

“i… i suppose one night off wouldn’t hurt…”

“mm, that’s what i like to hear.”

day 120.

“dance practice again tonight?”

“yeah. every monday, wednesday, and thursday —“

“— and sometimes fridays and sundays —“ you grin as you watch him shove a towel into his sports bag.

“here,” you say, holding out his water bottle, “i — uhm — you said you wanted to try liquid iv’s the other day so i put a packet in for you — i don’t know if you’d like the flavor but…”

jamil blinks as he pauses over his half-tied shoes.

“thanks.” he reaches out to take the bottle from you, giving it an experimental shake, “i — uh — i’m sure it’ll taste just fine. that was… really thoughtful of you.”

you hate the heat creeping up your cheeks as you turn back to your studies.

“it’s nothing. they had them at the farmer’s market i passed by this morning so…”

“uhm… will you be… up… when i get back?”

your head snaps up as you turn to look at him, eyes wide. fire courses through you, followed quickly by the sobering cool of uncertainty but still. you gulp and lick your suddenly very chapped lips.

“i — i don’t know… may… maybe?” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, casting your eyes back at your half-written notes, your mind already spinning over the calculations of how long it’d take for you to finish them properly.

memories from the past few weeks flood through your mind and you can’t help the twisting coil of tension thrumming at the base of your belly.

“well… i’ll text you later when i’m on my way back then,” jamil says, double-knotting his sneakers and flashing a grin your way. he gives you a two-fingered salute before he’s off and out the door, leaving you very nearly squirming in your seat at the mere thought of ‘later’.

day 101.

the third time it happens, neither of you can blame the alcohol. there was no party this time, no crush of ill-dressed bodies, no too-loud music and too-cheap beer. this time, there was just you and him and a shared bowl of under-salted popcorn, the lights off, a rerun of some movie both of you have watched at some indefinite point in time.

you don’t quite remember who made the first move — maybe it was you, when you’d coiled your legs under you, pressing your knee to the outside of his thigh and leaving it there. maybe it was him, when he’d rested his arm along the back of the sofa and let his fingers tangle absently in your hair.

maybe it was the moment of breath between one scene and the next, when the screen had gone miraculously dark and left nothing but the imprint of light behind both your eyes and before either of you could blink it away, your lips had found each other.

there’s nothing to blame this time but yourselves and each other, no questions to ask but the ones you’d already answered — right here, right now, because it feels good, because it feels right.

you fall asleep tangled in each other’s limbs, half beneath the silken covers of jamil’s brand new sheets.

and when you both wake up this time, it’s to the warmth of each other’s arms, the steady of one another’s breaths. jamil doesn’t pull away and you don’t try to think of something casual to say. instead, you both just look at each other and jamil grins.

“so… breakfast?”

you laugh, letting your head thump back onto his uber-plush pillows.

“yeah. that sounds fantastic.”

day 75.

the second time it happens, you blame the alcohol. you blame the crush of ill-dressed bodies, the too-loud music and the too-cheap beer. who’s idea was it to host a house party in your dorm room of all places anyway? and why is jamil’s entire dance crew suddenly here? hooting and hollering and grinning knowingly in your direction, a few of them even tossing you obvious winks.

as if they knew.

do they know?

you curl into yourself, press your body against the cool of the wall and toss back your drink, grimacing at the taste. whatever jamil had put in the punch bowl originally, there’s no question that it’s since been spiked with maybe a dozen different alcohols. and the mixture is fowl as it burns through your chest into your stomach.

the room spins, and eventually, you find yourself being pressed up against the back of your bedroom door, the party still booming along outside.

“f-fuck —” you fist your fingers in jamil’s long hair and tug; he lets out a hiss as his head jerks back, but even in your alcohol-induced haze, you can see the desire burning bright within him.

“sorry — did i —?”

“no — just f-feels good —” you bury your face in his shoulder, your body going soft and languid in his arms even as he slots a leg between your thighs to keep you still against the too-thin door. your hips ruck down against him and he lets out a thick groan at the way you shake against him.

“yeah? g-good… i like that —” he tugs you back with him and the pair of you topple onto your bed, all desperate fingers and dirty hands, sloppy lips, taking what you can, each from the other as if your bodies were endless things. and like this, with his hand pinning your wrists above your head, his gasping breaths bursting by your ear, you think they just might be.

the next morning, you wake up to an empty bed and cold pancakes on the kitchen counter.

day 47.

“why don’t you just talk to her about it?” kalim asks.

jamil frowns, running through his cooldown stretches, his eyes focused on his own form in the mirror even as kalim glances over at him.

“because — what’s there to talk about? i mean — it was just… one of those things.”

kalim shrugs, turning back to the mirror as well.

“if you say so but… it seems like you wanna talk to her about it.”

“it’s fine.”

“till it happens again.”

“it’s not gonna happen again.”

kalim slates him a look; jamil scowls even harder.

“if it does —” kalim’s voice is light as they both pack up their stuff and click off the lights to the dance studio.

“i said its not gonna happen again,” jamil snipes, readjusting his bag on his shoulder and digging out his phone. your message thread is pulled up and he’s halfway through the sentence — on my way back — before he catches himself and shoves his phone back into his pocket.

kalim grins, looking a bit too smug as jamil clears his throat and tries to play it off as if nothing’s happened.

“if it does… you should make her breakfast the morning after.”

“w-why the hell would i do that?”

kalim laughs, “because! then she’ll know that you might want to spend more time with her — time when you’re not —”

“okay! okay — ugh… but like… what do i even make her for breakfast anyway?”

kalim looks much, much too pleased with himself as he peers into jamil’s face.

“how about pancakes?”

day 31.

the first time it happens, it’s barely more than a month into your co-habitation. it’d been a not-quite-accident kind of accident. it’d been one of those rare nights when jamil doesn’t have dance practice and you’d finished all your work early.

“wanna play a game?”

jamil’s smile had been viper-sweet and just as dangerous.

“only if drinks are involved.”

you roll your eyes but agree.

“never have i ever.”

jamil shrugs, “sure. we drink if we’ve done the thing, right?”

you nod, pouring a row of malibu shots. jamil grimaces.

“why malibu?”

“cause — it’s sweet and it’s cheap and it’s the only thing we had in the cabinet.”

“fair. alright — you go first.” jamil pulls a glass towards him, his eyes fixed on you. he watches as you swirl your own shot glass with a contemplative look on your face, and he wonders if you know how terribly tantalizing you look.

so… he might’ve caught himself staring a few times right after you’d gotten out of the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, your hair tracing water down the bare skin of your shoulders and back. and he might’ve lingered over your uncapped bottle of perfume, swallowing hard as he catches a whiff of the vaguely floral fragrance, the base warm and woody and dizzying.

“never have i ever… gone to three different countries in one month.” your smile, when he finally fixes his gaze on you again, is nothing short of wicked.

he narrows his eyes as he takes his shot, “that’s not fair — you know i have to travel for my dance crew’s international competitions.”

you roll your eyes, “yeah, and i’ve never been to half the places you’ve been so…”

“i’ll take you with me one day,” he says, the words out of his mouth before he can stop himself. you cock your head as you stare at him, and then you raise your already refilled shot glass.

“i’ll hold you to it then.”

jamil refills his own glass and downs the shot.

“never have i ever… been walked in on after taking a shower.”

“hey! and who’s fault is that?”

jamil smirks, shrugging nonchalantly as you take your shot, quick and vindictive.

“fine — never have i ever walked in on someone after they’d just taken a shower.”

jamil takes his own shot in stride, swallowing down the burn with a wide, satisfied smile.

so it goes on like this, the never-have-i-evers getting more and more ludicrous till you’re both drunk and laughing and more than a little hot beneath the collar.

“never… have i ever… hm…” you muses, your head lolling back as you cast your eyes up at the ceiling, as if an interesting thing not to have done might be written there.

“what’s something… super cliché?” jamil wonders aloud, letting his gaze flicker up as well.

you pause for a moment before dissolving into a pile of red-faced giggles.

“oh! never have i ever hooked up with a roommate! there — that’s a good one.” you smile wide and sure, looking proud of your own accomplishment in thinking up this thing that you’re certain he’s done.

jamil licks his lips and swallows, his eyes meeting your as he lets out a breath.

“i haven’t either.”

the air between the pair of you thickens as your eyes flash down towards your empty shot glass.

“oh.”

“but i guess it is kinda cliché, huh…” he says, setting down his glass and dragging a thumb along his bottom lip before popping into his mouth.

he hears rather than sees the way your breath hitches and he can’t help the pleased purr rumbling through him at the thought of being able to do this to you.

“y-yeah… i guess it is…” you lick your own lips, “makes you feel a little left out, doesn’t it?”

jamil hums in response, and it isn’t till you look up again that you realize he’s leaned over the graveyard of now-emptied shot glasses, his lips hovering inches from your own.

“but how about we change that, hm?”

day 15.

it only takes two weeks for one of you to walk in on the other in the bathroom, and all things considered, it was kind of a miracle that it hadn’t happened sooner. the bathroom door doesn’t really lock and jamil had been too preoccupied with scrolling through the music for their next showcase to see the tell-tale strip of light beneath the door that usually indicates that the bathroom is currently occupied.

when he pushes through, it’s to find you stepping out of the shower, the steam still rising from your skin in thick, white wisps, your hand reaching for the towel on the rack.

“wh —”

jamil stares, drop-jawed and dumbstruck as his eyes rake over your very, very naked body, the music still thumping from his large headphones as he blinks.

you scream.

he slams the door shut.

15 minutes later when you leave the bathroom, your cheeks flushed a deep shade of maroon, your hair still damp, but your body now covered in a long t-shirt and sweats, neither of you says a thing.

day 3.

three days in and you have to admit that it’s kind of nice, having a super rich trust fund boy as your roommate. if nothing else, all the furniture he’s brought along is gorgeous — from the thick persian rugs to the tasteful suede sofa, you very quickly find yourself living in a dorm that looks like it might have belonged in the pages of a crate & barrel magazine spread.

“but apparently, his cousin’s family is even better off —” one of your friends had informed you after you’d looked up jamil’s family online, very quickly finding the wiki page that links him to the al-asim family.

“oh yeah? what do they even do?” you squint at the wikipedia page detailing the al-asim family legacy.

“i think something to do with… water filtration?” your friend peers over your shoulder as you scroll through the page before clicking back to google. she tugs your phone out of your hand and quickly types something into the search bar before making a gagging noise and turning the phone results back towards you.

“holy shit.”

“holy is right,” your friend had said.

“with a net worth like that… what the hell are they doing in school?” you ask, your eyes wide as you look back up.

your friend shrugs, a wicked grin twisting her lips as she leans over the library table and whispers in your ear —

“but y’know if you can bag jamil you’ll be set for life!”

you flush and shove her away, “shut up! we’re just roommates!”

your friend tuts, “plenty of people end up hooking up with their roommates — it’s a literal cliché at this point.”

you roll your eyes, “well not for us, it won’t — and e-even if we do… there’s a long way between ‘hooking up’ and bagging someone for life.”

your friend giggles, batting her lashes floridly at you, “never say never!”

day 1.

“o-oh! hi — sorry, you must be…”

jamil frowns, turning around at the sound of your voice.

“jamil viper…” he says as his eyes land on you for the very first time, taking in the three large suitcases gathered around your legs, and the light blush dusting your cheeks from what he assumes is the exertion of having wrangled them down the too-long hallway.

“yes — right…” you purse your lips, tucking a strand of hair behind your ears.

“and you must be my new roommate, right?” jamil says, recovering from his momentary shock to offer you his hand.

pretty, is his first thought, smells like flowers, is his second.

you beam up at him, nodding.

“it’s lovely to finally meet you!”

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