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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 2 years

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Apple of his Eye

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, age gap, drugging, somniphilia, hints of petplay, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your life on campus is a dream until you meet a overly helpful tech. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Jake Jensen

A note on reader characters:

For clarity, each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. So far, we have:

Book Smart: Tweed

Below Average: Flora

Overdue: Cookie

Straightlaced: Brownie

Heated: Teach

Note: So this is gonna cap off the ‘First Semester’ in our Campus AU. My plans are to have Ransom in the Second Semester and some non-Evans characters to round it out. Thanks to everyone for your encouragement and ideas to this point and going forward! This has been so much fun.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

Rustic goldenrods and roasted amber carpet campus grounds as a crisp breeze stirs the tails of your long jacket. You welcome the dropping temperatures, leaving your buttons undone and your scarf dangling loosely down your front, a knitted frilly mess you did yourself, not quite what it’s meant to be. The unusual, the imperfect, never bothers you.

You can’t even be upset that your laptop’s a brick. A black screen unsolved by plugging in the cord you lost under your bed and a button that does nothing. You sigh, wistfully. You think of a stormy ocean and a rocking boat, your fingers fidgeting to get the feeling onto canvas.

No, you have a paper due. If it wasn’t for the dead laptop, you’d be hunkered down at your dorm typing and basking in the scent of Cookie’s baking. C’est la vie. It gives you a chance to enjoy the scenery.

You have to turn back as you reach the medical sciences building, you went too far. You finally get your bearings, with some help from a lanky boy who seems in a rush, and hop up the steps of the Student Support Centre.

Inside, voices fill the space, tutors and their pupils, a row of techs behind a round desk typing away, the smell of coffee from the cafe booth stationed by the door.

You join the queue for IT Walk-Ins and distract yourself with the pamphlets set out on the counter, eyeing them. ‘Protect your PC; Antivirus and Firewalls’, ‘VPNs and Internet Safety’, ‘Cloud Storage; Never Lose Another Word’. You never understood computers very well, never got much into them, but you liked to watch your high school friend Selisha play her cooking simulator.

When your turn comes at the head of the snake cordoned off along the desk, you step up and the man who greets you seems vaguely familiar. Well, everyone seems familiar to you. You have a mind for faces but not a mind for names.

“Hi,” you chirp, “my computer won’t start.”

“Hey,” he smiles. His spiky hair and peculiar facial hair does make him stand out. “How are you?”

“Great, but my computer,” you insist, “I don’t want to forget. I need to write a paper so I need to get it to wake up.”

He chuckles, “can I see it?”

“Oh, I guess that will help,” you lift the canvas bag you tossed the laptop in, hand-painted flowers stain the white fabric.

“Thanks,” he takes the bag and slides out your laptop, “you got the cord.”

“Oh, berries, I forgot it!” you exclaim and clap your hands, he lifts a brow at the gesture, still smiling.

“That’s okay, I got a bunch back here,” he disappears as he kneels to search behind the counter. He stands back up and guides a cord to your laptop, sticking it in the port.

He hits the power button, several times then looks it over as he lifts it. You bounce on your feet.

“I hope you can save it,” you chew your lip.

“Um, I’ll do my best,” he looks at you over the top, “you don’t remember me?”

You shake your head and shrug, the smell of cinnamon teasing your nose. It makes you miss Cookie. You peek over at the cafe.

“Have you ever tried their cinnamon buns? They smell delicious?”

Another laugh. That’s usually the response you get. People are always so amused by you.

“I know your friend. Cookie?”

You face him again, “oh, she’s real sweet. I love her. So… the computer?”

“Well,” he adjusts his glasses, “can you give me a few hours to coax her awake? I think she just needs a soft touch.”

“A few hours?”

“Sure, I… I think so, things like these could take days but you can check back by closing and we’ll have a diagnosis at least. In the meanwhile, I’ll give you a ticket to get a loaner.”

“A loaner?”

“You see that desk,” he takes a pen out of a cup and points past you, “the hub? Go there, give them this and they’ll hook you up.”

He writes on a blue slip and hands it over. You take it and look it over. “Thank you.”

“For a pretty face like yours, I’ll get it done,” he winks.

You smile big. He seems nice enough. Not like the other techs talking in dull voices to the students, glaring at screens angrily.

“I’m going to get a cinnamon bun first,” you announce as you sweep away, “yummy yummy.”

You leave the counter and go over to the cafe nestled in the corner. A girl with curly hair passes with her nose in a coffee cup as you approach the till. You search your jacket for your coin purse and order a bun from the fresh batch.

“Thank you so much,” you take the dessert and bite into it as you turn back.

Where did you put the ticket? You let the but hang from your mouth and search for the blue slip, smearing the sweet glaze across it. You catch the bun and chew, your eyes drifting over as they meet another pair. Jensen waves at you as your gazes meet. You return the gesture before heading over to the hub.

📕

You're out of breath as you reach the doors of the IT Centre. You forgot. Again. You're only happy Cookie isn't there to say it aloud, or Flora to give you that mommish look.

You burst through the doors and your rainbow converse squeak on the floor. It's nearly empty as your heavy gulps fill the silence. You suck in air and sweep over to the counter, a singular tech left behind; Jackson?

As he turns to you, a brow raised, you see your error on the name tag pinned to his striped button up. J. Jensen. Hm.

"Hey, I didn't think you were coming back," he grins.

"I'm so sorry, I was staring at my lava lamp, thinking of the shapes and… I mean, I was working on my paper."

He doesn't remark on your rambling as he turns to look around, "well, good news is I figured it out. It's your battery."

"Oh? So… fixable?"

"Fixed," he confirms and puts down a paper, "just need you to sign here to finalise the repair."

"Oh, of course," you reach in your bag, searching for a pen as you sway. You pull out a long pen topped with a fluffy end as Jensen offers a plain bic.

You laugh as you wiggle the pen at him and step closer to look over the page. 'Replacement Battery $170'.

"Oh?" You bat your lashes at him, "do I owe you–"

"It's on the house," he waves away your concern, "college kids needa save their money."

"Oh, that's too nice but I have a credit card, just in case–"

"Save it for another just in case," he insists, "before I close up, you need anything transferred from the loaner? We wipe those once returned so."

Your mouth forms an O as you scribble across the line and slide the paper back.

"I… forget it in my dorm," you smack your forehead, "oh my gosh."

"That's fine," he peels off the back page and sets it on your laptop, "you take this and bring back the loaner tomorrow."

"Really?"

"I trust you," he assures you.

"Alright," you take your laptop and hug it. The stickers across the shell curl at the corners and catch on your jacket sleeves.

"Do one thing for me," he says.

"Mhmm," you nod.

"Take care of her," he points to the computer, "she's still fragile…" he leans against the counter and lowers his voice secretively, "I did a bit of a clean-up, you wanna be a bit more careful what you're clicking on in your email."

"Ah, oh, yeah, Flora says the same thing," you chirp, "well I should go. I gotta finish my paper."

"Uh," he looks disappointed, "sure, well, good night."

"Nighty night," you trill and spin away.

You skip to the doors and clatter against the handle, barely saving the laptop from falling. You carry on without looking back as you hear a stifled snort. As usual, it all just sorta turns out for you.

📕

Cookie offers to take back the loaner for you after you forget about it for a couple days. You let her as you're not sure you'll ever find the energy. A flashback of your childhood library fines briefly flags in your memory.

Your paper gets sent off before the deadline and you return to the canvas propped up beside your twin bed. Between classes and studying, you barely have enough time left to focus on your own creativity. You took art because you thought it would be simple. Well, nothing's ever as simple as you like.

Live painting is your favourite, the instructor is chill and vibrant. There's a warmth to him, not like those theory professors who assume you don't know the difference between abstract and modern styles. There's a lot of people who assume you don't know much of anything.

Your laptop is open, blaring a playlist from Youtube. You don't pay too much attention to it as it lingers in the background as you focus on your paintbrush. You hope Cookie likes it. You told her the place needs some colour and it's the perfect size for the front room.

Your alarm goes off and signals your looming lecture. You have a million timers left, a suggestion from Cookie. She's smart and organized, your idea of order gets rather chaotic.

You wash your brushes and snatch up your bag. The music on your laptop stops before you can close it. A pop-up flashes, closes, then another pops up, then the whole screen goes black.

You hit the power button, the space bar, you shut it then open it. It's broken. Again.

You huff and grab your phone. You don't have time to worry about it. You have a notebook.

You leave the computer on your night table and dig out your keys from the tray of random buttons, wrapped candies, and ribbons. For once, they're not lost in the couch or somewhere inexplicable.

You race out as the time ticks down. You'll be late as always, just less than usual.

📕

The IT Centre is more crowded than before. Winter descends on campus over night as exams approach through the gloom. There's an air of panic but you feel fine. You never study for exams and you do just fine.

You wait in line, your headphones pushed back behind your ears so you can still hear the music but also the noises all around you.

When you get to the front of the line, you go to the counter and plop your computer on the desk. You pull your headphones around your neck. The man behind the counter greets you in monotone, asking what the issue is.

"Bernard," another interrupts, "your break," Jensen nudges him, "I'll cover."

"Mm," the dark-haired tech grumbles, "sure."

Jensen takes over as he slides your computer closer, "didn't expect to see you so soon."

"You remember me?" You smile.

"Of course, it's been what? A week? Plus, how could I forget you?" He grins dopily as you sniff the air, the smell of baking drawing your gaze to the cafe stand. "So… what's going on?"

"Um," you turn back to him, "oh yeah, I was listening to music and it just… stopped."

"Hmm," he scratches his chin and looks over the laptop.

He tries booting it up with no luck then plugs it in. Still no luck. He stretches another cord into the ethernet port and types on the flat keyboard of the computer next to him.

"Aha, here we go," he smiles as a glow comes from your computer, "just a bit of clean up to do."

"How long?"

"When do you need it?" He asks.

"Well, I don't know, I don't use it very much," you shrug, "I can just go to the library…" you think of the broken statue of Atlantis left in your stead.

"I can write you another ticket for a loaner–"

"No, no, it's okay," you insist, you don't want to put that on Cookie again, "I'll be okay."

"Alright, well," he sounds disappointed but you can't guess why, "I'll call you when it's ready."

"Sure, sounds good," you say as you dig out your wallet, "oooh, I love apple fritters."

"Wait," Jensen calls, "hey, you gotta sign off on this?"

You stop yourself from wandering away and turn back. "Oh, okay," you fish out your fluffy pen as he fills out a yellow form.

He places it before you and you quickly scribble on the line, dropping the pen and walking away. You hate the old thing anyhow. You could always buy a new one.

📕

“It’s so quiet up here,” Cookie whispers as she sits and you look up from your doodling.

You lean against Flora, who is tense with her intent studying, as Tweed chews her wool sleeve and fidgets. The girls are a welcome addition and you see more of them as Cookie invites them along to your movie nights and market lunches.

“And warm,” Tweed hugs herself, “private.”

“I like it,” Flora sneers, “no fuckheads to hound me.”

Her anger makes you curious. It builds and builds and one day, it will spill over. She doesn’t listen when you tell her how toxic the energy is. No one really listens to you as they can only think of exams.

“Look,” you lift your pad and show the sketch of Flora, vulnerable and pensive, “I call it ‘Wrath’. It’s part of my series on the Seven Deadly Sins.”

“Jesus,” your subject frowns at her likeness.

Cookie tisks and gives you that look. You put the pad down and go back to adding a few last-minute touches, the heaters above blasting down furiously.

Cookie sits up as you flip to a new page and stretches her arms. She's tired. She's awake when you get out of bed and when you fall into it. You worry for her, she works too hard.

“Ugh, my neck,” she rubs the muscles beside her neck, “I’m gonna stretch my legs.”

“Don’t get lost,” you look up with a grin, “I feel a presence.”

Flora shakes her head in the way she does of all your comments as Tweed sinks down further. Cookie says Tweed is scared but of what, you don't know. You feel guilty realising your remark may not help that.

She purses her lips and wanders away. She disappears down and aisle as you return to your mindless scribbles, not doing much but wasting the page.

The silence enthralls the girls as they bow over facts they won't recall in a month. Cramming for exams full of useless trivia. Your deadly sins will be your capstone for live drawing, your theory and style classes will be decided on the whims of your brain.

Your eyes drift up to Cookie’s empty seat. How long has it been?

"Um," you wiggle your pencil at Flora and she sighs as she sits up to glower at you. You point to the chair beside Tweed.

"Where is she?" Flora asks as her anger drains to concern.

"She went that way…" you wave towards the books.

"Let's just go check," Flora stands, "she's been gone a while."

You stand, Tweed slowly rising as she untangles her legs. You have a bad feeling but you can't name it. Flora leads the charge through the aisle and walks up and down the rows.

She stops at the end, hands on her hips as she faces you, the mighty leader.

“She’s gotta be in the bathroom,” Flora says.

“Right,” you agree, “we’ll go check.”

“There isn’t one on this floor, it’s downstairs,” Tweed adds.

“Well, then we’ll go there,” Flora says, “come on.”

You nod and glance over at the storage closet. Where could she be? She would tell you if she was going far? Right?

You go with the girls to the stairwell, looking up and down the aisles along the way. You get to the next floor and find the bathrooms. Cookie isn't in there, just some fourth years chatting about their GPAs.

You huff and retreat back to the stairwell where the hush is firmly locked on the other side of the doors.

"We should ask a librarian," Tweed suggests, "they have cameras, right?"

"I don't understand," Flora crosses her arms.

Tweed squirms and clasps her hands. She looks terrified.

"I don't like the library," she whispers.

"Oh, come on," Flora throws up her hands, "let's go."

You follow her barreling steps down the stairs to the main floor. She strides over to the counter but it's empty. You glance around desperately. You see a familiar face.

"Oh wait, I know him," you bound forward as Jensen stands at the self-checkout, tapping on the screen in a window of cryptic text. "J…Jensen," you grasp his name from the air as you near him, "hey, do you know the librarian?"

He's surprised as he turns to you, hand resting on the thin monitor. He looks behind you at Flora and Tweed and his brows draw together.

"Curtis, sure? I'm just here fixing this damn thing for him," he slaps the screen, "what's up?"

"We can't find Cookie, you remember her, right?"

"The one with the cupcakes, uh huh," his eyes flit back and forth.

"We were on the sixth floor and she went to stretch her legs," Flora explains, "then she was just gone. You got cameras, right? Check them."

He winces at her demands and looks at you. You fold your hands together, "please, Jensen."

He thinks and nods, "fine, but Curtis hates when I mess around with his stuff. Only when it's broken, you know?"

He leads you over to the desk and you walk parallel to him as he dips behind it. He stops at the computer and clicks around. His eyes scan the screen as it glares off his glasses. He rubs the patch of hair on his chin.

"Well, do you see anything?" Flora asks.

"The angles are… off, I can't see down the aisles."

"Then what's the point," Flora harrumphs, "I swear–"

"Here, I'll help you look," he offers as he stands straight, "I'm sure she's up there somewhere. Did you check the bathrooms?"

"The one on the fifth, yeah," Flora answers.

"Not the second one on the fifth?" He asks, "see…" he taps a map laminated on the counter, "there's two because the sixth doesn't have one."

"Shit," Flora spins and races away.

You struggle to keep up as she busts back through the doors. Jensen follows behind you up the stairs and you're huffing as you reach the fifth. He directs you towards the other aet of bathrooms and you hurry over. You wait outside as Flora goes in to check.

She comes out and shakes her head, "she's not there."

"Oh no, no, no, no," Tweed chants, "no."

"Check upstairs again?" Jensen suggests.

He turns and stops short as you walk into him. Flora and Tweed hover behind, "wait, there's Curt."

He waves to the librarian and weaves between the tables to reach him, "hey, these girls are looking for their friend. You know her, right?"

"Cookie," you say, "please."

"Haven't seen her," he shrugs and tilts his head until his neck cracks, "sorry."

Flora swears and Tweed covers her face, ready to cry. You hug the latter with one arm as she begins to shake.

"Tweed, it's okay, alright," Flora turns to her, softening, "let's go back upstairs and get our stuff. We should probably call the campus PD, too. Shit..." she can't help but revert to anger, "alright, let's go."

"Thanks," you say to Jensen and his friend as you usher Tweed past, "we're so sorry."

"We'll keep looking," Jensen promises as he gives a look to Curtis.

You attempt a smile and press on. You're really worried now. You trail Flora up the stairs as Tweed drags her feet, weeping into her sleeves, distraught.

As you pass the shelves and come back to the table, Flora stutter steps, "Cookie?"

Cookie sits at the table, her mouth hidden behind her fist as she leans on her elbow and stares at her notebook. Her eyes aren't moving before they flit up to Flora and the rest of you.

"Oh my god, we were looking all over," Flora rushes over, "what happened?"

"Sorry, guys, you must've missed me," her voice scratches and she lowers her eyes quickly, "I had to... use the ladies'."

She shifts in her chair and her throat constricts. She touches it subtly, her fingers lingering on one spot as she winces. You don't understand but you suppose there's a lot of people here. It's easy to miss a body.

But something's amiss. You look at Flora, she knows it too. Tweed is silent and still as she watches Cookie.

"Well, are you gonna study or stare?" she says, "jeez, let's end this semester."

You reluctantly sit around the table as Cookie ignores your glances. You look at your sketchpad and pick up your pencil. You peek up at your roommate as she bats her lashes and wiggles her nose. Perhaps, the virtues would a better subject than the sins.

📕

The call comes when you least expect it. You quickly pull on your coat over your oversized baby pink sweater with the daisies. Cookie's in the kitchen but there's no delicious smells comforting your wintertime malaise. She hasn't done much baking lately but you don't comment on it. She's stressed about exams, just like everyone else.

She looks over at you dully, a textbook open on the table. You smile.

"Hey, I gotta get my laptop," you announce giddily, "I forgot it was even gone."

"Wish I could do that," she drones, her eyes squinting, "wait, is it that guy? J... whatever?"

"Jensen, yeah."

"Curtis' friend..." she mumbles, "be careful."

"Be careful," you trill curiously, "oh Cookie, you're so sweet."

"I mean it," she looks you in the eye, "get your laptop and come home... we'll make smores."

"Ooo, yummy," you rub your hands together before swiping up your bag, "see ya."

"Mhmm," is her only response as you dig around for your keys and spin through the door.

You take your time crossing campus, the snow crunching pleasantly under your treads. The IT building is draped in white along the big arch and you take in the splendour of season. You climb the steps and enter the mostly empty lobby, it's closing hour and campus is eerily silent when exams come around.

The door shuts quietly behind you, some voices come low from the other side of the airy lobby. You see Jensen, his shoulder curled as he faces away from you. He rubs the back of his neck as another head peeks over his, a man about the same height, broader, with longer hair. The two of them are intent on a small pink chromebook.

"Dude, I'm telling you, it works." Jensen insists.

"You sure?" The other challenges.

"Yeah, I've tested it. She's what? A history major, she won't know to look for it in the programming. No cover--" he stops as the other man looks over his head and you smile and give an awkward wave.

"Sorry, I'm late," you giggle. You're used to the meaningless apology.

The stranger folds up the chromebook and takes it, tucking it under his arm, "I should go. She thinks I'm getting coffee."

"Alright," Jensen stands as he turns to watch the other man leave. You step aside as he passes.

"Sorry about that. Client," he smiles as he comes closer, you notice the furry top of your pen sticking out of his pocket. You must’ve left it there. "I got your computer all set up. I had to hand over the repair to Tanji so it took a little longer."

"Sure," you meet him at the desk, "do I owe you anything?"

"Easy fix, just... backed up is all," he shrugs, "we're even."

"Great," you grin as he places your silver laptop before you, "thanks. Oh, and thank you... at the library."

"Ah, you know, I'm always fixing things over there, what's one more?" He shrugs.

"Yeah, but you didn't have to help us," you take the laptop, "that was so sweet of you."

"Mmm," he nods and his fingers twiddle on the edge of the counter.

"I should... I should pay you back," you say, "my roommate loves to bake. I could bring you some cookies or... Or! I can paint you something. I also knit. And I can do pottery."

"That's so nice of you," he says, "really, I'm just doing my job."

"I know, I know, I'm just trying to... be more aware," you frown as you think of Cookie. And Tweed. Even Flora. You know there's something bothering them but you find it hard to ask. Sometimes, you get trapped in your own head. "Do you like anime?"

"I love anime," he brightens up, "oh, you know, I was thinking of starting this new one-- are you busy tonight? Wait, well, you got to study, I--"

"I'm supposed to make smores," you pout, "Cookie hasn't been baking, I don't want her to stop for good."

"Tomorrow," he says hopefully.

"My exam's late. Six to nine," you sway as you hug your laptop.

"I'll meet you. I'm closing so you could stop here and we can go to my place. If that's not too weird. I have a whole set-up. New sound system."

"Erm," you chew your lip. You know it's gotten a bit crowded since exams started, Cookie could use a night without your careless blathering. "Sure! Can I bring my stuffy?"

"Stuffy?" he squints.

"It's a stuffed narwhal. He's old. Like as old as me. His name is Murtaugh."

"Like Lethal Weapon?" he scoffs.

"Sort of, he looks grumpy so..."

"Sure, you and Murtaugh are bother welcome."

"Amazing. Cookie hates cartoons. I tell her, anime isn't the same but she doesn't listen. A lot of people don't listen to me, you know." You bob in place with excitement, "except you."

"Always," he assures and plays with the button of his shirt, "I mean, you're pretty interesting...to listen to?"

"Ha, you're too much," you sigh, "well, I gotta go! I love smores."

"I'm jealous," he says as you spin away, "don't stay up too late. I want to go through six episodes, at least."

"Six? That's nothing," you call back over your shoulder.

📕

Jensen’s place is cool. A whole wall of shelves lined with figurines of characters from old martial arts movies to infamous anime to the classic comic books. Where you’re more prone to losing things, he collects them. You suspect his placement of each tiny figure is entirely deliberate as you admire them.

You step back to peer down at the colourful spines of manga on the rows beneath, beside several boxy consoles you don’t know the name of. You can guess they’re outdated, displayed as relics on the more cubish levels of the shelf.

“You want something to drink,” he calls from the kitchen,” I got these sodas from Japan; green apple, kiwi, cotton candy…”

“Ooo, I’ll try the cotton candy,” you answer as you turn and walk along the large TV.

You hear the hiss and fizzle, followed by a metal tinkle as he opens the bottles. As he enters, you look up, playing with the pom poms that dangle from the string of your lime green hoodie.

“Here,” he hands you the bright pink soda in a glass bottle, “it’s really sweet. Haven’t touched that flavour because of it.”

“Oh, great, I love sweet,” you take it as he puts his on the square table beside the arm of the couch.

“I can tell he says,” he picks up the remote, standing in front of the couch as he clicks through the menu, “please, sit, I’ll find the show– ah, I almost forgot.”

He quits his browsing and once more leaves the room. You sit and take a sip from the neck of the bottle, it makes your cheek pinch. You unthinkingly drain half the bottle as you wait for him, eyes devouring the posters on the wall; framed cartoon characters and 1970s movie promos.

“Here we go,” he rushes in, awkwardly sidling in front of you and sitting heavy on the cushion beside you, dropping the remote beside him as he presents the headband. The furry pink cat ears are adorable but unexpected. “I, uh, saw this and thought of you. Is that weird?”

You smile and shrug and put the bottle on the matching square table on the other side of you, “no, I don’t think so. That’s so nice.”

“Do you mind?” he lifts them, angling the band as if to slip on you.

“Uh, sure,” you bow your head, “Cookie’s gonna love them.”

You think of your roommate. You sit up as you realise you forgot to tell her where you are. Well, she knows you have an exam. Certainly by now she’s used to you and your flaky schedule. You’ll tell her when you get home.

You sit up and touch the ears as the band squeezes your head, “oh, do they look cute?”

“Yeah,” Jensen grins, “very, there’s a mirror–”

You’re up on your feet as he points to the far wall. You brush against him as you rise and jaunt over to look at your reflection. You giggle as you take in the furry ears.

“I like bunnies better,” you say as you go back to him, “but kittens are precious, too.”

You yawn as you sit beside him again and pull over your stuffed whale from where you left him against the arm. He gives you a lingering look and his hand moves as if to touch you before retracting. He turns and points the remote at the TV, his glass glowing with the TV screen as he focuses on it.

“Uh, I’m so sleepy,” you say as your cheeks burn hotly. You felt energised after your exam, the finality enlivening you, but now you feel heavy. You reach for the bottle and take another deep gulp, hoping the fizziness will wake you up.

“You promised me six episodes,” he hits play and puts the remote down before sitting back, his arm pressing to yours, “don’t you pass out on me.”

You laugh at him. He’s silly and very close. You force your eyes wide, “I won’t.”

You turn to the screen and watch the plucky intro. You swallow several yawns as he leans on you. You don’t know that he realises it but you don’t say anything. It’s comforting. You can Cookie nestle together under a quilt on your movie nights, sometimes Tweed in between you.

The heat builds under your fluffy hoodie and you sit forward, the room swirling in the faint glow of the orbish lamps. He has the bulbs set to a soft pink hue that puts your eyes out of focus. You pull your hoodie over your head and heap it beside you on the couch as you sit back and fix the cat ears that hang over your forehead.

“You okay?” Jensen’s voice skews slightly beneath those coming from the large speakers.

“Fine,” you chirp, “this is interesting, so far.”

You yawn again as you sink back into the couch, your shoulder against his as you let Murtaugh fall loose from your arm. You blink and his arm is behind your neck. You squirm but don’t push him away. He’s just getting cozy.

Your lashes droop as the bright colours burn your irises. Again, you close your eyes. A long, deep blink. This time his hand is on your knee, playing with a fold in your sweat pants. You touch his hand but don’t have the strength to shove him away.

You shake your head and squint at the TV. You can’t remember what’s going on, there’s flashes, someone’s fighting. Your eyes are on fire. You shut them to keep them from watering. You feel the world shift and you land on a soft cloud as you slump to the slide.

Gently, you’re rolled onto your back in the surreal and shallow consciousness. Something’s wrong. You’re awake but asleep at the same time. Your eyes flutter but only give glimpses of a word rippled with confusion.

There’s a weight over, scalding breath down the round collar of your tee, your legs part as the figure is cradled between them. You fling your arm out and it hangs over the edge of the couch as you babble. He groans in your ear as you feel tugging at the elastic around your hips.

He hushes you before smothering you with a soft kiss. It’s a dream, it can’t be anything else. He pulls down the wrinkled band past your thighs, caress the tender flesh as he delicately reveals your legs. You shiver as he kneads the flesh and backs up to loom between your knees.

Your eyelids meet again and suddenly, a coolness grazes your naked pelvis, your panties clinging to your ankle as one foot touches the floor. A tingle builds to a steady tickle, twisting and twining to something more intense.

You arch your back and lift your spinning head to look down at Jensen, seeing only the top of his hair as he bends between your thighs, a wet noise nesting in your ears as you drop back to the cushion.

A spike radiates from your core as you quiver and gasp. It’s a task just to make a sound, to do more than breathe and just be.

He sits up as you once more peek out with slitted eyes. His tee shirt swoops over his head, a torso muscled and hairy stains your vision as the darkness blinds you again. The rustle of fabric and movement on the other end of the sofa pricks your ears as goosebumps raise on your skin.

Your leg is lifted as fingers glide between your wet folds. Eager, exploring, he rubs you until you spasm and dips deeper. You whine as he pokes past the resistance. You grumble and push your elbows into the couch, trying to lift yourself only to collapse beneath the inextricable haze.

He drags slick fingertips up your pelvis, pushing your shirt up your stomach, bending to toy with your tits. You never wear a bra, you hate them. He takes a nipple in his mouth, the pressure plucking at your core.

His tending trails up to your mouth. He kisses your slack lips, torso flush to yours as he gropes your chest with one hand. A shuddery breath tenses his body as his touch wanders lower. You wince and whimper, head lolling as you try to latch onto reality. It’s too intense to be just as a dream.

He guides his tip along your cunt. You gasp and gulp as you clasp onto his shoulder weakly. He rubs up and down, slickening himself and sucking in air as the room turns static. He holds in his breath as he pushes into you, just enough for you to squeak in pain. What is he doing?

He gets a little deeper and you slap his shoulder, your hand bouncing off as the dizziness has your eyes rolling back. You mewl as he reaches to fix the head band on your head, petting you as he sinks further and further. Your thighs tremble from the agony cording around your hips and spine.

“Good kitty,” he purrs as he rubs his nose against yours, “you can do it– ahh!”

He bottoms out and you whine. It hurts, the pain dull but still there. He rocks against you, grasping and groping at your side, hip, and thigh. His rhythm picks up as he loses himself in you. You squeeze your eyes shut.

You’re sleeping. It’s not real. If it is, you can pretend it’s not.

“You feel so good, kitten,” he rasps as he fucks you harder, faster, “so good. Aren’t you a good kitty?”

You murmur as your arms fall straight and dangles over the edge.

“Say, kitty, say it,” he snarls against your cheek, “say your my good kitty.”

You heave, you can’t think, you can’t move. A garbled noise rises from your throat.

“Say it,” he hisses as he pinches your stomach, flesh slapping against your pelvis.

“I– I–” your voice is not your own, it sounds distant and distorted, “I’m your good kitty.”

He grunts and thrusts harder. You whimper and squeeze your eyes shut as you tilt your head up and grit through the pain. He sits back, hooking your legs around him and holding them there. He pounds into you as he pants.

“Yeah, that’s it, kitty, fuck,” he growls as his tempo grows torturous, “I’m– almost–”

He huffs and his pace grows spasmodic. He moans as you feel warmth pool inside you, coating your walls and spreading as he fucks his cum into you. He slows as it leaks out, squelching loudly until he stills. He exhales and spreads his hand across your pelvis.

He falls onto you, hugging you beneath him as you shiver. His warmth is suffocating as he clings to you, nuzzling your hair as he traces the line of the headband behind your ear.

“J-J–” you try to say his name as your thick tongue sticks in your dry mouth, you can hardly get the thoughts together, “...never…”

He hums and kisses your cheek softly, “it was my first time too,” he says, “I love you, kitty.”

#jake jensen #dark jake jensen #dark!jake jensen #jake jensen x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #campus au #college au #apple of his eye #the losers #dc

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daisynik7 · 7 months

Text

The Apple of His Eye

Chapter 1: Meet the Parents

Pairing: Nanami x f!reader

Word Count: ~4.1k

cw: major fluff, love confessions, kissing that almost leads to something else

Summary: Two months into your relationship, you and Kento Nanami are in love. Except neither of you have officially said it to each other yet. After meeting your parents at a family party, Nanami decides to confess his feelings for you in your childhood bedroom. This is the story of how two months of the little things lead up to one big love confession.

Author's Notes: Here it is! The first fluffy side story for A Bento For Kento! Love confessions always make me swoon, so I hope you enjoy reading this just as much as I enjoyed writing it. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are appreciate as always. Thank you for reading!

The Apple of His Eye Masterlist | Next Chapter

It’s been two months since Ren’s lessons have ended. Two months since you met Kento Nanami.

Kento Nanami, the handsome ex-stockbroker. Kento Nanami, the Jujutsu Sorcerer. Kento Nanami, the lover of bread.

Kento Nanami, your boyfriend.

You still can’t believe it.

The kiss on the night of the street food festival was the jet fuel that skyrocketed your relationship with him. You were only known as Ren’s older sister who cooked delicious food and attached encouraging, and occasionally flirtatious, notes to bento boxes. Nanami was just your brother’s very serious and very handsome Jujutsu Sorcery mentor.

Over the past two months, you learn that there’s so much more to the stoic Nanami than meets the eye. Behind that somber persona is the sweetest, gentlest, most cuddly man you could ever dream of.

Seriously, this man loves to cuddle. You wouldn’t expect it of him, but he just adores nestling his face in the crook of your neck while you’re in bed together. He always offers to be the big spoon, though you secretly know he enjoys being little spoon, so you make sure to take turns. Often, when you’re standing in the kitchen preparing dinner or washing dishes, he’ll come up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist, resting his chin on top of your head or to either side of your shoulders. Even when he’s engulfed by his newspaper, eyes scanning the editorials carefully, he’ll set it down as soon as he notices you approaching him, sitting you comfortably on his lap to snuggle.

It's not just the affectionate touches; it’s the sweet gestures, the little things. How he always sends you a good morning text, except on days when you’re waking up beside each other, replacing it with a delicate kiss on the forehead. Or during your first visit to his apartment, when you spot the bento box notes you wrote him pinned to his refrigerator like a work of art.

The little things, like on the fifth night you spend at his place, he points out a new electric toothbrush, right next to his. Your toothbrush. Or the empty drawer of his dresser in case you want to leave any clothes for emergencies. It’s now full of extra pajamas, comfy sweaters, leggings, and underwear, as if you properly reside there. Then there’s the time you briefly mention how much you love these granola bars from this particular grocery store you frequent. The next day, you notice two boxes of it sitting next to the rest of his snacks, ready for you whenever you have a craving.

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall for Kento Nanami.

Thankfully, your teenaged brother starts warming up to the idea of Nanami, his former mentor, being your boyfriend. When Ren gets the official news about his acceptance into Jujutsu High, Nanami treats the both of you to all-you-can-eat sushi, which your little brother is ecstatic about. Although the lessons have ended, Nanami still offers advice and guidance to Ren about Jujutsu Sorcery, which is appreciated.

He’s even included in your weekly Friday movie nights, following Ren’s approval, of course. And, after a stern talking to from your protective brother, which involves him saying phrases like, “Use protection!” and “Consent is very important!”, he’s been much more lenient to you spending the night with Nanami at his apartment.

That being said, there are still boundaries you and Nanami adhere to. Whenever he visits your home, again with Ren’s approval, you set aside strict rules for yourselves. This includes no PDA in front of your brother and no naughty business in general, a feat you’ve both somehow manage to succeed at. Most of the time, it takes Nanami forcing himself to sleep on the couch, away from you, to avoid any temptations.

With Ren’s complete support of your relationship, you begin to wonder that it’s time to introduce Nanami to your parents. They are finally home from their summer-long vacation and upon learning their son has been accepted into Jujutsu High, they decide to throw a going-away party at their house to celebrate. Aunts, uncles, cousins, as well as Ren’s childhood friends are invited, under the guise that he’s going to a prestigious boarding school in Tokyo.

The summer season passes by smoothly and your brother’s upcoming move into the dormitories is fast approaching. He begins packing, the bedroom a scattered mess with two suitcases flung open, laundry tossed aimlessly inside. You stand in the doorway, watching him fondly. “I’m gonna miss you, booger. Can’t believe you’re leaving soon.”

“I know. This has been the best summer ever,” he replies, smiling at you. Seriously, your little brother is precious!

“You better come visit me. I know you’ll be busy with all your new friends, but don’t forget about your dear sister, okay!” Tears well up in your eyes, blinking them away quickly, embarrassed that you’re a weeping mess despite him not even leaving yet.

“Don’t worry, I will! And besides, now you have Nanami to keep you company! You better keep the tradition of Friday movie nights or else,” he warns, playfully.

“We will. For you, of course.”

“By the way, speaking of Nanami, Mom and Dad told me to invite him to the party.”

You stare at him, confused. “Huh?!”

“Well, they knew about the summer lessons way before you did, remember? So, they know about him and told me to invite him. Is that okay?”

Scratching your neck nervously, you respond, “Of course. I was already thinking of introducing him anyways. I didn’t expect it to be this soon, though.”

“Don’t worry, sis. It’s going to be fine!” He beams at you with a thumbs up, easing your worries only slightly.

The last time you introduced a new boyfriend to your parents, that relationship ended after one year. It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything malicious; it just didn’t work out. This time, however, is different. It feels different. This one is going to last.

Two months. That’s all it takes for you to fall in love with Kento Nanami.

~~~

Two months. That’s all it takes for Nanami to fall in love with his girlfriend.

He started falling the moment they kissed. That’s when everything leading up to that became real. It was the beginning of their love story.

Nothing has ever felt anything close to this. Nothing. He never used to get butterflies in his stomach. After two months, the fluttering remains; it never stops. Pet names were never his thing, but he catches himself calling her baby, sweetie, even princess. Blushing is a regular occurrence for him, especially when she surprises him with a racy text or whispers something naughty in his ear, always leading them to continue in the bedroom.

Nanami can confidently say that he has never been in love before, until now.

It may seem fast. In fact, it sounds completely bonkers and ridiculous. Two months and he’s in so deep. But even after the first month, he already knew: she’s the one.

It’s mid-August. The night before on their routine phone call, Nanami tells her that he has a summer birthday, to which she whines, “Oh no, we missed it! We should celebrate retroactively!”

He chuckles, amused by her suggestion. “It’s okay. I usually don’t celebrate anyways. Unless you count drunk karaoke with Gojo as a celebration.”

“It most certainly is! But still, I want to do something for you.”

They don’t discuss it any further, Nanami changing the topic quickly, truly not expecting anything to come out of it. The next day, she invites him for dinner. He has an unusually exhausting mission that lasts nearly the whole day, so he’s enthusiastic to see her. When he arrives, he’s greeted at the door by his girlfriend and Ren wearing birthday hats, holding a giant ham and cheese sandwich with a dozen lit candles sticking out of it. “Happy birthday!” they cheer, bright smiles on their faces. Ren pulls on a confetti popper, releasing flying bits of multi-colored paper while she blows on a noisemaker. It's silly, goofy, and wonderful.

They indulge in the ginormous, delicious sandwich, following it with dessert in the form of a birthday cake. Nanami offers to wash dishes, to which she refuses profusely. Choosing to ignore her protests, he walks into the kitchen, noticing that it’s a mess. Pans stacked in the sink, flour littered on the counter, bowls of what looks like deformed dough near the oven, and several burnt loaves of bread atop the stove.

“What happened?” he asks, concerned.

Embarrassed, she admits, “Well, I tried to bake bread. No one told me how hard it is! My dough didn’t rise properly, I was eyeballing all the ingredients, which I guess is a big no-no. I wasn’t checking on it every minute and I just kept messing up. I ended up going to our favorite bakery and just buying a loaf from there. I’m so sorry, Nanami.”

She spent the whole day trying to bake bread. For him.

That’s when he knew.

It’s not just that moment. It’s the little moments he often thinks about. The way she always sends him goodnight texts with a variety of emojis, despite him never using them himself. The way she kisses him on the forehead every morning when they wake up together or every night before they fall asleep. The way she gets up early to pack him a bento for work on the days when they’re together, in that same Hello Kitty container. How she continues to leave notes for him, taped to the cover. You’re my favorite loaf of bread. Your cuddles are the best. Those curses got nothing on my baby! I love waking up next to you.

He loves her. They haven’t said it out loud yet, but he does. She means the world to him, the apple of his eye. He loves her. Completely, irrevocably, unconditionally.

There’s no right time to tell her. He wants to do it when it feels right, whenever that is. He’s meeting her parents tomorrow at Ren’s farewell party at their home. This is a big step in any relationship, so naturally, he’s both nervous and excited. Maybe the right time will come then.

~~~

The day of the party, you, Ren, and Nanami take the train to your hometown. The house you grew up in is about a ten-minute walk from the station. When you enter the home, you’re greeted by your family. Your brother abandons you to embrace his friends, leaving you with Nanami at your side to acknowledge your parents, heart pounding against your chest nervously.

“Hey Mom and Dad!” you exclaim, giving them a big hug. “How was the trip?”

“So much fun! Wish you could have joined us.” Your mother eyes Nanami up and down, a curious smile on her face.

He bows, introducing himself. “My name is Kento Nanami. It is such an honor to meet you.”

Your dad chimes in happily. “Nanami! So good to meet you! Ren has told us so much about you! We knew he would be in good hands this summer.”

“Ren has been an exceptional student. I had no doubts that he would be accepted into Jujutsu High. They are lucky to have him.”

Your dad smiles. “We’re grateful to you and the establishment for taking him in. We’re sure his skills will improve under the school’s guidance. We know a little bit about Jujutsu Sorcery from Ren’s biological parents, who were our close friends. I know they would be so proud of Ren.”

Your mom faces you, asking, “Dear, could you please go check on the salmon in the oven?”

“Well, Mom, I actually have something to tell you.”

“Honey! It can wait, we are speaking with Nanami! Please go and check the fish!”

You give Nanami a quick glance. He nods, understanding what he needs to do. “Actually, we have something to tell you.” Clearing his throat, he says, “I am dating your daughter. We are together.”

After an extremely long and silent pause, the gears picking up pace in your parents’ heads, your mom finally speaks. “Oh. Oh! Really?! You’re dating my daughter? My daughter? You? And her?”

“Okay Mom, you don’t have to sound so shocked,” you tease, rolling your eyes.

“No, honey, I mean. Honey! He is just…well, sorry to be so blunt, but he is very…well, handsome and established.”

“Okay Mother, we get it!” you snap, immediately regretting it.

“He’s not like any man you’ve ever dated!”

“Yes, Mother, I know!”

Nanami interrupts. “I can assure you; it was your daughter who had me smitten first. She’s truly a wonderful woman.”

Your mother’s eyes widen as she giggles, “Oh Nanami! How sweet of you! My, my! You are truly a gentleman! Should I start calling you ‘son’?”

“Mom!”

“Just a little joke, of course! Ha ha ha, oh my. My sweet daughter! You got yourself a looker!”

“Dad, can you please, please make her stop?” you plead as your dad laughs.

He rubs your mom’s shoulders and pushes her in the direction of the kitchen. “Sweetie, let’s go check on that salmon and leave these two lovebirds alone, you are embarrassing them. It’s so nice to meet you, Nanami. Go ahead and mingle.” Your father gives you a small wink before steering her into the kitchen. You hear her yell out, “So nice to meet you son!”

You look at your boyfriend, cheeks burning. “I’m so sorry. I’m mortified.”

Nanami smiles. “Don’t be sorry. I think that went well.” He leans in, giving you a small kiss on the forehead, your other relatives catching it as they sit in the living room.

The next hour goes just as you expect, much to your dismay. With aunts, uncles, and cousins in attendance, it’s no surprise that everyone is curious about your handsome and established boyfriend. One uncle asks the standard, “So, how did you two meet?” And after hearing the abridged version, he jokes, “My niece is always finding ways to snatch herself a new boy toy, good on you!” You bury you face in your hands, horrified, as Nanami rubs your back affectionately.

Then, there’s your auntie, who reveals, “Did you know that my dear niece here has only ever had one boyfriend? Better be gentle with her; she doesn’t have too much experience if you know what I mean.” She says the last statement with a nudge and a wink. Before you can get up to excuse yourself, Nanami squeezes your hand. “Don’t worry, Auntie. If anything, she’s the one who should be a bit gentler with me.” She reacts to this with a loud, “Oh ho ho!” and several more nudging. God help me, you think.

It doesn’t end there. More of your relatives bombard him with questions. “When are you going to get married?” To which you have to remind everyone that it’s only been two months. There’s also, “What do you do, Nanami?” And since it’s too complicated to explain Jujutsu Sorcery to every normie in your household, Nanami decides to say he is a professor.

Bless your boyfriend’s heart. He answers each question politely, listening intently as your family continues to embarrass you. Once you get your chance, you grab him, tugging him into the hallway leading to the stairs. “I’m so sorry, Nanami. I know this is overwhelming.”

“Don’t apologize. I love hearing stories about you. Your family is really nice.”

You reach out, holding his hand. “Do you want to see my room? It’s just up the stairs.”

“Am I allowed?” he teases, eyebrow raised.

“No one’s watching,” you smirk, leading him up the stairs.

Sneaking into your childhood bedroom feels naughty, especially sneaking in with your boyfriend. Once you enter the room, you quietly shut the door behind you. Your bedroom has been preserved in the exact same state as it was ten years ago. You still have posters of your favorite pop idols hanging all over your walls. On your dresser mirror, there are old photos of your friends and family. And not the most flattering pictures. He leans in close to get a better look, laughing to himself. “Were you a theater kid?” he asks, focusing on a particular photo of you on stage.

“Yes. That was my one big solo, which lasted two minutes on stage. I was usually just in the background for all the other musicals.”

He grins at you. “You have so many talents. I love learning more about you.”

There’s a flutter in your belly, pleasantly surprised by his sincerity. Suddenly, you are very aware that Kento Nanami is standing in your bedroom, and for some reason, you’re flustered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s just…I can’t believe I have a boy, I mean, a man in my room.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just saying, seventeen-year-old me would be freaking out right now,” you laugh.

“I take it you were a late bloomer?”

“Late bloomer? Excuse me?!”

He chuckles, standing in front of you. “I didn’t have much luck with the ladies myself, back when I was in Jujutsu High.” He wraps his arms around your shoulders, smooching you on the cheek.

You look up at him with a soft smile. “Sometimes I wonder. If we met in high school, do you think you and I would be friends?”

Nanami answers quickly. “Absolutely.”

“Oh, such a confident answer!”

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. Then, he confesses, “I’m confident I would have still fallen in love with you then, as I am now.”

You’re frozen for several seconds, unsure if you truly heard him correctly. Did he say love?

He whispers your name. “Did you hear what I said?”

Still unsure, you reply hesitantly. “Uh, yes. I did.”

He rests his forehead against yours, gazing into your eyes. “Before you say anything else, I want to say this properly: I am falling in love with you. And I know it’s only been a short while, but I have never been so sure about anything else in my life. I don’t want you to feel pressured to say it back. But I just want to let you know that this is how I feel.”

His confession makes your heart race. Should you tell him that you’re falling in love with him too? It’s only been two months since you started dating. There is so much you don’t know about each other. You still call him by his surname, for goodness sake!

But you are falling in love with him. Everything about him screams love. The way he looks at you, the way he speaks to you, the way he touches you. His selflessness, his chivalry, his calm demeanor that hides a more confident and dominant disposition when needed. He is everything you’ve ever wanted and more, as cliché as that sounds.

There’s always that fear of admitting something so personal. The fear that saying it now is too soon. The fear that maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. Love means something different to everyone. He may say he’s falling in love with you, but what does that mean to him? What if one day, he wakes up and starts falling out of love? What if one day, he meets another woman who he falls even more in love with?

All of this is your own insecurity. It’s not Nanami’s fault that you have these irrational fears. And besides, who’s to say that Nanami doesn’t have fears like this too? He deserves to know how you feel. He deserves to feel the same tingling feeling all over your body right now. “I’m falling in love with you too. And I’m not just saying that. I mean it, with all my heart.” Should you do it? Should you take the leap of faith? Right here, in the middle of your childhood bedroom? The pop idols hanging on your walls are screaming at you Just do it! “Kento, I love you.”

His grip on your shoulders tightens, eyes wide in shock. Oh no. Did you say too much?

Before you take it all back, he puts his hands on your cheeks and kisses you passionately. The fluttering intensifies until you’re dizzy against his lips. Before you know it, you’re lying on your back in the bed, him on top of you, his warm mouth grazing your neck. He lips are at your ear, chanting, “I love you. I love you. I love you.” His hand reaches the hem of your dress, exposing your thighs, sliding between your legs. Every little touch sends ripples through your body like electricity.

Between kisses, he tells you, “I didn’t want to freak you out by saying ‘I love you’ first. That’s why I said I am falling in love with you. But I love you. I really love you.”

“I love you, too. I really love you, Kento.”

You continue to kiss each other sloppily, his hand caressing your inner thigh. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you can’t help but let out a small moan. He trails further up your body, fingertips brushing your hips, stomach, then chest. The dress you’re wearing is hiked up to your neck as he stops kissing you to stare hungrily at your almost bare body. Just as he begins to straddle you, there’s loud stomping running up the stairs. Immediately, you lightly shove him off and sit up on the edge of the bed, pulling your dress down. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, standing up with his back towards the door.

It swings open, revealing Ren. “There you are! We’re playing charades now! I need you two on my team. Let’s go!” As quickly as he barges in, he runs back down the stairs, leaving the door wide open.

Nanami takes a deep sigh, back still turned as you move towards him, hugging his waist. “Need a minute?”

“I don’t need a minute. I need you. Underneath me. Right now,” he huffs, trying to calm down.

“Kento!”

“I know, I know. We shouldn’t.” He turns around to embrace you, resting his chin on your head. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kento.”

“You have no idea how much I love you.”

“Show me how much you love me. Tonight. Let’s finish what we started.”

He chuckles in that low voice you love so much. “You are a naughty girl, you know that? Let’s go out there and play some charades before I really lose all self-control.”

“What, are you going to make love to me on this bed? In front of all these pop idols?”

“I don’t care who’s watching. I’ll make love to you right here, right now with this door open if you keep teasing me.”

Before it escalates, you quickly drag your boyfriend out the door and join the rest of your family in the living room, where everyone plays a rambunctious game of charades. When it’s Nanami’s turn, you watch with a large smile as he gets on his knees and pretends to lick the back of his hands, giving his best impression of a cat.

God, you really love this man.

~~~

Kento, I love you.

There aren’t enough words to describe what Nanami is feeling right now. The euphoria that courses through him after hearing her utter that is sublime. He’s intoxicated, weightless, transcendent. He’s never felt like this before, heart about to burst out of his chest. He wants to do a dance because of how happy he is right now. Wants to get down on one knee and propose to this goddess, this angel, his love.

Instead, he takes her to bed and almost, almost consummates their love for each other in her childhood bedroom. Luckily, and unluckily, before it progresses further, Ren bursts into the room.

He can’t believe she loves him. She loves him. Everything he’s done in his life before he met her is paying off in the best way possible. All his sacrifices, all the hardship, all the mundane rituals. This is his reward. His happiness.

All these thoughts are jumbled up in his head. He’s already picturing her in a wedding dress. Travelling the world with her. Making babies. Growing old together. Everything Nanami knew before has been thrown out the window. His stupid rules of not dating, his mundane day-to-day routines, his morbid outlook on life. She makes him forget about that. He never wants to go back to his life before meeting her.

Two months. That’s all it took for Nanami to be totally and absolutely in love.

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