#i wanted to draw more but i should probably work on passing this semester for now FOR NOW

[levbolton]

Sometimes i like to make myself sad by thinking about a possible ending for Blue Period, like how long will it be? 17 volumes? 20? 25? For how long will we experience this series? I don’t think it’ll go to 30 though, I can see the next years of Yatora’s school, he will have his debut at some point, he will struggle to get some image and clout, maybe he will never attain what he wants

But he will at some point graduate, probably. Thanks to nomarks i don’t see him dropping out anymore despite geidai being uncomfortable, but there’s also murai(-sensei) that is right now taking care of Yatora’s degenerative self esteem, i don’t think it’ll cure everything if Yamaguchi wants to draw *all* of yatora’s undergrad, there’s still 2 and a half years left of that and i doubt Yatora’s depression can be cured with a few nice words.

Right mow it’s this summer break arc, if Yamaguchi doesn’t go on an unexpected hiatus to work on something (like she did last year) we might see the end of this around summer 2023 i think, around august we should return to the second semester.

I can’t fanthom the continuation or the ending for Blue Period, Yamaguchi’s not the deep kind of author with foreshadowing details on the background and such, maybe it’ll be some reference to chapter one, maybe there’ll be art teacher yatora or freelance artist yatora and one of his paintings will inspire another one to pursue art as mori’s did to him (it often happens in this manga category to pass on the passion idk)

He looks up at the sky and says « this was my blue period »

Personally i headcanon yatora the kind of person to go for postgrad and a phd in his studies but for that he needs money so idk if it would happen in canon. I don’t know…

Anyway before the end we should see mori again (i swear i will break bones if the ending is her and yatora getting reunited like ajsbndjsns don’t do this yamaguchi don’t). We also need to learn the reason Murai hates Inukai, see Hashida’s international travel (and them interacting in canon come on yamaguchi grant us this fanservice), I’m curious if Yatora would end up going with him since Yatora’s broke (same) we need to see Yuka again (and the younger brother) more of Maki and Fumi, maybe Fuji will appear again who knows, I wonder if we’ll see ooba again, what unexpected role will saeki play in the future, Koi-Sumida-Utashima should return bcs it’s been so long, and we I need to see Yotasuke wearing something else other than checkered shirts bought by his mother (pls paint your nails black and do eyeliner)

Also i hope blue period makes an artbook that’s ctually an artbook with drawings and not an essay exclusively in japanese (the exposition one) or either overpriced (like the museum one actually it’s affordable in japan but outside it spikes 3 times in price)

#blue period #yotasuke takahashi #yaguchi yatora #murai yakumo #hashida haruka #blue period manga #blue period anime #tsubasa yamaguchi

[mstrchu]

recently learned that i am not immune to instagram ads ☠

#dislyte #nezha #ao bing #apollo #actually im not like 100% sure how dislyte's lore works ik they also have their own like #names #i usually scroll past ads p fast on reels but they flashed me the NEZHA and i was like hello #downloaded it to check out the design #and then i actually rolled him so that was the end of the line for me. #but also the character design in this game is pretty crazy!!!!!!! #they got like loki and chang'e and lots of others #they also have many different body type character models which is pretty cool? not used to having that for gacha games #the voicelines r... cringe... but it's ok... #this is by far the most cringe iteration of ao bing but the horns.... the spine/tail..... i am looking... #nezha (li ling???? @_@) also has some pretty cringe vcs but his pants say 转生恶童 in giant text which is so funny that it makes up for it #and love love love the pink #转身恶童 = like... reincarnated bad boy LMFASOOO #apollo is just very orange #i wanted to draw more but i should probably work on passing this semester for now FOR NOW #art tag #if u made it down here we're now legally married #oops *生 for that last part i was typing too fSt

[therealvalkyrie]

exactly the spring

Pairing/setting: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Fem!Reader, college!AU

Summary: Reserved biology student Ushijima finds himself falling in love when you, an adorably disorganized art student, wander into the greenhouse.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: fluff, kissing

AN: Hi!! So, the inspiration for this one sprang from the beautiful, sexi brain of Emme ( @doinmybesthere ) way back in MARCH ahem anyway, it's done! I hope it's just as soft and intimate as you envisioned<33 Also, big shoutout to my beautiful friends Arobi ( @daqueenobooty ) and Cee ( @spacelabrathor ) for being wonderful betas and giving me such kind comments:) I hope you enjoy, and as always don't be shy about leaving comments or coming to chat! Be kind to yourselves and others.  ~valkyrie

p.s. check out this amazing art that @/54prowl made of plant boy ushi!! :D

Plants don’t talk back, Ushijima learned as a toddler. He’d babble to them in nonsensical phrases as his mother worked in the garden, and they’d only sway in the wind and listen, waxy under his chubby fingers.

A volleyball doesn’t talk back, either, not even through its bounces and echoes on hands and hard surfaces. It doesn’t listen as easily as plants, but can be herded and shaped like putty into a winning thing if you touch it right. This, Ushijima learned at his father’s hand and carried with him through childhood and adolescence.

The joy and puzzlement of you is that you do both. You listen so intently and openly with your steady eyes and soft body as the words pour out of him. And then, you reply. With your clear voice and new perspective, you offer something new. You offer companionship.

It was the second week of spring semester that you wandered into the greenhouse, eyes lit by the sun and sketchbook under one arm. Ushijima was repotting a large fern, dirt up to his elbows as he kneeled on the floor. He barely gave you a second glance, preoccupied with nestling the plant’s root system comfortably.

You settled a short distance away, crossing your legs to sit on the tile floor in front of an orange tree to sketch its still-closed flower buds with charcoal pencils. He kept working as you did, the sun sliding across glass, shadows shifting into the early evening of winter. When the sun was threatening to set over the city skyline — even with the greenhouse where it sits on the roof of the biology building — he turned to tell you he was closing up, only to find you gone. In your place, sitting on the wooden table that held newly planted basil and sage, was a drawing.

It was a single branch, detailed in shades of charcoal down to the last dewdrop. At the bottom, looping handwriting scrawled, “thank you for the peace.”

That night, he tacked it up above his desk in his dorm next to the postcard from Tendō and hoped you’d come back.

And you do, a couple of days later, on a Saturday. He looks up from where he’s filling in the logbook, this time, catching your gaze and holding it for a moment before you break away to survey the room. Today, he thinks you looked breathtaking. You’re wearing a long, flowing skirt and a sweater that makes him want to feel how soft it is, and how soft you are in it, and by the time his brain catches up with his thoughts, he’s been staring too long and your eyes have wandered back to him. It’s raining, today — it never really snows in this city, he’s learned — and shadowy droplets play across your face as they drip down the greenhouse’s arched glass ceiling, highlighting the curve of your cheekbone and making your eyes glow softly.

He clears his throat and looks back to the thick spiral-bound book on the table before him. Sometimes, when he meets people for the first time, he knows he can come across as intimidating. That worked out for him in high school and on the volleyball court, but in his adulthood, it’s been more of a hindrance than a help. It makes it… difficult to make friends here, where he doesn’t already know anyone.

And the last thing he wants is to scare you away. The last thing he wants is to break the peace you’ve apparently found here.

Which is why he barely dares to breathe when he looks up to find you approaching him where he’s perched on a sturdy wooden stool.

“Hi,” you smile and lilt, and god if it isn’t the most beautiful word Ushijima’s ever heard, if it isn’t the prettiest smile he’s seen.

He doesn’t respond, doesn’t want to scare you away.

“Uhm,” you start again, when the silence makes it clear he’s waiting for you to speak, “I have an art assignment,” you start digging around in your shoulder bag as you speak, “to draw a, um, what’s it called?”

“I don’t know.”

You pause in your rifling and pin him with such a sunny smile it makes his knee start bouncing. And you laugh, too, which officially replaces your “hi” as the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Ha, you’re funny,” you resume digging, “it was um, pretty leafy and... tropical, I think? Oh! Here.” Triumphantly, you produce a wrinkled paper from your bag. It’s the first imperfect thing Ushijima’s found out about you, that you’re shit at keeping your belongings organized, and he files it away for later reference. You hold the paper in front of your face and squint slightly to read in the shifting light. “Canna indica.”

Canna indica, native to tropical climates, notable as a minor food crop for South American Native populations for thousands of years.

“And I was told that you have it, here, in the greenhouse.”

Ushijima nods and finds himself relieved that this is what you’re asking him. Plants, he can do.

“We do. Would you like me to show you?”

“Yes, please,” you also sound relieved, like he’s provided the solution to every problem you’ve ever had.

He unfolds himself from the stool, setting down his pen as he goes. You take a step back and look up at him mildly, as though you hadn’t realized quite how huge he is.

“This way,” he indicates, leading you deeper into the maze that is the biology department’s greenhouse. The winding path back to the tropical room gives him a moment to sink back into the earthy peace of being here, even if now there’s someone sharing that peace.

The temperature change from the warm main greenhouse to the balmy tropical room prompts Ushijima to shed his flannel outer layer, hanging it on the nail hammered by the door while you step in behind him.

“Whew,” you exhale, shrugging off your soft cardigan as well, “it’s hot in here.”

Ushijima hums in agreement and tries not to look too hard at the patch of skin revealed by your cropped tank top. Canna indica isn’t too far into the room, so he just gently moves past draping leaves and ceramic pots.

“Here,” he stops, holding back leaves for you. He stops breathing again when you duck under his arm and end up so close in the narrow aisle that he can smell your shampoo. The moment passes, and he can breathe again when you breeze past him and squat down to peer at the bright, waxy red leaves of your subject.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and he silently agrees.

You’re leaning so close to the plant he’s afraid you might topple over when you make a noise of realization and sit back on your butt to rifle through your bag once again. Ushijima knows he should probably leave you to it, but he’s glad he waited just an extra minute when you pull out a pair of glasses and pop them on your face. Adorably.

“That’s better.” You’re looking back at canna indica, now, at a normal distance.

He’s figured you’ve forgotten he’s there when you start to pull out pastels from your seemingly bottomless bag, so he turns to leave you.

A soft, “hey,” calls him back to you, however, and he’s met by your face glowing eerily in the shifting rain-light. “Thank you for your help.”

“You’re welcome.”

When he locks up that afternoon, he finds another charcoal drawing waiting for him on the table near the door, this time of his favorite agapanthus africanus. No note, this time, but he attaches all the sounds he heard from you today in its place. He also finds your cardigan forgotten next to where you were sitting and carefully folds it for when you come back.

The drawing joins the orange branch on his wall-- an odd starter garden, he thinks, but all the more precious because it came from you.

The next time he sees you isn’t in the greenhouse, but instead at a cafe a couple of blocks away, two weeks later. He’s walking past, gym bag slung over his shoulder, when he hears your laugh ring out across the outdoor seating area. His eyes find you, head tipped back in sending peals of mirth into the lively spring air. It’s the first truly warm day of the season, though you and your companion are the only patrons sitting outside, and the sun catches on your glasses sat atop your head.

Your friend says something apparently hilarious, because your giggles redouble, and an honest-to-god snort pushes out of your nose. Ushijima catalogues it in his ever-growing list of sounds you make, and pauses at the crosswalk, halfway turned back to keep one eye on you and one on the light. If you were alone, he might’ve approached you and told you that he still has your sweater in the greenhouse, waiting on a shelf between succulents, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your— date?

He isn’t sure, but the person sat there with you seems like someone you might date. Clearly also an art student, judging by the carefully disheveled blue hair and combat boots. Are you the type to date someone with blue hair? Unlikely, he decides. You seem too… bright. Too floaty to be so concerned with looking like you don’t care how you look.

Ushijima’s still debating whether you find blue hair attractive when the crosswalk light begins its countdown and he starts across the street. And he almost makes it all the way across, too, when a voice calls—

“Wait! Hey!”

He turns partially because it sounds urgent enough that it might be an emergency, and his grandmother would roll in her grave if he remained a bystander to some horrific accident. But it’s you, standing up from your seat and waving him back over. He glances at the crosswalk countdown, which lights up red as it ticks from four to three, then turns and jogs back towards you, waving a hand apologetically to the cars waiting at the light. You meet him at the metal fence around the cafe seating area, and now that you’re standing, he can see you’re wearing a yellow sundress that cuts off at your calves and drapes over your hips like the fabric was spun from pure light.

“Hello.” Ushijima talks first this time because if he doesn’t refocus his brain on something else he knows he won’t be able to stop staring.

“Hi! Sorry about that, uh, and I’m sure you have places to be, but, um, did I leave my cardigan at the greenhouse? I can’t find it, and I know I have a tendency to forget things, so,” you finish with a laugh, one hand fiddling with the rings on the other.

“Yes, you did. I put it on a shelf in case you came back.”

“Oh! That’s great!” You sound relieved, and Ushijima’s suddenly very grateful he didn’t take it down to the bio department’s lost and found like they’re technically supposed to. “Is there maybe a time I can come pick it up? When you’ll be there?”

“I’ll be there all day tomorrow, opening at nine.” 

He can’t tell if he sounds a little too eager, and he’s about to soften his meaning by telling you that they’re open today, too, and anyone can hand you a sweater, but you’re already smiling big and sunny and telling him,

“I’ll see you at nine, then. Do you drink coffee?”

He doesn’t; his coaches have always told him that caffeine can only harm his athletic performance.

“Yes, I do.”

“Then I’ll see you at nine, with coffee.”

Ushijima says goodbye and turns to wait at the crosswalk again while you swirl your way back to your seat and pick up your conversation with your friend. He can feel two pairs of eyes on him as he crosses the street, red numbers blinking down from ten, and can’t help but turn to look back as he steps onto the opposite sidewalk. Where your friend tactfully looks down into their cup of tea, you catch his eye with yours and wave. He lifts his hand halfway in a goodbye before an eighteen-wheeler stops at the intersection and blocks you from him.

Ushijima’s normal work attire is typical of an average agricultural biology student accustomed to being up to their elbows in dirt every day: practical cargo shorts, dirt-stained but sturdy sneakers, a “plant dad” t-shirt (a gift from Tendō when they’d said their goodbyes and gone away to college), and a soft cotton flannel. He’s usually satisfied with this for his shift at the greenhouse, expecting to be mud-covered at least up to his wrists by the end of the day.

But today… Today, he pauses in the dorm bathroom to scrub his face raw, and he clips and shapes his nails like his mother used to do for him every Saturday. He normally only does it before tournaments, now, and it calms his nerves to feel prepared for a Big Event, even if that event is only handing you your gently pilled cashmere cardigan and receiving a coffee he won’t drink in return.

The air that morning is heady with spring, earthy and alive, reminding Ushijima of lying beneath the hedge along his mother’s garden to pass notes to the girl next door. He was seven and she was nine, so naturally she knew everything he didn’t. She knew about the planets and why worms live in dirt and how to spell the word “catastrophe,” and Ushijima would’ve bet his whole weekly allowance that she was the coolest person in the world, if he knew what betting was. (She did, and once bet him half an ice cream sandwich that he couldn’t climb the oak tree in his backyard all the way to the top. He did, and then twisted his ankle on the way down, and she brought him an ice cream sandwich every day for a week as an apology.) She was all shiny, long black hair and dark eyes and fast words, nothing like the spring blooming around him.

You, on the other hand, are exactly the spring.

He stops at his favorite pastry place on the way to work to pick up two fresh cream donuts. The line is just dwindling from the height of the morning rush, so he manages to make it to the biology building just five minutes before he normally does.

Morning sun sends rainbows through the automatic misting spray as Ushijima unlocks the greenhouse door, letting a burst of humidity out into the rest of the building. The spiral-bound log book is there on the desk, a thick parchment bookmark sticking out from where whoever closed last night marked the page. 

Ushijima places his backpack and pastry bag on the desk and reaches to hang his key on its hook just when there’s a knock on the door.

“I know I’m early,” you start, edging your way into the room with a paper coffee cup in each hand. “But I saw it was already open, so...”

Ushijima smiles despite himself. In their second year Oikawa Tooru had told him that his smiles can be unnerving, but he can’t help it right now. You look so lovely today, in jeans and a silky tank top, with a certain morning tenderness in the way you hold yourself.

“It’s okay, come in. I just need to check the temperature controls and I’ll be done opening.”

“Sounds good,” you reply, smiling back.

As he makes his way to the temp controls on the Southern wall, you perch on the wooden stool and set down the coffee.

With his back turned to you for a moment, you allow yourself to slouch, planting two hands on the table and stretching your shoulders with a sigh. It’s earlier than you normally get out of bed, let alone actually leave your apartment, and you can already feel a quiet exhaustion setting into your bones.

But this is worth it, you remind yourself. Worth it to talk to the beautiful boy with broad shoulders and gentle hands.

He’d been unexpected. That first day in the greenhouse, you’d sat down with the intention to calm down from a tedious school day and nothing more. Your hands had moved of their own volition on that second drawing of the orange branch, scribbling out a hasty message that made your cheeks burn. But he was so present that day, in the corner of your eye but staying respectfully out of your space. And you’re not blind -- you saw the muscles under his shirt as he lifted an entire small tree in its pot. You saw the startling shade of green his eyes took on in the sun. You saw it all, and it drew you back, and now you’re here.

When he joins you back at the table, leaning back against it to face you, you stick out your hand and offer your name.

He looks at it for a moment, then back at you.

“I just, uh, realized we never properly introduced ourselves,” you explain, with a hesitant smile.

He smiles again and your heart thuds, then his big hand engulfs yours and he shakes it firmly.

“Wakatoshi. It’s nice to meet you.”

You learn in the following weeks of coming to the greenhouse that Wakatoshi doesn’t like coffee. But he does like tea and donuts, so that’s what you bring him on the mornings you can find it in you to wake up before nine. You sit with him in the greenhouse, talking and listening as he records data and waters plants and sits next to you on the quilt you’ve fallen into the habit of bringing. The occasional professor or student comes through, and you get to watch Wakatoshi show off his brains when he leaves you to help them.

There are several things you learn about him over those weeks. Number one: he never minces words. Two: he prefers grapefruit chapstick over anything else. And three: he kisses like it’s his last day on Earth.

You discover number three late one night when you decide to drop by after class, shooting him a text to make sure he’s still there. Today he’s closing instead of opening, and you missed spending your morning with him.

The city lights cast a different kind of glow at this time of night. They add a distance to everything that’s palpable as you drop your bag by the door.

“Toshi, are you here-- oh, hi.” You turn the corner to find him closing the door to the supply closet.

His cheekbones are highlighted briefly by a billboard outside flashing red.

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired. And I wanted to see you.”

“You wanted to see me?”

He takes a step towards you and you have to tilt your head back slightly to keep your eyes on his. They’re leaf green and unreadable.

“Yeah, uh,” you wet your lips with your tongue, “is that okay?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a long time, then, watching you carefully in the neon glow of the exit sign. His hand shakes as it reaches up to push your glasses from your face onto your head.

Without them, he looks fuzzy and soft around the edges.

He says, “Can I kiss you?” and it feels like there’s a bird trapped in your ribcage.

“Yes. Kiss me.”

Wakatoshi kisses nothing like you expected, all tongues and teeth and heavy fingers in the dip of your waist. He growls when you gasp and mewl against him, sucking on your lower lip as your hands find purchase in his shirt. He kisses you so absolutely breathless that you think you might pass out. Your knees buckle and you pull away, gasping with your eyes closed for a moment until you come back to yourself.

“Are you alright, little one?”

The endearment makes your cheeks flush with heat and your eyes snap open.

“Yes, I’m alright. Please do it again.”

And so he does it again, and again, and again until you find yourself bringing him home with you on the last bus that goes towards your neighborhood. He’s standing in the aisle, one hand wrapped around a pole and the other wound around you, who’s standing in front of him. He keeps you steady as the bus rounds a corner.

That night, you bring the peace of the greenhouse into your home, and the only thing you find yourself wishing for is that it never leaves.

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima x fem!reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! fanfic #hq fanfic #valkyrie writes #exactly the spring #haikyuu fluff #ushijima fluff #don't look at me i'm posting this early bc i'm IMPATIENT #*sobs*

[sukifans]

aahhh I’m so excited I love your writing!!! your sokka “help me” fic is one of my favs ever I seriously think about it at least twice a week. in a similar vein, would you be able to combine prompts 10 & 12 for sokka x fem!reader? thank you!!! :)

SOKKA + “can i try that new chapstick? i wanna have a taste” + “i hadn’t noticed but my sweet, funny, goofy best friend is kind of hot, especially since they’ve been on this fitness kick”

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

“nastiest skank bitches” Group Message

loml: ladies, i need a girls night

loml: desperately

babygorl: god i’m down, this semester blows

fugly slut <3: i’m in!! always here for a girls night 🥰

loml: y/n??

you: gals. pals. as much as i would love to...

fugly slut <3: ughhhhhhhhh

babygorl: you better not be blowing us off for sokka again istg

you: 😅

loml: TRAITOR BITCH

fugly slut <3: HOES BEFORE BROS

babygorl: WHORE

you: bruh.mp3

you: he’s coming by after the gym to help me with my physics homework!!! I NEED THE HELP PLS I PROMISE ILL BE THERE NEXT TIME

babygorl: lying is a sin y/n

babygorl: sinner

loml: if sokka’s gonna b there maybe she’ll be sinning in........ other ways...... ahaha

loml: fuckboy_emoji.jpg

fugly slut <3: when you gonna tap that fr

you: NEVER LITERALLY NO EW

you: HE’S MY BEST FRIEND

you: UNLIKE YOU RATS

fugly slut <3: he do b kinda yummy tho liiiike 👀

you: STOP

loml: yeah he’s hot sorry queen

you: HE’S NOT HOT

babygorl: i almost hate to admit it but...

babygorl: his biceps 🥴

fugly slut <3 emphasized “his biceps 🥴”

loml loved “his biceps 🥴”

you: hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!

fugly slut <3 disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

loml disliked “hey! i hate u guys! jsyk!”

babygorl: uh huh yeah sure

loml: yall hear sumn?

NEW MESSAGE from sokka :^)

“hey i’m omw up!”

you: whatever you guys suck

you: i gtg

fugly slut <3: AND YOU SWALLOW

babygorl: bye girly!! get that bestie dick!!

loml: save a car, ride an engineering major >:)

you: desgostang.jpg

You dropped your phone onto the bed next to you with a groan. Your friends really and truly could be such freaks about your relationship with Sokka—or lack thereof. They’d been especially adament ever since he started some stupid bet with Zuko about who could get the most “gains” by graduation, incited by Aang making the mistake of commenting on Zuko’s more pronounced muscle mass.

Idiots.

That’s what Sokka was. Your idiotic best friend, who was funny, and sweet, and intelligent. You loved him, of course, but not like that. And he was not hot.

Definitely not.

The pounding on your dorm door interrupted your musings before Sokka let himself in, dropping his gym bag on the floor and kicking off his slides. His hair was loose and still damp from his post-workout shower and he wore slim joggers with a loose muscle tee.

“Hey!” He smiled brightly when he spotted you sitting in your bed. “What’s up?”

“The usual.” You moved your legs out of the way so he could flop down onto your mattress. “How was the gym?”

Sokka groaned. “Cardio. I’m already sore.” He stretched his arms up to fold behind his head, pulling his muscles taut.

Hm. He does kind of have nice biceps...

You shook yourself internally. Thoughts like these had been creeping out of your subconscious for weeks now, no thanks to your rabid friends.

“My leg’s been killing me, though,” he continued, rubbing his opposite foot across the skin that covered that metal pins and plates holding his bones together after a nasty break in high school. The leg often still gave him problems, ranging from the dull ache he could ignore on the day-to-day, to throbbing pain that left him limping.

You frowned, looking away from his arms to meet his eyes. “You should probably rest up before you hurt yourself,” you said.

“I’ll be fine.” He shrugged and propped himself up on his elbows. “Gotta catch up to Zuko, y’know.”

“Why? You’re already taller than him.”

“So? I wanna be more yolked, too.”

You rolled your eyes. “Buncha dumbasses.”

Sokka quirked an eyebrow. “You want this dumbass to help with your physics homework or not?”

“Haha,” you chuckled nervously, “just kidding, buddy! I meant Zuko and Aang. You—definitely not a dumbass. Nope.”

“That’s what I thought.” He shot you a smug look as he pushed up to sit cross-legged across from you on the bed. He held his hand out with a dramatic, world-weary sigh. “Alright, give it here.”

You opened your laptop to pull up the website that hosted your homework practice problems. “You know I love you, right?”

“Mhm,” he hummed, grabbing a notebook and pen from your desk to work out the math as you handed over the computer. He paused before standing to retrieve his bag, plopping it on your desk chair so he could root through it and pull out his glasses case. You felt your cheeks warm a little when he set the frames on the bridge of his nose.

Fine—he was kinda cute. You could concede that without having to dig too deep into your somewhat jumbled feelings for your best friend.

But you would certainly not “tap that.”

Well...

No. You would not.

You watched his eyes flick over the screen as he tapped the pen against his chin, catching the cap between his teeth while he thought about the formulas he’d learned in a past semester. He nodded to himself and started scribbling out a diagram and the math to go with it. You found yourself a little mesmerized by the way he simply just knew what to do, confidently scratching away at the paper as easily as one might write the alphabet. Your eyes trailed from his long fingers and calloused hand sweeping over the page, up his toned arm (lingering on his bicep a little longer), and to his face. He chewed at the inside of his cheek in concentration, sometimes parting his lips to murmur the logic to himself.

For someone who often said a lot of stupid shit, he sure had a pretty mouth.

You considered what he might do if you snatched a fistful of his shirt and yanked him into a kiss. Would he shove you away and leave? Awkwardly but kindly reject you? Or, would he kiss you back—throw the work out of the way and grab your face to coax you in deeper? Maybe push you back onto the bed and—

“Okay, so basically—”

Jesus Christ, get a fucking grip.

“—from the problem and draw it out like this to apply the formula, yeah?”

Sokka looked to you expectantly and you blinked at him as your face burned. “Sorry, I zoned out. What did you say?”

“C’mon, I know you hate physics but you gotta at least pay attention to me if you wanna pass,” he teased, shifting close enough that the sides of your bodies pressed together. Was it getting warmer in your room, or was it just your best friend?

He launched into the explanation again and you nodded along while internally willing the blood to leave your cheeks. Even as your thoughts ricocheted around inside your skull he managed to break it down in a way that somewhat made sense. He sat back and watched as you slowly worked through the next problem. You glanced up when you heard a soft pop to see him applying chapstick.

“Is that a new flavor?” you asked.

“Yeah, chocolate orange or something.” He held the tube out to you. “Wanna try?”

Fuck it.

Before your rationality could catch up you pressed a hand to his cheek to turn his head and pulled him in for a kiss. Your lips only slotted together for a brief moment before you pulled back to stare wide-eyed at each other. You could feel the fire creeping from your cheeks down your neck, mirrored in the reddening of his tanned skin.

He blinked. You blinked.

The chapstick slipped from between his fingers. Rationality arrived late.

You bolted.

“Uh, see ya later!” you shouted as you threw the door open and rushed out of the room.

“Wait, (Y/N)—“

You didn’t stick around to hear the end of his desperate call. Even thought it was your dorm and you were barefoot you still raced down the hall, wincing at the sound of a door slamming behind you.

“(Y/N)!”

Damn that lanky bastard. You were booking it and he was already hot on your heels. You barreled into the door leading to the stairwell and almost made it down the first step when he grabbed you around the waist and yanked you back. Despite your struggles, the arm hooked across your middle was unyielding until he pushed you into the corner and crowded you against the wall, hands caging you in from either side. Your heart was racing and you weren’t sure if it was because of your escape attempt or that he was close enough you could smell his body wash and deodorant. It was almost enough to make your head spin.

“Sokka, I-I don’t know why—I’m sorry, please, I shouldn’t’ve—“

“(Y/N),” he said firmly and your mouth snapped shut. “Why did you run away?”

“Uh, I—well, um...” You shrunk down against the wall and swallowed hard. “I-I don’t know.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance to respond.”

“Look—“ You paused and stared at him once you processed what he said. “What?”

He laughed, dropping one of his hands to brush against your cheek before threading into your hair to cup the base of your skull. “You really don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

With that he surged forwards and kissed you enthusiastically, making you gasp into his mouth. You balled your hands into the front of his shirt to keep yourself steady as you melted into him. His free hand pressed into your lower back to bring you in closer. His tongue slipped out to tease at your bottom lip and he chuckled when you had to quickly grab his shoulders as your knees almost buckled.

“Get that,” he murmured against your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as the two of you gasped for air.

“Oh,” you breathed, “that.” You hummed happily when he kissed you again, his stubble scratching against your chin and under your palms when you cupped his face.

You both looked up when a stairwell door somewhere above you slammed open, followed by a group of jostling male voices. Sokka grinned when you glanced at him with wide eyes and shiny, swollen lips. You tried to hide behind him as the clamor bounded closer and closer. The group of guys rounded the next flight and gave shouts of recognition upon seeing you two standing against the wall.

“Sokka!”

“Hey, man!”

“Hey, guys,” Sokka said, holding his hand up in greeting.

“What’s up?”

“Oh, is that (Y/N)?”

“Nice, dude!”

“Ah, yeah...” He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck and you raised an eyebrow at his turned head. They all cheered and congratulated him, slapping his back as they passed and disappeared down the next set of stairs. When Sokka met your eyes again you cocked your head.

“Who were they?” you asked.

“Honestly, I’m not sure.”

“Sokka.”

“My reputation precedes me, what can I say?”

“Mine doesn’t.”

“Well—“ he suddenly became very interested in the underside of the stairs above you “—my reputation may or may not involve talking about you. A lot, apparently.”

“Huh?”

“I don’t do it on purpose!” he interjected quickly, taking your hands in his. “It’s just—I dunno, I guess I think about you a lot, so...”

“Oh.”

“Fuck, okay, that sounded weird.” You laughed a little at his embarrassed floundering. “I just mean, like, things that remind me of you or, y’know, stories that involve you...” he trailed off, flushing at your amused smile. “Stop it!”

“Stop what?”

“Making fun of me!”

“I didn’t say anything,” you giggled, hooking your arms around his neck.

“You’re still laughing at me,” he whined, lips turning into a frown. His hands slipped back down to your waist.

“You’re cute.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Without preamble, he ducked down and hoisted you over his shoulder as you shrieked in protest. “Sokka! Put me down!”

“No can do, baby; we have unfinished business to attend to.” He said as he marched you back in the direction of your room.

“You’re gonna finish my physics homework?”

“Nope.”

Oh.

A/N: 2k words bc, again, i have no self control. thank you for the request!

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @blazedbakugou @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio @ohno-caroline @sunflowerr-mami @1vitamin @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @u-4iia @nymeria-targaryen @tommy-braccoli @dizzy-miss-lizzieeeeee @a-sloppy-bitch @nomin-rights @siriuslyslyslytherin @starryncn

SOKKA TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @zvkta @sher-lockedmarvel @grandmascottlang @captainshazamerica @yuesallura

#sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #x sokka #sokka fluff #sokka imagine #sokka fic #atla sokka #atla x reader #sokka #mine #requests #atla fic #avatar the last airbender

[pennylanewrites]

I got seven different asks about the College AU so here are some headcanons I have about them! (imagine aiura is in the picture I couldn’t find a good one with all of them)

I definitely didn’t mean to make this so long but I can’t help it I love them all so much<3

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

Saiki Kusuo

→ marine!!!biology!!!major!!!!!!!!

→ doesn’t need to study but he still does bc he finds marine life so fascinating

→ read all of his textbooks on the first day bc he was so excited eeeek

→ always wears his germanium ring in class so he can stay hashtag focused

→ him and aiura have to bail toritsuka(didn’t go to college) out of jail once a month

→ speaking of aiura, she somehow has convinced him to go on a date on five different occasions

→ i think after high-school he realised he didn’t mind a kind of casual not-relationship with her

→ lets her hug him to greet him and sometimes he hugs back bc college boys stare a lot and he is just worried for her okay?

→ maybe I’m just projecting bc I kin aiura

→ does not go to parties unless he absolutely has to

→ if he does go to a party he’ll drink something quietly in a corner, just watching the crowd

→ a perv laced Teruhashi’s drink and almost lured her up the stairs so of fucking course Kusuo sprinted to help her, holding her on the way home bc men are drawn to her like bees to honey

→ she didn’t let him live it down ever

→ he rented a studio apartment and keeps it super clean, minimum clutter but enough to look lived in

→ cooks amazing food that Nendo smells from upstairs and next thing you know, they’re all bringing chairs to Kusuo’s apartment and have dinner

→ nothing excuses the fact he makes at least eight servings every time–

→ such a dad to everyone honestly

→ usually studies at a library or teleports back home if there’s a big test

→ mrs. saiki was banned from visiting every two days but she still ends up there somehow

→ not that he minds bc he’s the biggest mama’s boy ever

→ probably graduates a year early

→ doesn’t move away even though he got a job at the aquarium at the other side of the city help–

Kaidou Shun

→ fine arts major you can NOT change my mind

→ doesn’t do good in theoretical subjects but mans can draw some good bowls of fruit

→ wears those stained from the paints t-shirts all the time bc ‘no they’re not dirty it’s art!’

→ him and aren have small designated spaces in their apartment so they can focus on their hobbies/studying

→ his corner at the living room has newspapers on the floor to protect it from the splattering paint, some canvases propped up on the wall and a lot of unfinished projects

→ hides all of them when Nendou comes over

→ can not cook or clean to save his life

→ so he calls his mum to help clean up when Aren is at work

→ got over his 8th grader syndrome at some point

→ still wears red bandages bc he’s edgy

→ volunteers at the neighborhood exhibit centre

→ got asked to showcase his own works for a night and hasn’t shut up about it since

→ goes to yumehara for relationship advice and braids her hair as a thank you

→ couples sleepovers with Yumehara and Teruhashi (yes they’re dating shut up)

→ always makes something for Aren at special occasions (birthdays, anniversaries etc)

→ at first he went back home every saturday bc he missed his family :(

→ Aren helps him get over it though!!!!

Nendou Riki

→ got in on a sports scholarship

→ we already know he couldn’t be accepted in a college otherwise

→ in the chiropractic major bc he wants to be one of those athlete doctors

→ has failed way too many exams and classes

→ Hairo helps him so much though!!!

→ the last one in the group to graduate but somehow gets a job first (excluding Saiki)

→ him and hairo get up at 5 am for jogging or to hit the gym

→ and then he goes and gets noodles bc ‘if noodles aren’t for breakfast why do shops open at 6 am?’

→ hasn’t stepped foot in class in months

→ he gets decent grades after failing the first semester and it’s totally not Saiki’s doing

→ he ends up signing up for way too many clubs

→ attends all of the meetings and has so many friends through them

→ I would be his friend too in college honestly

→ a fraternity wanted to get him bc he’s so good at sports

→ he declined bc he does not understand how fraternities even work

→ is the life of EVERY SINGLE PARTY change my mind you can’t

→ whatever you do don’t imagine nendo surprising his boyfriend with flowers after every practice

→ *dies cutely*

Kuboyasu Aren

→ SOCIOLOGY MAJOR

→ idk I just think he would enjoy Marx’s Capital

→ debate club? hell yeah

→ gets in philosophical conversations at the school yard for HOURS

→ kaidou has to drag him away

→ only shops at thrift stores and makes coffee at home bc “capitalism is not accepted in this household”

→ rides his motorcycle to college even though he lives five minutes away

→ grew his hair out in a mullet again and he looks *chef’s kiss*

→ thought he would be moving too fast if he asked Kaidou to rent an apartment together

→ aiura convinced him it was fine

→ cooks kaidou’s favorite foods every day

→ participates in student rallies, human rights protests etc etc

→ comes home with bruises and kaidou thinks he looks so hot but still yells at him

→ Aren’s favorite place to study is his balcony or at a coffee shop

→ always with kaidou! cute boyfriends who do everything together!!

→ gets so drunk when they go out

→ drunk karaoke with kokomi yes yes yes

Hairo Kineshi

→ did someone say Athletic Training?

→ does every single sport and is amazing at it

→ will cheer for his bf if they have a game at the same time though

→ it was his idea to move in together bc ‘hey we’ve been dating for three years now might as well’

→ volunteers at a nearby elementary as a coach for the kids

→ SO GOOD WITH KIDS

→ wants to be a P.E. Teacher and he’s going to be great at it

→ does everything he can at campus

→ helping random clubs, making posters, cleaning up the hallways, helping the cheer squad with their new routine

→ dances ballet as a hobby even though he’s so good at it that he could be a professional

→ makes everything a competition with Nendo so they never get bored

→ once made everyone get up to jog with them and they ended up sleeping on random benches while Hairo and Nendo were halfway across town

→ will punch someone if he sees them catcalling a girl

→ doesn’t drink at all and eats super healthy

→ designated driver for the group’s outings downtown

Aiura Mikoto

→ THEATER MAJOR

→ is so good at stage acting it’s unreal

→ lands the lead role almost every time

→ is also an amazing singer so she gets great roles in musicals as well

→ doesn’t have to get a job bc she gets all her money from doing readings on campus

→ gets coffees and pastries from all the coffee shops around campus and sits Kusuo down so he can taste them

→ they have a little taste-testing date in his apartment until they decide none of them are as good as the ones at Cafe Mami

→ she totally doesn’t make him teleport there every morning and he totally doesn’t listen to her

→ moved in with chiyo bc they wanted a nice place that they couldn’t afford on their own

→ teruhashi told them to move in with her but they already loved their little place

→ aiura’s bedroom is the most comfortable and cozy room ever

→ their apartment is also the hang out spot for the group bc it’s just so homey

→ hangs out with her theatre group a lot, especially after class

→ they can’t compare to her friends though:(

→ everyone goes to her when they’re worried and she loves it bc she’s the mummy of the group

→ she makes everyone coffee and their comfort food before big exams:)

Yumehara Chiyo

→ psychology major one thousand percent

→ you know how they say that people choose psychology bc they don’t know what major they want?

→ that’s exactly what happened except she fell in love with it immediately

→ such a good student!!!

→ always does her assignments on time and still manages to have a social life

→ teruhashi asked her out at the end of their first semester and that’s the first time chiyo missed a deadline

→ practically lives with teruhashi, insisting it’s just to leave aiura alone

→ she’s just IN LOVE OKAY?????

→ would want to be a sorority girl at first

→ changed her mind when she realized how much shit they all talked

→ her and kaidou drink wine and talk about their relationships and studies

→ she’s so sleep deprived it’s unreal

→ she doesn’t need sleep anymore though

→ coffee is her best friend

→ makes asks Aiura for readings twice a week

→ brings all her psychology friends home and they analyze their textbooks

→ once she got the hang of it, she decided to examine Kusuo

→ she told him he needs actual medical evaluation

→ he almost threw her out the window when she offered some Xanax for his nerves

→ chiyo is a neat freak one hundred percent

→ hates when Aiura throws everything on the floor, but she loves cleaning

→ opens her own office after school

Teruhashi Kokomi

→ PRE-MED

→ lesbian doctor :)

→ just wanted to get away from her perv brother at first

→ she always wanted to be a doctor though, preferably a neurosurgeon

→ she’s super duper smart and hates when she gets good grades bc of her good looks:(

→ makes it her goal to show her professors that she’s more than a beautiful girl

→ hasn’t failed a single exam

→ helps everyone with their studies even though she’s drowning in work

→ drops the perfect girl image at college and decides she should try and aim for something normal

→ gets invited to every single party

→ in a knitting club bc it would get disbanded without one more member

→ knits!!!matching!!!sweaters!!!for all of her friends!!!

→ asked Chiyopipi out while drunk

→ never regretted it though

→ her and aren get so drunk when they go out with the group

→ it’s honestly unreal how much they can drink before passing out

→ has to get carried home

→ wakes up after getting drunk and runs to her class before remembering it’s Sunday

→ her penthouse has the perfect view of the sunset and sunrise and is all she could ask for in life

→ does get lonely so she’s practically living with Chiyo and Aiura

→ once she realized she didn’t like boys she made it her goal to get Saiki and Aiura together

→ people wonder how she has so much time to play matchmaker and volunteer while she’s in premed

→ does her internship at a hospital

→ ends up working there as a neurosurgeon after her Doctorate degree

~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~~~♡~~~~~~~~

#saiki kusuo no ψ nan #tdlosk #saiki k no psi nan #saiki kusuo #nendou saiki k #nendou riki #kaidou headcanons #kaidou shun #kaidou x aren #saiki k headcanons #teruhashi #teruhashi kokomi #aiura mikoto #yumehara chiyo #nendou x hairo #hairo kineshi #aren x shun #aren kuboyasu #saiki k #Kusuo #college au #anime headcanons #anime fluff #the disastrous life of saiki k. #tdlosk headcanons

[duskholland]

prompt idea if it vibes with you... frat!tom and y/n are close friends at a party and Tom accidentally drunkenly tells her how he feels about her. this could be followed by her making sure he gets home and sobers up and in the morning they talk abt it (smut could ensue, if the mood so strikes). wishing you good writing vibes 💞

no smut, just a lot of fluff! thank you for requesting--this concept makes me feel :’)) cw: alcohol

frat!tom !!

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’ve never seen Tom this drunk before, and you have to admit, it’s quite cute.

There’s a rosy flush to his face, and his eyes are even warmer than usual. He’s incredibly affectionate, clinging to your arm like it’s his only lifeline, kissing your cheek every time there’s an opportunity to. It’s not that the gushing behaviour is unusual—Tom’s always been a flirt, for as long as you’ve known him—but you’ve never seen him act this enamoured. Not around you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” You whisper into his ear.

Tom looks up at you, movements jerky and tired. You’re sitting beside him on the sofa. You’d been playing a game of truth or dare with the rest of the group, but they’d all scattered as soon as it finished. Now it’s just you and Tom, sitting side by side.

“Definitely,” he mumbles, voice slightly slurred. He yawns loudly, stretching out his arms and giggling when he accidentally hits your shoulder with a soft fist. “S’rry, love.”

You snort, reaching out to pat his arm. You’re tipsy, but you’re nowhere near as trashed as your friend appears to be. He curls into your touch, and you watch, smirking, as he collapses down over the sofa, stretching his legs out along the cushions as he rests his head in your lap. Your fingers move up to find home in his hair, and you stroke his strands softly as he moans.

“God, that feels good,” Tom whines. His eyes flutter shut and you continue to massage his scalp, tugging lightly on his hair when you figure out he likes a bit of pressure. “Fuck… I love you.”

You chuckle, leaning down to gently kiss his forehead. “Love you too,” you reply.

Tom’s eyes shoot open, and his jaw falls slack as he blinks. “Do you?”

A confused smile finds your face as you nod. “Yeah. You’re one of my best friends, Tom.”

A line forms between his brows. “No, no, that’s not… I didn’t mean it like that.” His nose scrunches up as he pouts, and Tom reaches up to grab your hands. He grasps your fingers firmly and stares into your eyes. “I love you.”

You tilt your head to the side, suddenly feeling a little light headed.

“I love you?” You try again.

Tom chuckles, eyes flickering down to your hands intertwined with his. He clumsily kisses your knuckles before sighing.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats, voice slanted. “‘M too much of a coward to tell you when I’m sober, but I guess it’s easier when I’m fucked.” He glances up at you, seeming nervous. “It’s um… it’s fine if you don’t feel the same or—“

All of a sudden, Tom breaks off, and he goes very still as he groans. His cheeks pale, and you startle when he sits up suddenly, looking around, startled.

“Don’t be sick,” you warn, heart beating rapidly in your chest. You reach out to the table beside you and pick up your bottle of water, flicking open the cap and passing it into his hands.

Tom downs it quickly, and you soothe your hand over his back as you try to make sense of his confession. You want to believe him—fuck, you’ve been in love with him since the moment you met him—but you also watched him down four shots in a row and do a keg stand, so you don’t know how much you trust his woozy words.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, wiping at his mouth as he passes back the bottle. Tom goes to lie down again, but you gently coax him back up.

“I’m taking you upstairs,” you decide, after a quick glance at his watch to confirm it’s gone three.

Tom pouts, but it’s quick to disappear as you stand

and carefully pull him up with you. “Wait, are you coming too?”

“Yeah. I don’t trust you to climb all those stairs without me.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, slumping against you as you slowly lead him towards the grand staircase.

“If you want to come into my bedroom, you could just come out and say it,” he slurs. “No need to tease, baby.”

You scoff. “How are you still such a flirt when you’re drunk?”

“It’s in my DNA. I’m programmed to appreciate pretty things, and you, love…” He reaches up and boops your nose. “You’re very pretty.”

You decide you quite like Tom when he’s drunk like this—affectionate and loving.

“You’re cute,” you reply. You sigh contentedly as you finally finish dragging him up the stairs. “Go brush your teeth,” you urge, gesturing in the direction of the bathroom. You’re on the top level of the frat now, reserved for the members of admin. As president of the frat, Tom’s lucky enough to have his own room.

“Come with me,” he whines. He blinks at you with those warm brown eyes, and you find yourself melting.

It takes a while to get Tom ready for bed. First it’s his teeth, then you have to pull him out of his incredibly tight skinny jeans, then convince him to drink some water. By the time you’ve got him back into his room and into bed, he’s dead on his feet, and honestly, so are you.

“Sleep with me,” Tom mumbles, holding out his bare arms. He’s burrowed into his double bed, staring up at you with a boyish smirk on his face.

“I should probably go,” you say, sighing slightly.

“Please stay, Y/N.” His lips roll into a pout. “I want your cuddles. Promise I won’t do anything weird.”

You nod, as a quick balancing of positives versus negatives decides you’d much rather stay with Tom than trudge home in the rain.

After flipping off the lights and pulling off your outfit, you rummage through one of Tom’s drawers and find a large rugby shirt. You slip into it and tend to your makeup as best you can before collapsing into bed beside him, immediately finding his buff arms encircling your waist. Tom curls into you like a koala, and as you gently card your fingers through his hair, you’re reminded of his confession.

“Did you mean it?” You whisper.

“Hmm?”

You swallow. “Do you love me?”

Tom peels away from you, and even in the dark, you know he’s looking at you.

“Yeah,” he admits. “Had a crush on you ever since we were partnered together for that study group last semester. Tried to tell you a few times, but couldn’t ever get the words out right.” Tom sighs dramatically, and pulls you closer. “Jus’ don’t wanna lose you as a friend, Y/N… Would rather never tell you so you can’t reject me.”

You release a soft breath, then lean down to kiss the top of his curls.

“Go to sleep, Tom,” you mumble. “We can talk about it in the morning.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Night… love you.”

You hope that he’s speaking from the heart, and not from the blend of alcohols swirling through his system.

“Love you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You’re woken by Tom, when he groans and swears and flings his arms around as he wakes up. When he accidentally bashes you in the side, you curse too, turning over and grumbling incoherently as you try to ignore the ache in your side and the pounding in your head.

“Y/N?” You hear him say, voice confused. “Why are you in my bed?” His words crack with fatigue, and Tom moans again. “Fuck, what did I drink last night? I can’t remember shit.”

You begrudgingly turn back over, the duvet rustling. Tom’s sitting up against the headboard now, glass of water in his hand, and you watch as he downs the pills you’d left out for him last night.

“You had way too much,” you say, keeping your voice quiet. “You wanted me to stay, so… I stayed.”

Tom hums, letting one of his hands come down to rest on the back of your head. His eyes skim your face and a gentle smile works out across his lips.

“You’re in my shirt,” he mumbles. “Looks nice on you.”

You bite back a smile, shrugging bashfully.

“Do you really not remember anything?”

Tom hesitates. He slowly puts the glass of water down before sighing, using that hand to ruffle up his hair.

“I remember bits,” he says. His eyes narrow. “Do you remember everything?”

You think for a moment before nodding. “Yeah.”

Tom nods, and you almost hear him swallow. “And… you’re still here.”

You smile softly. “Yeah.”

“So that means…”

“Yeah.”

He hums, and then reaches down to tug you upright. Despite your complaints at being pulled from the warm embrace of his duvet, you can’t find it in yourself to complain when Tom pulls you into his lap and wraps his arms around you. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, and his hair lies messily across his forehead, but you think he looks beautiful.

“I meant it,” he admits, voice soft. His fingers gently roll over your waist. “I mean, I would’ve liked to say it more, uh...eloquently, but… it’s true, Y/N. I love you.”

He seems to be holding his breath, and the sight of him so nervous makes your heart race. You reach up and wrap your hands around his neck, smiling as you bring him in for a very soft, gentle kiss. You feel him grin into it, and you realise this is exactly where you’re supposed to be.

“I love you too, Tom,” you tell him.

“Oh.” He kisses you again, growing more confident as you pull yourself nearer and nestle further into his arms. “Really?”

“Mmm.” You let your fingers play with his hair as you hum, pressing your forehead to his and closing your eyes. “You’re really funny when you’re drunk.”

“I’m a disaster,” he complains. “‘M so hungover now, too.”

You hum in agreement, then pull back and yawn.

“Can we go back to sleep now?” You ask, drawing a chuckle from Tom.

“Fuck yeah,” he mutters. He pulls you down with him, and this time, it’s you that curls into him. He wraps you up in his arms and holds you close, kissing the top of your head with care. “Love you,” he chimes, and despite how unfamiliar the words are, they sound right, filling his accent like that.

You press a soft kiss to his chest, and let your eyes droop closed.

“Love you too.”

#tom holland x reader #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader fluff #tom holland #frat!tomfic #tomblurbs #myblurbs #tom.sfw #queue

[sehunniepotwrites]

sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre—  would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time! 

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions. 

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks. 

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly. 

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip. 

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later. 

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder. 

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue. 

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary. 

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see. 

He really was an artistic genius. 

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?” 

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type. 

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it. 

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on. 

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel. 

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you. 

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted. 

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch. 

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major. 

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more. 

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference. 

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered. 

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person. 

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?” 

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried. 

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest. 

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave. 

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you. 

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall. 

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees. 

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him. 

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering? 

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings. 

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art. 

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her. 

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.” 

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.” 

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued. 

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away.  You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit. 

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown. 

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe. 

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils. 

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work. 

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.” 

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook. 

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register. 

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose. 

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.” 

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease. 

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down. 

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear. 

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak. 

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone. 

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water. 

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?” 

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.” 

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely. 

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?” 

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair. 

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.” 

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was. 

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works? 

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm. 

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued. 

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers. 

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him. 

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body. 

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears.  It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat. 

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t. 

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand. 

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway. 

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

 With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s. 

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side. 

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense. 

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that. 

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug. 

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.” 

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her. 

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming. 

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back. 

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile. 

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her  sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look. 

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings. 

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking. 

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him. 

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him. 

Putting two and two together, you figured it out. 

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.” 

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now. 

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall. 

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief. 

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain. 

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated. 

“I— I don’t know what to say.” 

Everything was extremely overwhelming. 

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.” 

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock. 

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you. 

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for. 

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm. 

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him. 

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears. 

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies. 

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too. 

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst. 

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again. 

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold. 

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same. 

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath. 

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all. 

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful. 

It was the start of something new. 

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu  i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk​ @hyunjins--laugh​ @littleflowercrown13​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @radiorenjun​ @ncteaxhoe​ @chancrispy​

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct angst #nct x reader #nakamoto yuta #yuta #yuta x reader #yuta scenarios #yuta imagines #yuta fanfic #yuta fluff #yuta angst

[rhysismydaddy]

Elorcan smut after so much y e a r n i n g!!

🥺 please?

Lorcan remembered the exact moment he first saw Elide Lochan. 

He’d been on his way to his last class of the day, senior year exhaustion weighing heavily on his shoulders, and had looked up from his phone to see her standing at the other end of the hall, talking animatedly to a professor. 

She’d been wearing dark slacks and a pale, soft looking sweater that contrasted against the silky black hair hanging down her back. He could tell that even with the heels, she wouldn’t even reach his shoulders, and not a small part of him enjoyed how small she was in comparison to him, even though it also made him feel like a hulking brute. 

The same part of him took one look at her and said Yes.

He’d made his way over, planning to totally interrupt her conversation and ask her out, and she’d looked up as she saw him coming, wide brown eyes meeting his.

A rush of heat went through him as she’d tilted her head and took him in from his too-long hair all the way down to the dusty boots he’d never cared to clean.

And then she’d done something that’d been a prominent player in his dreams ever since: she bit her lip.

That goddamn beautiful, blush pink lip that doubled as the most tantalizing thing he’d ever seen. 

His imagination had immediately run wild.

He’d wanted to draw that lip into his mouth, nibble on it and soothe the ache with his tongue. Wanted to taste them both as he pushed into her. Wanted to see them wrapped around his cock as she looked up at him with those big, beautiful eyes.

And that was just her lips. 

The rest of her was almost too much for him, even in his fantasies. 

Full hips; slim thighs that would feel too good parting for him; heavy breasts he wanted to taste.

She was a fucking wet dream. He’d never been so attracted to a woman, much less one he’d never met.

As he’d drawn closer and closer, she’d bid farewell to the professor and turned to him with a wide smile that made him almost trip over his own fucking feet. 

And then she’d asked: “English 135?”

His sex-foggy train of thought had come screeching to a halt, and he’d raised a brow. “What?”

She’d nodded toward the classroom they were standing outside of. “English 135. Creative writing. Are you in this class?”

It’d taken him an embarrassing amount of time to realize she was a TA. 

And an even more embarrassing amount of time to realize the fact that she was his TA.

Because he was, in fact, enrolled in creative writing. 

He’d chosen the class at random since it fulfilled his last general education requirement, and he’d been dreading it all week, but now... now it didn’t seem so bad. 

Especially as she looked up at him, the heat in his eyes reflected in her own, and said softly, “Welcome to class.”

E~

Elide felt like one of those tight rope walkers--doing something dangerous that might have disastrous consequences but unable to stop because she loved the thrill.

She knew entertaining thoughts of one of her students was stupid, but from the moment she’d met him, she hadn’t been able to help it. 

Like her thoughts had summoned him, he strolled into the room, and she let her eyes graze over him, finding him just as distracting as they had yesterday and the day before and every other day so far this semester. 

Tall and broad-shouldered, with hair like a midnight sky and eyes just as dark. He was like nothing she’d ever seen. 

For the past two months, she’d been unable to stop herself from imagining how it’d feel to have him on top of her, pressing her down with his heavy weight. How he might say her name in the morning and how he looked when he came.

Thoughts that were nothing but a bad idea, since she was his student. 

“Good morning, Mr. Salvaterre,” she said politely, trying to keep her voice from going husky.

He looked at her like he knew what she was doing, which he probably did. He wasn’t exactly subtle when it came to watching her day in and day out. 

His dark eyes followed her when she paced in front of the class, tracked down her body whenever he came in the room, and burned with desire whenever they met her own.

He also always came in a few minutes early to talk to her before other people arrived, like he had right now.

A corner of his lips pulled up as he replied, “Morning, Elide.”

She almost sighed. Unlike the other students, he never called her Ms. Lochan. And he never smiled. 

His lips would tilt up in a smirk, and occasionally he’d go so far as to look mildly  amused, but he never gave her actually smiled. Which was probably a good thing, because she didn’t know if she was strong enough to resist Lorcan in general, let alone a smiling Lorcan.

“Do you have your paper?”

They had a story due today. The prompt was to write a chapter of a romance novel--not her idea. The plot, setting, and everything else was up to them.

Elide was looking forward to reading his more than she’d ever admit, but she remained calm as he handed over a thick stack of papers. 

Calm or not, she was unable to stop herself from flipping it open and scanning a few lines.

Every thought inside her head came to a halt.

“This is...” She looked up to find him raising a brow and waiting for her to finish. “This is a sex scene.”

"Mmhm,” he confirmed, the amusement and hunger in his eyes clear to see.

A blush fought to work it’s way up her face as she saw the main character’s name was Elise. One letter away from Elide. Coincidence?

Then she saw that male lead’s name was Lorance. 

Definitely not a coincidence.

They’d been subtly flirting for as long as the class had been going on, but nothing so bold as to write a sex scene about them.

She read a little more and almost passed out. It was a sex scene in a classroom.

“Feel free to make corrections or suggestions,” he murmured, for all intents and purposes sounding like he was actually talking about the assignment.

Elide cleared her throat, trying to unscramble her brain.

“Mr. Salvaterre, the prompt was to write about romance.”

Lorcan smirked and flipped the paper open to a certain page. “What’s more romantic than that?”

On their own accord, her eyes dropped to scan the page, finding an explicitly detailed scene of “Lorance” bending “Elise” over the desk and pulling her panties down with his teeth.

Elide looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath and fighting the urge to press her thighs together. 

“This is inappropriate.”

“How so?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m your professor.”

He braced a hip against her desk and pointed out, “You’re my TA. And only for another month.”

“Yes, but... I could get in trouble. Nothing in here,” she shook the papers, “is allowed between PhD candidates and college students.”

“I get it, Elide.” He shrugged. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I saw you. I can wait another four weeks.”

When he said it like that, it sounded like forever. But she nodded, appreciating his patients. 

“Thank y-”

“But you know, I think I’ll continue with this story. Just something to, you know... pass the time with.” 

“What?” she choked out.

He explained slowly, “I’m going to keep writing.”

And then, faster than should be possible for such a big person, he was right in front of her, mouth dipped to her ear as he whispered, “And in four weeks, you get to pick one.”

He pulled away right as students started walking through the door, leaving her flustered and shaking and completely screwed. 

~

Every class for the next month, Lorcan brought her a new chapter. 

They were the filthiest, most erotic things she’d ever read. 

She was addicted to them.

His imagination seemed to know no bounds when it came to her, and it made her shiver just to think about what else he might come up with. 

He never said a word, just came in and put the papers on her desk, then went and sat and proceeded to eye-fuck her until the class was up. 

On the last day of class, he gave her both a new chapter and his final paper for the course. She was woman enough to admit she only cared about one.

“Wait to read this one till after class,” he said quietly before sliding in his seat at the back of the room.

She pursed her lips, wondering why, but acquiesced and didn’t read it during the twenty minute reading time at the beginning of the class. It was burning a hole through her desk, but she ignored it the entire sixty minutes.

After she released everyone and bid them a happy summer, she watched as Lorcan got up, winked, and walked out of the class without a care in the world.

Um... what?

He wasn’t going to talk to her? Seriously? After two months of-

The chapter.

She flipped it open, immediately finding the reason for his casualty. 

While the others were all written in the past tense, this one was present. And it used her real name.

And the first line was: Elide left the classroom, anticipation making her skin tingle, and walked to the parking lot. 

Huge smile on her face and skin indeed tingling with anticipation, she made her way to the parking lot, then turned the page and read, She drove to Lorcan’s apartment. 

His apartment? She’d never even been on a date with him. Not that that really mattered to her at the moment.

Was she seriously doing this? 

Her eyes drifted to the next line to see his address, and she decided yes, yes she was. 

Traffic seemed to go on forever as she drove the ten minutes to his apartment, and by the time she knocked on the door, she was too excited to stand still.

She knocked on the door, then knocked again when there was no answer. 

Brow furrowed, she looked back to the chapter, flipped the page, and saw: She used the key under the mat to let herself in, then went to his bedroom in the back. 

Hands shaking, she bent to grab the key, then let herself into her Lorcan’s apartment like she did it all the time.

An empty, clean, almost-barren apartment greeted her, and after taking an intrusive look around, she walked down the hallway to his room.

Thin drapes were closed over the window, filling the space with soft, hazy light, and she instinctively walked to the bed to run her fingers over the silky sheets. It smelled like him in here, like smoke and rain and something just Lorcan. 

Inhaling deeply, she looked back at the paper in her hands. 

Knowing he’d be there soon, Elide took off her clothes, got on his bed, and waited.

Her mouth dropped open as she read that line again and again. It was the last page, so she had nothing else to tell her what was going to happen.

Was he serious?

Was she seriously going to do it?

Her body made the decision before her mind did.

She kicked her shoes off and let her hair down from her ponytail before she could think better of it.

“Crazy man,” she murmured, even as she pulled her dress over her head and threw it on the floor. Her bra and panties followed, and then she was standing there in a man’s room while he wasn’t even home.

God, what if this was some elaborate prank? What if this wasn’t even his apartment?

The realistic part of her brain told her how crazy that sounded, which relaxed her a little. 

She eyed the bed, not sure if she should get on it or just stand here. It felt strange to be naked in the first place, even stranger to be in his bed without him.

But it also felt exciting. 

She’d wanted him for such a long time, and now that she was minutes away from actually having him, she felt like she was going to combust.

This was another way, she realized, of heightening the anticipation between them. Elide had made him wait for three months, so he was giving her a taste of her own medicine.

She crawled on the bed without another thought, relaxing on his pillows and trying to calm down. 

Then the question became... how long was he going to make her wait?

Twenty minutes later, she had her answer. 

She heard the lock on the door click open, and God above, just the sound of his boots coming down the hall made her breath come quicker. He got closer and closer, and then there he was.

Lorcan leaned against the door frame, looked her over from head to toe, and for the first time since they’d met, gave her a full smile.

She found herself smiling back, unable to help it. She was right; smiling Lorcan was undeniably her favorite.

He didn’t say a word as he prowled closer and braced his hands on the bed near her feet. He didn’t have to; his eyes told her exactly what he was thinking. 

They roamed over every inch of exposed skin, lingering on the sweep of her hips, the apex of her thighs, the quick rise and fall of her chest. 

“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined this moment,” he rasped, leaning to press a featherlight kiss to the inside of her ankle. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

He pulled back and continued to look at her like he was content to do exactly that for the rest of his life. She needed him to touch her, needed him to put that still-smiling mouth on hers.

“Lorcan,” she breathed, squirming under his dark gaze. She pulled her lip between her teeth to keep from throwing pride to the wind and just begging him for what she wanted.

Turns out, she didn’t need to beg. As soon as she bit her lip, he was on her, heavy weight pressing her down in the way she’d imagined he would for months, mouth covering hers, hands cupping her face like she was something precious. 

He stole her lip from her, sucking it into his mouth and groaning. 

Like a thread with too much tension, they snapped, hands and mouths starting frenzied as they both tried to kiss the other harder, deeper.

His hand slipped between her thighs, and he pulled back far enough to press his forehead to hers and mutter, “Shit.”

Then he was kissing her neck, sucking down at the same time he pushed two fingers inside of her. His name fell off her lips, sounding desperate to her own ears. 

He ignored her plea, kissing a path down to her breasts. He swirled his tongue around the peak of one and used his free hand to pinch the other, making her cry out. 

“These breasts,” he growled, sounding a little angry. 

She didn’t know if she should apologize or shove them further in his face. 

He switched to the other, choosing option number two for her. His teeth scraped against her nipple at the same time he pushed his fingers into her a little harder, and it felt so good her legs shook.

Then he was moving, going further down until his face was pressed between her thighs. 

He pushed her thighs back, and she blushed at being so exposed while he hadn’t shred a stitch of clothing. But then he pulled his fingers out, licked them clean, and said, “You taste like strawberries,” giving her a whole other reason to blush.

Lorcan calmly slid down to his stomach and got comfortable, then proceeded to eat like he’d been locked in a room with no food for two weeks. 

His tongue was everywhere, licking her from top to bottom, circling her clit, pushing inside her. He hummed, and she arched off the bed, pushing her hips further toward him. 

She wanted this to last forever, but her body was reacting to him like it never had to anyone, and she felt herself getting closer and closer to the edge. 

He added his fingers back at the same time he sucked her clit sharply, and she fell to pieces, twitching and pulsing around him and breathing like she’d done something besides lay there.

She yanked him up the bed, needing to feel him against her. She slid her hands in his hair and licked his lower lip, smiling when he made a gruff sound.

Elide slipped her hands under his shirt and pulled it off, then started working on his belt, only to have her hands knocked out of the way by his. He unceremoniously ripped his clothes off, then rolled on his back to reach for a dresser drawer. 

While he dealt with that, she perused him head to toe like he’d done her.

His body was lean and cut, tan and beautiful. 

Crawling next to him, she ran her lips over his chest, down his abs. When she attempted to go lower, he stopped her with a hand in her hair. 

“But I want to-”

“Later,” was all he said before throwing her on her back, rolling the condom on in an oddly primitive manner, and thrusting inside of her.  

She gasped, feeling so full she might split apart, and clung to him as he let her adjust.

When she felt like she could breathe again, she wrapped her legs around her waist and tilted her ups up, taking him even deeper. He made a deep sound of approval, eyes dropping to half mast. 

Lorcan braced himself on his elbows, gave her a very male look, and said, “Hold on tight.” 

Then he started to move, pulling out all the way before thrusting back in so hard she shook. 

It was like the past months of lust and heated glances were coming back all at once, reminding her how long she’d gone without him.

She’d imagined what he’d be like more times than she could count, but the reality was somehow better.

Her nails dug into his shoulders as he pounded into her, probably hurting him, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Their mouths met in a messy, wet glide, and he bit her bottom lip, anchoring himself by it as he fucked her even harder. 

“Elide,” he groaned, deep voice desperate and scratchy. “Come on, baby.”

The knowledge that this was undoing him as much as it was her was what pushed her over the edge again. She moaned his name as she came, eyes going shut and body arching up into him. 

He followed immediately, stilling on top of her and fisting the sheet hard enough she worried it would tear. 

When she came back down to earth and released his shoulders, she saw she’d left little half-moon marks on him, and she leaned up to ease the hurt with her lips.

After a moment, he rolled off of her and collapsed on the other side of the bed with a huff.

They both stared at the ceiling, unable to find words for a long moment. 

Until Lorcan stated, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, body still tingling. “Was it worth the wait?”

He shrugged, and her heart constricted painfully in her chest until he said, “Might need another go before I say for sure.”

Elide shoved his shoulder, turning on her side to look at him.

“What now?” he asked, rolling to face her. “I do actually plan to take you on a date, you know. Dinner?”

A part of her was relieved to hear this wasn’t just sex to him, but there was something else she wanted at the moment. 

“Chapter 3?” she suggested instead.

Lorcan gave her a wolf’s smile. “I like the way you think.”

________________________________________________

not me being horny on main yikes. sorry it’s long

[obeymeluv]

Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.  

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours. 

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

 You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.  

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

#Obey me! #Obey me x reader #Lucifer x Reader #Mammon x Reader #Levi x Reader #Leviathan x Reader #Satan x Reader

[amysteriousmessenger]

have you ever done rfa headcanons with a stressed out mc? because of like deadlines and stuff? cause that's the state I'm in rn and I need comfort ;-;

this is my second time writing this because my laptop deleted it ;-; I hope this is okay and I added V and Saeran because I’m a saeran simp <3 

RFA + Saeran and V with a Stressed Out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Yoosung’s in the exact same camp as you, screaming. He spent the entire semester in front of his PC playing LOLOL and getting bullied by Seven, so now his deadline has creeped up on him. Yoosung absolutely understands the stress of a deadline coming at you fast and not being sure as to whether you can complete it in time.

The best thing that Yoosung can do for you is to do his own work. The two of you spend a straight 48 hours in the library, only taking breaks to go home and sleep and get food. You book out a private room and just mutually get your heads down. 

 Yoosung’s actually really smart, he just doesn’t apply himself. If you’re stuck on anything, he’ll try to help you even if he doesn’t know anything about your course. He’ll also run around the library finding you specific textbooks you need if he needs a walk or if he’s on his way back from getting you both a coffee. 

The life of a student is a hard one, but the two of you just keep reminding each other than you just gotta get through this one deadline and then you can sleep and play to your hearts content once again!

Zen/Hyun Ryu with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

It’s times like this that Zen thinks maybe he should have applied himself more in school, or at least got his qualifications, because he feels a little deflated at the fact that he can’t really help you with your work when you need it. He just looks at your laptop and textbooks and draws a blank. He hates seeing you so stressed, and he hates that he’s useless to help even more.

He figured that, if he can’t help you work, the next best thing would be to help you relax afterwards. He tries to keep out of your way, the best he can, but he gets a little sad and feels neglected, so he’s a bit like a puppy when he can sense you’re close to finishing up for the day.

 Zen thinks a nice, hot bubble bath would help you relax best. He’ll run you one when you close your laptop, leading you to the bathroom where he’s already sprinkled some rose petals and sweetly scented body oils into the steamy water. 

He’ll help you in, and then sit on the side of the bath and give your shoulders a rub, commenting on how they must ache after sitting at your desk for so long. It’s no secret that Zen has ~Magic Fingers~ and he massages away the tension in your neck as you melt into the soothing water. 

He’ll hum and sing little songs to you as he does this, finally happy that he can help you in his own special way. Ignore his comments about stress ageing you quicker, he’s just saying it as a pre-emptive measure rather than implying you have stress lines.

Jaehee Kang with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jaehee exists in a permanent state of stress, so she entirely understands what it’s like to have to meet deadline after deadline after deadline. If you tell her that you want to sit with her so you can share her concentration and get work done, she’ll put on a fresh pot of coffee. She’s also ready with the eye drops and painkillers for when your eyes get strained, but she’d really rather you not get to the point of needing them. 

Jaehee reminds you that you need to look after yourself, make sure you’re taking breaks and eating enough. She doesn’t want you to follow in her steps of pulling an all-nighter, so she doesn’t disturb you so you can get as much of your work done as possible. If you want her to, she’ll also gently reprimand you when you’re getting distracted or off task. She doesn’t like telling you what you can and can’t do, but she knows it’s going to help you in the long run. 

She’ll aim to get all of her work done at the same time as you, so the two of you can at least have some time to unwind together afterwards. She’ll put your favourite musical (of Zen’s) into the DVD player and you cuddle up with one another in recovery. She’ll also try to pull you in for an early night of sleep since you’ve been staring at a screen all day and doesn’t want you to get a headache. 

Jumin Han with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Jumin never really gets stressed out over anything. In fact, the only things you’ve ever seen him get stressed about are you and Elizabeth the Third. He doesn’t really have the need or see the point in getting stressed over things, especially deadlines. Jumin will absolutely go off on a speech about correct time management and planning before you have to interrupt him and tell him that that’s not the problem. 

Having a Mensa-level IQ, Jumin’s probably already decently knowledge on your area of study, or offers to pay for you to have a tutor. Jumin’s honestly not the best person to be around when you’re stressed by deadlines because he really can’t relate to the panic, he’s too good at being a businessman that he gets everything done on time or, most usually, early. 

You do have to remind Jumin that not everyone can function and organise themselves as well as he can. 

However, it displeases him to see you stressed so he’ll at least try to help with that since you won’t let him help you academically. He’ll share a bottle of wine with you in the evening after you’ve finished for the day to help take your mind off of your deadline for a bit and will plan a small weekend getaway for the week after your assignment due date to reward you for getting your work done in time and to help you relax. He’ll also book you a spa day in one of C&R’s own establishments so he can guarantee you’re getting the best treatment. 

Saeyoung Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

This man lives with more existential fear than anyone. He knows what it’s like to be Stressed TM. Seven’s an absolute genius with an IQ that could rival Jumin’s if he cared enough, so he’s never had to worry about academic worries, even when he was in University. 

If you ask him to, and maybe even if you didn’t, he’d be willing to hack your college or University’s database in order to either get the essay questions in advance so you know what to revise, or just straight up get the answers. He knows what frightening deadlines are like and he doesn’t want to see you suffer.

If you say that you don’t want him to hack your university because that’s, y’know, illegal, he’ll earnestly take a look at your paper and try to help. Seven has such a weird widespread collection of information in his head that he can just straight up tell you the essay or directly get the research essay that best fits your argument online. You said he can’t hack your university database, you didn’t say he can’t hack other databases for information. 

If you passed out asleep at your desk, you’d absolutely wake up to find your work finished and submitted. Seven will deny doing it, claiming that the alien mothership must have taken your laptop and completed your work, but he has a shit-eating grin plasters on his face and he’s oh-so-innocently fluttering his eyelashes. 

Saeran Choi with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

Saeran never really went to school, so he doesn’t have much experience with academic work but he picks it up very quickly when it comes to helping you!

He brings you hot chocolate and snacks and gives you a kiss on the side of the head every now and then to spur you on. He’ll also try to help you with reading through documents and essays for important information and anything that might be relevant to your course. From his time at Magenta, he’s very good at skimming through large quantities of work and compiling it into shorter documents so he’s absolutely a great person to have helping you. He has a similar IQ to Seven and is a genius in his own right, but he has to apply himself more to knowing about different topics because he’s never really had the opportunity to, but he’s always very interested to know about what you’re studying!

He’s very good at not disturbing you if you need peace and quiet, so he’ll busy himself with cleaning, cooking or going out in the garden so he can leave you without a distraction whilst occasionally dropping in to see how you’re doing and make sure you’re not getting too stressed out.

When you’re done for the day, Saeran will arrange the time to give you a little comfort evening with movies and a snack to make you feel better and help you unwind. 

Ray would absolutely just do your work for you, if you’d let him. He just wants to please you and see you happy, not swallowed up in stress in the same way that he has to be. He’d go without sleeping or eating if it meant helping you. Of course, you’re not going to let him do that, since you want him to rest properly, but he still wants to help. Ray would send you documents and essays when he’s supposed to be working and then exit the tab whenever anyone walks passed his room so he didn’t get caught. He just wants to ease your burden!

V/Jihyun Kim with a stressed out Reader Headcanons

He’s also incredibly smart, but probably wouldn’t have any major knowledge on what is it that you study but he’d help the best way he can. He’s the kinda person that would encourage you to read through the questions several times before you start answering and to not write anything down until you’re fully sure that you understand the source material and what is being asked of you.

He doesn’t like seeing you stressed and he’s helpful by nature so he’d ask if you needed help, and if you say no, he’ll give you space to get on with your work without interruption. V will make you food and bring your lunch with a coffee when it’s time to eat.

Like Jumin, he’d offer to share a bottle of wine to help you unwind when you’re getting too stressed in the evening, and if you can afford to take a break, he’d encourage you to do something creative like painting with him in his studio in order to take your mind off the analytical stuff. It doesn’t have to be good, it just had to help you relax and vent your frustrations!

V gets stiff shoulders when he’s been in the same position for long periods of time painting or waiting to capture a particular image, so he understands the usefulness of a good back rub and he’ll offer you one to loosen up the pressure in the back of your neck when you’re sitting at your desk. He’ll massage his thumbs into your shoulders and plant a little kiss on your lips when you lean your head back to look at him.

#mystic messenger #mystic messenger x reader #mystic messenger reader insert #mystic messenger self insert #jumin han #saeran choi #saeyoung choi #jihyun kim #yoosung kim #zen mystic messenger #hyun ryu #jaehee kang #mystic messenger headcanons #mystic messenger hcs #mystic messenger headcanon #mystic messenger hc

[hologramband]

One Day p1

Alive!Luke x Fem!Reader Modern AU Word Count: 2.6k A/n: hehehe here’s the first part! I have it mostly planned out, there should be 3-4 parts! Lmk what you think! Summary: A shy girl is used to floating under the radar, keeping to herself most of the time, all was well until an opportunity fell into her lap, but what will these new people bring with them?

You were really good at staying right under everyone's radar at Los Feliz. You knew everyone, everyone knew you, but you didn’t have anything more than just a surface relationship with your classmates. You didn’t mind that, it was harder to get hurt this way. You got accepted to the Performing Arts High School with your ability to dance, but have always found your real talent lies within your visual art. Whether you were using paints, pencils, or a pen, you loved the way that your hand flew over the paper and created an image that represented your many different emotions.

In a way it made sense how you loved both dance and drawing, both sharing the flowing of movements to express things that words cannot. It was easier for you to express your emotions and thoughts in these mediums since social connection was hard for you. You had tried it once, really connecting with a person, but it ended up coming back and hurting you, causing you to shut down, so you weren't in a rush to try again any time soon. You floated down the hallways with ease, only having to stop at your locker to grab the remaining textbooks you need for the next few classes. While you were stopped you heard your name called from across the hallway, looking up to see Julie raising her hand in a small wave. “Hey, (y/n)! I like your top!” She came to a stop by your locker smiling. “Thanks! It was my moms, she just found this box of old clothes from when she was in school, this one just really stuck out to me.” You smiled down at yourself and looked back up at the girl to see three boys approaching. You felt heat subtly rise to your cheeks and you tried to focus your eyes on Julie. “Hey Jules, you ready to go to class?” Luke spoke as soon as they reached her side, sending you a nod of acknowledgement when he noticed you standing in front of them. Alex and Reggie both raised their hands with small waves in greeting to you. You smiled in return and turned back to close your locker, swinging your backpack on in the process. “Well, I gotta get to class too, see ya around.” You smiled back at the group and heard Julie call after you. “See you in Art!” You turned slightly and waved in return. Julie and you were pretty decent friends, you talked to her more than anyone else at the school, she had a good balance of how to get to know you without pushing you. You had met the boys a few times in passing, much like the previous occurrence, them not really speaking much more than a ‘hello’ here and there. There was something about Luke though, he never failed to send a storm of butterflies loose in your stomach. He probably didn’t even remember your name, but you could remember all the details of his face, not in a weird way, just in an artistic way, ya know? He had such a coolness about him, like he could totally embarrass himself but brush it off like it was nothing, like he meant to do it even. You thought you were getting better with your anxiety around people, but as soon as that boy was in front of you, it seemed as if your brain forgot how to function. You shook the boy from your thoughts as you continued through your day, classes went by like they typically do, all your general classes like math and english were in the first half of the day, the second half being taken by your dance class and then art. It was simple to say that you much preferred the second half of classes. In dance you went about as normal, running through a few routines and while wrapping up your teacher mentioned something about a new project that would be announced tomorrow. After changing you made your way to your final class where Julie had already arrived and claimed a table for the two of you. “Hi!” she smiled up at you. “Hi! How were your classes today?” You replied, starting a conversation that you hoped would carry throughout the class. You really did like talking with Julie, she was so sweet and really made you feel like she wanted to get to know you. The first day of class she noticed you were sitting alone and she took this as an opportunity to introduce herself, commenting on the particular band tee you had on, being able to strike up a conversation instantly. You admired her for this, the confidence she had when walking in a room was just astounding to you. The two of you went about the class in a way that you similarly would, talking about this and that while sketching away in your respective books, her only pausing to write ideas in her song notebook when an idea would hit. The class you were in didn’t have many actual assignments, just that you needed around 3 small pieces turned in periodically and one larger one for your final at the end of the semester, it made it an easy free flowing environment where there wasn’t too much pressure to stress on any one thing. Before you knew it the ding of the bell was going off overhead and you and Julie started packing up your things, she quickened her pace when she saw the boys waiting at the door for her. “You guys have practice today?” You giggled at her rushed movements. “Yeah,” she laughed as she zipped her bag closed, “Luke and I just finished up a new song too so I’m really excited to get back to the garage to figure out the music behind it.” She smiled up at you and you returned the affection. “Well don’t let me hold you up! Hope it all goes well! See you tomorrow!” You waved to the girl as she ran to the door, only pausing to throw a wave back at you. You laughed and shook your head at the girls' antics and went about your day as usual, starting your walk back home, you didn’t live too far and enjoyed the fresh air and time to recollect after the school day. After getting home you grabbed a quick snack and retreated to your room to finish a sketch that you had been working on in class today. Digging through your bag your heart rate increased when you pulled the red covered book to see the top covered in multiple stickers, this wasn’t your book, it was Julies song book, meaning she was currently in possession of your sketchbook. She must have grabbed yours on mistake when she was packing up quickly. You lightly sighed as you pulled out your phone to text her about the accidental switch-up. She replied instantly just realizing the mistake herself, then invited you over to switch them back and possibly hear some of the songs they were working on, looking for an outsider's opinion. You hesitated in saying yes, did you really need your book back that bad? Sighing, you sent back an okay and asked for an address, as nervous as you were to hang around the guys, more specifically Luke, you remembered how excited Julie was to go over the new song, the one that was probably sitting in the book you were holding in your hands. You threw on a light jacket and grabbed your backpack, for reasons unexplainable to you it just always just felt safer to walk around with a backpack on, and you were on your way to Julies. You could feel your nerves rising with each step you took towards her house, by the time you stood at the end of her driveway you felt like your heart was in your throat. “Calm down, (y/n), it’s just a little hangout to get your book back and hear a few songs, no biggie, nothing to fret about at all.” you whispered to yourself, taking one last deep breath before continuing your walk up her driveway. You had just come into view from the garage when you heard Julie calling out your name. “(Y/n)! How was your walk?” Julie ran out to meet you, now walking beside you into the garage. “It was good! You actually live closer to me than I thought, it was only like a 15 minute walk,” you smiled at her and you continued the small talk until you looked up and met eyes with the brunette guitarist. “(Y/n), these are the guys, Alex, Reggie and Luke,” she introduced them to you and you raised your hand in a wave. “Yeah, i’ve seen you guys perform before, you’re all really good!” you smiled and met each of their gazes. “Thanks! And that was all our old stuff, just wait until you hear what we have coming, um..” Luke stuttered realizing he didn’t know your name. You went to say it but Alex beat you to it. “(Y/n) you idiot,” he hit the back of Luke's head, while rolling his eyes. A blush rose to Luke’s face and he laughed it off. “I-I knew that, I-I just-” “You’re at the school for dance right?” Alex spoke again, interrupting and trying to take the attention off of the stuttering Luke. You smiled and nodded. “Yeah! I’m on a dance scholarship, so that's my main focus but my second is visual art, which reminds me,” You take your backpack off and pull out Julies song book, “here’s this!” She smiles and takes it from you. “Ugh thanks so much, I don’t know what I would have done if I lost this, Reggie can you grab her sketchbook? It’s on the piano!” Julie opened her book and smiled looking at the page. “Oh wow,” you heard Reggie mutter causing everyone to turn to him, “(y/n) this stuff is like, really good.” You blushed and looked down at your feet, you’ve never been good at accepting compliments. “Dude, boundaries!” Julie muttered reaching for the book, but Luke got to it first, taking his own turn looking through the pages. Your heart jumped when he started smiling at the pages he was flipping through, you didn’t have anything in there that you kept hidden, it was just that no one had ever gone through your work before. “You have so many different styles, this one is like a cartoon, but then the next one is like hyper realistic.” Luke looks up to make eye contact and you felt a blush rise to your cheeks. Alex took the second of him being distracted to pull the book away from him and hand it back to you. “I’m sorry for them, they still haven’t figured out what it means to respect someone's privacy.” He narrowed his eyes at his two bandmates. “You know,” you opened the book in your hands to search for a particular page, “I actually have something of each of you individually. I sketched them out the night after I saw one of your guys’ gigs.” You scrunch your face in concentration, you feel everyone rush to stand behind you when you finally find it. You look around at them to take in their reactions, their eyes were all glued to the papers you were displaying in front of you, Reggies mouth falling open. “Oh! Is this why you asked for the pictures my dad took of that night?” Julie looked up at you. “Yeah, I wanted to be able to add the details of everyone's chosen instruments and get some added information on where the highlights were from the lights,” you looked at each of their faces again and made a rash decision to gently tear the pages from your book, handing them to each respective person. Each person held them gently in their hands, then looked up to you in amazement. You just shrugged your shoulders in response, not knowing what else to say. “Well,” you looked out the window and saw the setting sun, “I better start my walk back to my house, it’s getting dark and I wanna get back before that happens. Enjoy the pictures guys!” You smile and turn to walk away, all the band still shocked to silence. “She’s never torn a page from her book before,” you hear Julie tell the boys as you walk further down the driveway, smiling to yourself. It was true, you never pull pages from your sketchbook, not this one at least, it was the better quality of all the other ones you had. You typically just used the less expensive books for class, you go through all the pages so quickly you didn’t want to waste the one’s in your higher quality notebook for the rough sketches, but the pages that you drew the band on were in the higher quality notebook, you had taken the time to really get them right, and they turned out fantastic. Your mother had always told you to spread joy where you can, and after seeing all their faces you knew that it was only right to let them have the pages that they were looking at. You arrived home and couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, there might be something there with them, an opportunity to make new friends, to open up. This idea makes you both nervous and excited, you let these thoughts and ideas later lull you to sleep. --- The next day at school you were walking to your locker when Julie caught your eye, she was waiting in her phone by your locker door. You would usually see her in passing in the mornings, but this is new. “Hey Julie, what’s up?” You greet the curly haired girl at your locker. “Hey (y/n)! Not much really, just watched to catch you this morning and run an idea past you…” She smiles and looks around her before returning her gaze back to you. “Okay? Is everything alright? You seem nervous,” you giggled at her antics and went back to putting the combination into your locker. “Yeah, yeah, I just know you take a while to open up and get close with new people, and I don’t wanna rush you into anything you aren’t ready for, but the boys and I were wondering if-” She gets cut off by a yell from down the hallway. “JULIE! HAVE YOU ASKED HER YET?” You turn to see all three boys running towards you, Julie facepalming at Reggies yell. “Geez Reg, she literally just got here. There's no need to yell,” Julie rolls her eyes at them and looks back to you. “Anyways, we were wondering if you wanted to make more designs and stuff for the band, like for posters and maybe album art one day.” She smiles at you after finishing. “You-you want me to… really?” Your eyes widen in shock. “Yeah! We all really like what you did with those portraits, and you’re pretty chill letting us keep them and all, we want you to be a part of our band, even if it isn’t you on stage with us, you’ll keep things looking cool.” Luke says as he leans against the lockers beside you. “Plus, then you’ll be able to hang out with us more!” Reggie pipes in. They all look at each other then back at you. “So,” Alex smiles at you, “What do ya think?” A million thoughts fly through your mind at once, they really want you to hang out with them more? They liked what you did? You looked at them all, looking back at you, and smiled. “I’d love to.”

tag list ✨

@gia-kerks​ @fangirlangioma​

#jatp #jatp imagine #jatp luke #jatp luke x reader #luke patterson #luke x reader #luke patterson x reader #luke patterson imagine #jatp luke patterson #jatp luke patterson imagine #jatp luke imagine #one day #luke patterson x fem!reader #mini series

[forever-rogue]

A Good Man - Part 1

A/N: So...this turned out to be much more than I intended. It’s not a one off, oh no, could I ever really do that? It’s going to be three parts (and yes, I am committing to three and three only before this gets away from me), and yes I guarantee you there will be smut. You can’t have professor Javi without some smut, after all. Shout out to the amazing and lovely @rosetophighlander​ for listening to my ideas and inspiring me! As always, comments and feedback is welcome, and if you’d like to be tagged let me know! xx

Pairing: Professor! Javi x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: none

A GOOD MAN ‘VERSE MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST

JAVIER MASTERLIST 

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier Peña was a good man. At least that’s what he was trying to convince himself. He was a good man with a bad past. A past he had pointedly left behind in Colombia. But even now, years later, memories haunted him at night - it wasn’t a regular occurrence, but it was often enough. Enough to have him startle awake, drenched in sweat as his chest heaved up and down. Enough to make him feel like a bad man again.

But that wasn’t him anymore - no. He was a bad man then and he was trying to rectify that now by being a good man. He was a good man, and what was in the past was in the past. It didn’t matter it anymore; he had to bury it and let it die. But every time he thought he had, he still found himself plagued by the memories. Shit. 

He’d returned to Texas when everything was said and done, and taken up a post as a university teacher. It was boring; drool, but most importantly, it was a safe bet. A college professor, who would have thought? If you would have told him this a few years ago while he was in the midst of the drug war trying to bring down both Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel, he would have laughed in your face and told you to fuck off. But that was then, and this was now, a very different reality with a very different version of him. Well...no. Javi was still Javi underneath it all, the same man he had always been, he was just trying to be the best man he could be. Trying to make right what in his head claimed made him so bad. 

He was regimented now, almost to a fault, keeping up a routine that claimed most of his mind that wouldn’t let his mind wander too far off track. Gods, he needed a therapist. He knew he did; it was forever on his to do list. Forever the one thing he would get to eventually because it wasn’t pressing enough. Forever the thing he would do when he had more time. Instead he found solace, a small sense of reprieve in his small four-legged friend. 

He was a small, wiry thing with ears that always seemed perked up, colored like sweet milk and honey, affectionately named Stevie, much to Steve Murphy’s chagrin. He served as a good distraction and pseudo-therapist for all that seemed to bother the ex-DEA agent. Sometimes Javi felt bad about how he confided in his little friend but Stevie loved him back all the same, showering him in affection whenever he could.

His routine was the same almost every day, allowing for some variance on weekends. It was strict, almost authoritarian but he had come to have a certain reverence for it. Up at six, out for a jog or walk with Stevie, breakfast for the two of them followed by a shower, at work by 9, a morning class full of mainly bright eyed freshman, followed by office hours where he would check on the dog and then return to eat his lunch by himself, almost always a sandwich, coffee, and some sort of berry, two afternoon classes of disinterested juniors, seniors, and those who seemed to never leave college, followed by a few hours of paperwork and grading before arriving home between six and seven, followed by a simple dinner for himself Stevie. To pass the time he’d read or watch a movie or show, but it was almost always lights out by ten. Sometimes he’d fall asleep quickly, other times it would take him hours. Hours of his brain buzzing with repressed thoughts and emotions that he put off until he fell asleep and repeated his routine the next day.

Weekends allowed for some flexibility instead of the monotonous rigidity. He let himself sleep in longer, go for a long walk with Stevie and have a leisurely lunch, and laze about the house. Sometimes he’d meet up with a friend, usually a coworker from another department and have a drink or two, nothing too excess, before turning in well before midnight. On the rare occasion where he felt restless enough and couldn’t be alone with his own thoughts, he’d go and take himself to a movie, a play, a museum, something that would keep his mind occupied. But by Monday morning he was back to routine. Back to that rigid pattern that kept him on track.

And it had been enough. It had to be enough...right?

»»————-　♡　————-««

Teaching at his alma mater of Texas A&M in the sleepy town of Kingsville had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. When he’d left the DEA, unsure of what to do, what do he really wanted to do with his life now, he had turned his attention back home. One thing had let to another and, surely with some help from his former cohorts at the DEA, he’d lined himself up a fairly easy teaching gig. It wasn’t anything he had ever really given much thought to, but just like his routine, it had become familiar, mind numbing, and easy. It didn’t take much before it had become part of his regimented life. 

He enjoyed the almost anonymity of it all; no one really knew who he was, the things, both horrible and great, that he had done, no one knew his previous reputation, no one judged him before they had the chance to meet him. He was, first and foremost, Professor Peña. The students came and went; no one questioned who he was truly was and he never offered. As far as his students were concerned, he offered them the tiniest shred, if any at all, of his personal life. It had it easy - simple - to keep things strictly business. 

There had been a few times, a few moments when his heart had almost stopped, that a student would stop by his desk after he’d dismissed everyone and ask him his past. It hadn’t been more than maybe four or five in total, but it had still brought a grimace to his face each time. But instead of completely dismissing anyone, he’d politely decline to answer anything beside easy questions, the kind that were of public knowledge. 

Otherwise he insisted that if they ever have any questions related to the course, exams, or homework, they were welcome to come to see him during his office hours. He had a presence about him, not intimidating per se, but firm and strong that usually deterred people from questioning him any further. They almost never came to his office hours; pretty much no one did. Which was completely fine by him because it always gave him a chance to stay on top of the mountains of paperwork the university imposed on everyone.

Much to his chagrin, however, this year the school’s newspaper had decided to start a professor spotlight column in their monthly magazine. Something about connecting students and professors and creating more of a sense of community. A load of bullshit, was what he thought, but he didn’t push the envelope. He wasn’t trying to ruffle any feathers, to step on anyone’s toes; no, he aimed to blend in. But something about having been the man to help bring down Pablo Escobar and the Cali Cartel made him a subject of interest; naturally it was only a matter of time before eager, hungry eyes were turned to him. 

But Javi knew he couldn’t really decline, it would have been against decorum and he wanted no eyebrows raised in his direction. So, he answered the curious student reporter’s questions with basic answers, just enough to give a taste and satiate them, but not enough to have to dig deep. He let them take his picture, let them publish it in their magazine, hoping that not many students would actually read the column, and just gloss over it. He wasn’t sure if he could handle tons of students only signing up for his class for him. He had not plans on indulging them any further into personal life.

But his routine, regimented schedule was all fine and dandy, and surely he thought they would be enough. They had to be enough, right? That’s what he thought. Surely the monotony of teaching countless students would be enough; that’s what he had come to believe anyway. It had worked out for the two prior years, surely it should have been the same going into his third year there.

Until the day you stepped into his classroom on that first day of that brand new semester and school year. You weren’t like the others...you looked excited, alert, like you actually wanted to be there. Like you wanted to listen to him teach. Like you cared. The swarm of students surrounding you barely looked alive, but you did. There was a certain magnetic charm that you possessed that happened to draw in everyone around you, including the man at the front of the room. The man that was determined to adhere to the strict routine that he had concocted for himself; the man that vowed he not stray from his class structure. The man that so desperately just wanted to be a good man. 

He hadn’t noticed you at first, keeping his gaze focused on the papers and stacks on his desk, picking up the roll call sheets and running through them with a sense of disinterest. Name after name of students that probably just took the class because they needed some sort of credit. They responded in voices that were barely audible, tones that strongly suggested that they did not care whether he made a note of them being in attendance. 

But when he got to your name, calling it out softly, and he heard you confidently and happily respond with a loud here, his deep brown eyes almost jumped out of his sockets. He paused and looked up, taking a moment to push his thick, dark rimmed glasses up his noise, before searching for you in a sea of students. But he knew he had found you when he spied the beautiful face beaming back at him. You offered him the biggest smile he had ever seen within the confines of the small lecture hall.

He was momentarily phased, but the corners of his mouth lifted up slightly as he returned your brilliant smile with the best he could muster up. But before he could get too caught up in anything, even a singular thought that roamed freely, someone loudly coughed and snapped him out of his trance. Quickly switching back to his professor mode, he looked back at the roster and called out the rest of the names, tic marks and blanks boxes galore down the long sheet. 

Like his life, his class structure was regimented, and while he thoroughly enjoyed history, he found it difficult, tedious even, to drone on about pre-revolutionary war America for hours. Sometimes it was enough to make his eyes almost glaze over; while it annoyed him that it got to his students as well, he couldn’t always blame them. But there was something about today, the way that you had smiled at him, that sent a spark off deep within him, and something just snapped. He found himself moving more about the lectern, his hands waving more animatedly as he gave his introductory lecture, and most importantly of all, he found himself stealing glances at you. And you met his glances, almost in a challenging way, never looking away when his gaze lingered a few seconds longer than necessary. 

But, like everyone else, you were eager to pack up your bag and leave when he was finished and excused everyone. You glanced at him a few times as you slid your notebooks and textbook back into your satchel, wondering if you should introduce yourself, or hell, if he really even cared. But instead of acting on any impulses and potentially making a fool out of yourself, you hitched the bag further up your shoulder and left along with the rest of the crowd, letting them swallow you up and allowing you to blend in. It was the end of the day, everyone was eager to get home, especially after the first day of the new semester. Javier was too; first days were always tiring just alone with administrative tasks and getting to know hundreds of new names and faces. But none of them mattered, not really, they were just more students in an endless sea that he would teach and then forget about as soon as finals were graded and returned. 

But somehow...you stuck in his mind. Your face, your curious eyes and soft little smile were already burned into his mind. He found himself musing on it, on how intently you had scribbled down notes, even if he didn’t feel like there was anything to memorize, how your leg bounced up and down the few times your mind seemed to wander as you had glanced around the room, taking in the other students. A low sigh escaped his lips as he slid his paperwork, texts, and other items into his book bag before throwing it over his shoulder. He wasn’t going to let his mind get hung up on you, or anyone or anything else for that matter. 

Sure, you were pretty, very pretty, but so were plenty of other students. He wasn’t going to lie to him; he could admit, at least to himself, when he found a student attractive. Sure, you had a smile that had spoken to something within him, but  -no. You were one student in a sea of hundreds the had for the semester. You would forget him as soon as you turned in your final and went on winter break. He was sure of it. Javier Peña was trying to be a good man, and letting his thoughts go wild about a student was definitely not part of that plan.

When he got home that evening, he walked in the door and left his bag on the small dresser he kept in the hallway, followed by his keys and shoes before eagerly greeting Stevie. He’d stopped by between classes to take check on him, always making sure he had plenty of food, water, and pets before he had to go back. He glanced around the small kitchen, already pondering what he would make for dinner, knowing he was stocked up on everything he would need for the week. In his retirement from the DEA he had become a meticulous planner, something that easily kept his mind busy, and Sundays had become his grocery shopping days were he loaded up on necessities for the week. It was robotic and allowed for little free thought; routine, routine, routine. 

But before he could flick on the soft kitchen light, his hand lingered on the switch, fingers drumming lightly against the plastic plate while he contemplated his next move. Instead of flipping it on,  he dropped his hand and grabbed Stevie’s leash off of the counter-top, dropping to his knees as the small dog wagged his tail in sheer excitement at the prospect of a walk. He gave him a few pets as he clipped the lease on, making sure his large ears received a good scratch.

“What do you say you and I go and pick up some pizza, huh? We’ll even get some beer. Call it a guys’ night,” Stevie made a small sound of excitement, clearly acquiescing to Javier’s plan. He stood back up to his full height, his joints crackling lightly as he grabbed his thin windbreaker, wallet, and keys, slipped his shoes back on and walked out the door, his mind already on the pizza place a few blocks away. It wasn’t even anything he really gave too much thought to, it was most certainly not part of his plan. No, this was all new - a break.

It was the first Javier Pena had strayed from his evening routine in almost three years. 

»»————-　♡　————-««

As soon as you stepped through the door of your apartment you let out a long sigh as you tossed your book bag onto the floor and stumbled into the living room, flopping face down on the well worn couch. Sarah, your closest confidant and roommate throughout your college experience, looked up from her book and with a small smirk on her face. She’s gotten out of her classes and finished for the day hours ago. 

“First day was that good, huh?” she pushed her glasses further up the bridge of her nose, as you turned your head to glare at her. She was in her last year of school too but had been smart, so you’d come to realize, and taken more classes than she needed in earlier years so her last year would be a breeze. You envied her and wished you’d done the same; now you were stuck with classes that were long, tedious, and required more thinking than you would have liked. 

“I don’t know how I’m going to survive this semester,” you admitted with a heavy sigh; you had no one to blame but yourself. It still didn’t make your little pity party any better, “today’s classes were...boring at best, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a teacher that cared less than my last one. The topic’s already not my favorite, clearly not his, and I have no clue how I’m going to survive the semester, and this stupid class was the only one open that satisfied one of my last requirements. I’m trying to be excited, you know, to trick myself into liking it, but I dunno if that’s gonna work out.”

“If it all goes to hell, there’s always next semester,” she offered with a shrug before closing her book and tossing it on the coffee table, “what class it is?”

“Pre-revolutionary war American history,” you groaned as she gave you a pained look. Nothing about any of the words that spilled forth from your mouth sounded even remotely exciting, “aka hell. Whoever decided that there should be a whole dedicated college course to this subject clearly wasn’t in their right mind.”

“Hey,” she said suddenly, slipping out of the arm chair and trekking into the small kitchen, before rustling through a static of old mail. She was silent for a few moments before letting out a small aha and grabbing something out before tossing it at you, “I thought that class sounded familiar. Isn’t the guy teaching it the one that in the teacher highlight thing for this month or whatever?”

“You actually think I read this?” you scoffed and took the small magazine, shifting through the pages as you tried to find what she was referring to you. You made it almost to the end before finding the small article hidden and tucked away at the back. Quickly skimming it, you found your professor’s small, grainy, black and white picture staring back at you, “Javier Peña. Yup, that’s him.”

“He’s hot,” Sarah quipped over your shoulder as you silently rolled your eyes at her. That was most definitely not why you had signed up for the class. While you weren’t about to admit you mirrored her thought, you couldn’t help but think she was right. There was something about the small photo looking back up at you that suggested he was...very attractive. Hell, you’d seen him in person, and could confirm. The few times you’d gotten a good look at his face, when he wasn’t bent over his notes or facing the board, you couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Tan, golden skin, thick dark hair and eyes, a handsome face. Yeah, he was hot, but you weren’t about to dwell on that, “do you think he’s single?”

“Sarah,” you groaned at her as you read over the article, surprised to find that was ex-DEA, having apprehended some of the most notorious criminals in recent history. He had seemed anything like the man they had discussed in the article when he had stood in front of the class earlier that afternoon, “that is not...no, that has nothing to do with anything. I just need to satisfy a few more credits in history and I’m done. That’s it; nothing more.”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged before giving your shoulder a playful nudge, “a little eye candy doesn’t hurt. Especially when you’re taking a class like that. Good lord it sounds awful, I wonder how he got stuck teaching that. Was he as good looking in person?”

“Sar-ah,” you said with her namely slowly as you shook your head at her and sat up. She picked her book back up, a small playing across her features, “none of that matters. But, if you have to know, yes. He was very good looking, in that older guy kind of way.”

“Go on...” she feigned innocence but you could already see the gears turning in her head.

“There’s not much less to say,” you insisted, internally groaning, “wore glasses when he was teaching, white button up, I dunno, the average professor look.”

A damned white button up that had fit him perfectly, highlighting his broad chest, trousers that were slightly tighter than they needed to be, and a silver watch had sat on his wrist. Simple, effective, but yeah, a very good look.

“The average hot professor look, “ she sighed wistfully. The two of you, while best friends at heart, were polar opposites in many ways. While you namely cared about classes and just getting it done, she was more prone to getting lost in her daydream fantasies and pursuing matters of the heart, “I’m just saying! There’s nothing wrong with finding your professor good looking, as long as you’re respectful. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if you think about him at night or when you’re with a boy that you wish was a man like him. Besides, Javier Peña. Professor Peña. That even sounds hot.”

“Why are we friends?” you sighed as you rolled off the couch, a tone of amusement coloring your voice, “why are you the way that you are!?”

“You love me!” she called out after you as you made your way to your bedroom, deciding to get a head start on some work so you wouldn’t already fall behind.

“I’m questioning that,” you stuck your tongue out at her as you grabbed the magazine off the floor and took it along with you. You hoped she wouldn’t notice, but you were sure that her eagle eyed gaze wouldn’t miss a thing, “goodbye and good riddance!’

“Have fun staring at Professor Peña!” your cheeks felt warm and you were sure a deep crimson was already creeping into them. You remained silent as you grabbed your book bag and walked into the room, letting the door slam behind you.

Setting the bag onto your desk, you flopped on your bed as you reopened the magazine and looked back at the small picture again, re-reading the article. It didn’t say much about much him, or speak to who he really was. it was strictly related to business, just like he had seemed to be as he stood in front of the class and gave an almost two hour long lecture with no breaks. He didn’t seem much like a man that was running around and taking down criminals in the heat of Colombia. He had just seemed like a tired, worn out, disinterested man. A far cry from what was presented in the short little article.

And yet...you couldn’t help but think of the few times he met your eyes when he’d occasionally looked up from the board or his lecture notes. You swore there had been a smile on his face then, even if it was a small one, but then again, maybe you had been lost in your own delusions as you had watched him. 

You’d even done your best to actively pay attention and take notes, both wanting him to know that you cared about class and because you knew it would be your downfall if you allowed yourself to miss anything. Even if it wasn’t your cup of tea, you wanted to give him your attention; it wasn’t his fault that it was a tiresome subject - someone had to each it after all. You’d felt bad as you looked at everyone around, all so zombie like and disinterested, looking like they would rather have been anywhere else in the world. You were sure he had noticed it too. 

But you’d already decided to make an effort to actively participate in his class and do your best. You’d quickly scribbled down his office hours and told yourself that if you needed help or had questions you’d ask before you’d let yourself fall behind and struggle. Maybe he didn’t care, he didn’t really seem to, but you did. You somehow felt a need to prove to yourself that you could handle this class, and to prove to him that someone cared, that his efforts were worth it. 

As you dogeared the page with his article on it, you closed the magazine and chucked it into your desk. You didn’t know what his deal was, or wasn’t, but you figured you’d be able to something out of him. Maybe learn more about the man from Colombia, and not just the professor that seemed so lost and wrapped up in his own head.

He had seemed so tired, so...run down that for someone reason it seemed to oddly affect you. Maybe it was because you had seen a glimmer of a smile on his face, watching as his dark eyes had crinkled up the few times he caught your gaze, how it almost reached them fully. Maybe there was more to him, maybe there was more to him than he had wanted to give out. But you were determined to find out what it was. 

You were set that you would try and pull something out of Javier Peña, even if it was just a full smile. Something about him spoke to you, something had drawn you to something, causing an itch that you desperately needed to to scratch. And you sure as hell would.

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

lip sync your way into my heart

( @thecomfortofoldstorries and I got into a fun head-cannon debate last night about Tik Tok POVs and this is what happened)

--- Jaskier has never really been in the loop when it comes to social media. He was behind the curve when he made his Tumblr and he was two years late to sign up for Twitter. It’s no surprise that he finally downloads Tik Tok and makes an account several months after it’s become a viral platform.

That also means all the good usernames are taken; Jaskier types in @buttercup-bard, sees that it’s available, and calls it a day. This isn’t an app he’s going to care about. It’s just to waste time during his forty minute commute to and from campus. 

Alas, he has ADHD...and this shit is addictive.

Especially, he hates to admit, the thirst-trap hotties who do weird, obscure, edgy POV videos. Jaskier knows they’re aimed primarily towards teen and young adult women but he’s a red-blooded Redanian gay. He’s horny. He can watch a few POV Tik Toks on the bus and thirst after pretty boys with big muscles...as a treat.

By Jaskier’s second week of classes he’s found a definite favorite Tik-Tokker (is that what they’re called? Or is it influencer? Jaskier doesn’t care). The guy is gorgeous. He has beautiful honey-gold eyes and long, silvery-white hair; which is appropriate since his handle is @whitehairdontcare. He makes a wide range of content, too. Perfect for Jaskier’s Concerta-focused tastes. There are some dances here and there and some Q&A videos, but for the most part he does POVs. 

Jask and his roommates, Essi and Priscilla, have spent many happy hours poring over Mr. White Hair’s account, watching and re-watching their favorites from his vast repertoire of content. Essi loves his weird, edgy-boi shit. Stuff with titles like “POV: I fight the bully who insulted your haircut” or “POV: you make a deal with the devil for true love”. Stuff that Jaskier would have been into when he still listened to My Chemical Romance on the regular (okay, he still does, but don’t tell Essie). 

Priscilla is a huge fan of Tik Tok dances. She follows every challenge and ranks her favorites, compiling them into a YouTube series that’s more for her self-gratification than anything else. Mr. White Hair is generally towards the top of her list whenever he deigns to follow a trend that doesn’t involve badly applied makeup blood smears. The guy clearly works out and the definition of his body (and the movements of said really hot body) make the dances look so much more fluid and fun. Jaskier and Priscilla clearly share a brain-cell when it comes to appreciating Mr. White Hair’s hotness.

Jaskier’s favorites, of course, are the cute little POVs that lie scattered between all the edgy ones. Stuff made for the softies of Tik Tok. Stuff made for boys like Jaskier. “POV: I fix your car for you” is the one he’s probably re-watched the most. Mr. White Hair is lying on his back beneath a jacked-up blue car, oil smeared in a few strategic places on his face, chest, and arms. At the very end of the Tik Tok he moves the wrench out of the way of his face completely and winks directly into the camera.

Jaskier hates to admit it, even to himself, but no matter how many times he’s watched that stupid twenty-give second video, that wink drops his heart straight down into his shoes and fills his stomach with butterflies.

---

“Hey do you guys carry fake blood here?” an almost terrifyingly deep voice asks from behind him. Jaskier twirls around on his heel, Retail Smile firmly in place, and loses his shit the moment he sets eyes on his latest customer.

It’s Mr. White Hair.

Here. In the middle of the aisle of the Party City where Jaskier works every weekend. He’s either going to throw up or pass out or both. 

He doesn’t though. Instead, the Demon Lord of Retail possesses his body momentarily and nods, “Right over this way!” He leads the insanely attractive influencer over to the year-round section of Halloween FX makeup and gestures towards the shelf filled with various fake blood capsules, bottles, and packets. 

“Thanks,” Mr. White hair smiles. Jaskier nods again, silent, and drifts back towards the counter in a daze. He’s the only one on shift right now (it is not a very busy Party City) and he knows that he can’t pass out on the dirty tile floor or he’ll get fired (and perhaps tetanus). He just needs to power through the next few minutes and then he can crouch next to the helium tank and freak the fuck out.

But not until Mr. White Hair is gone.

Just as Jaskier is re-learning how to breathe normally, the sexy internet star makes his way towards the counter with an armful of products and the retail worker loses it again. Thank god for the ability to compartmentalize.

“So, just these for you?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“No problem! I love your Tik Toks by the way,” Jaskier replies automatically. His eyes widen slightly. Why the fuck did I mention his Tik Toks!?

“Thanks,” the guy says and blushes. “I didn’t know they’d gotten so popular.”

“You have like two million followers?” Jaskier laughs. “I think that makes you pretty popular. Maybe even famous.”

“Oh yeah...right.” 

“Anyway, your total is going to be twenty-one fifty.”

Mr. White Hair pays and Jaskier bags all his fake blood, wondering the whole time exactly what kind of content he can look forward to seeing. More of Essi’s edgy shit, apparently. As he’s handing the plastic bag over the counter, Jaskier smiles and works up the courage to ask, “Is your hair naturally white? I don’t mean to pry, it’s just really pretty.”

Geralt’s face goes slightly pinker than before and he nods. “Yeah. Weird genetic thing. Thanks.”

“No problem. Right on,” Jaskier beams. “Well, it was nice meeting a famous person. Thanks for stopping in.”

“Thanks for helping me out,” the Tik Tokker replies. Jaskier watches him exit the store before ripping his phone from his pocket and dialing Essi. He needs to talk to her before he spirals into a giddy panic attack.

---

“Hey Jask have you seen that hot guy’s latest Tik Tok?” Priscilla asks, lounging across her futon like a queen. Jaskier looks up from his copy of The Collective History of Aedirnian Funeral Dirges and wrinkles his eyebrows in confusion.

“No, why?”

“You should go check your phone. I think you’ll be happily surprised.”

“Oh-kay,” Jaskier says, drawing out the ‘kay’ for as long as it takes him to get up from his seat on the floor and exit the room. He retrieves his phone from the charger in the kitchen and returns to Priscilla’s bedside. He opens his new favorite app and pulls up @whitehairdontcare’s page. There’s a new POV from earlier this morning and Jaskier taps on it. 

His eyes go round when he reads the caption: “POV: You’re the cute cashier at the Party City and I’m bad at flirting”. 

Mr. White Hair is staring into the camera with those beautifully golden eyes, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck with his hand while he lip syncs to whatever song is playing. He’s wearing a tight, navy blue v-neck and Jaskier can see the movement of every one of his ridiculously defined muscles as they flex. The silver wolf’s-head necklace Mr. White Hair always wears around his neck is in its usual place, dangling down between those perfect collarbones…

Jaskier takes a shaky breath and glances up at his friends, who are staring back at him with wide eyes. “It could be about anyone.”

“How many Party Cities do you think he went to yesterday?”

“I’m not going to get my hopes up,” Jaskier snorts. “He’s a social media influencer and I am one semester away from finishing my degree and my thesis. Why would he ever want to be with someone like me?”

Essi rolls her eyes and Jaskier goes back to his homework. 

---

Later that night, alone in his room, Jaskier plugs his earbuds into his phone and watches the Tik Tok over and over. He finds the song Geralt used and adds it to his Work Is Tough playlist, which he’s allowed to play over the loudspeakers at the store so long as he’s working a solo shift.��

He watches Mr. White Hair’s plush pink lips move around the words and dreams of kissing them someday, as far-fetched as that scenario is (because this video is definitely not for him, that’s impossible):

“My hopes are so high that your kiss might kill me.

So won't you kill me, so I die happy.

My heart is yours to fill or burst, to break or bury,

or wear as jewelry; whichever you prefer.”

Fucking Dashboard Confessional. Of course. One of Jaskier’s favorite bands from his emo days in middle school. If this really was for Jaskier, if this really was a legitimate attempt at online flirtation by Mr. White Hair himself, it was working.

 Jaskier buries his head in his pillow and sighs. 

#geraskier fic #geraskier tik tok au #there will be a part 2 i promise #geraskier fanfic #geraskier #geraskier au #all I do is make aus all day and work retail #geraskier fluff #flirty geralt #influencer geralt #party city employee jaskier #college student jaskier #geraskier college au #geraskier alternate universe #oops I keep making cute shit

[kookingtae]

falling into you (pt. 7)

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3 | pt. 4 | pt. 5 | pt 6

→scenario: Jungkook’s innocence is like a breath of fresh air in your wild life, and though you know you’re toxic for him, you just can’t seem to stay away.

→genre: college au, slow burn, mutual pining, shy/nerd jk + bad girl oc (mature themes)

→word count: 21k+

→tw: mentions of child abuse and neglect/abandonment, abuse of drugs/alcohol

→a/n: NOT COMPLETED YET

You felt like you were going to suffocate the moment you stepped into Jungkook’s room.

The memories came rushing back to you like a tsunami, waves and waves of so many different emotions crashing over you and threatening to crush your windpipes only after strangling you whole. You didn’t know what was so difficult; you’d been in Jungkook’s room multiple times before, hadn’t you? You were fine then (if the storm of emotions in your chest and butterflies in your stomach could be considered fine). What made it so different now?

But the moment Jungkook turned to you, the soft exhale falling from his faintly parted lips causing you to become hyper aware of the rhythm of his breathing surrounded by perfectly pink lips, you understood.

It was hard for you to grasp the concept of actually being nervous, giddy after your first real kiss with someone. A kiss had always been just that to you: a kiss. They were all the same. 

“I uh–“ Jungkook cleared his throat, and if you didn’t know better you’d say he was feeling the same way you were. “We can sit at the desk to study. I’ll take my roommate’s chair; he’s never here anyways.”

You raised a skeptical brow at him, the faintest hint of amusement on your lips as if to say, really. “He’s never here?”

A fiery blush instantly inflamed his cheeks. “Y-you just have bad timing is all.”

The fact that he considered his roommate interrupting your kiss bad timing made your heart speed up way more than you’d like to admit.

“Well let’s hope timing is on my side today,” you managed to say with the practiced ease of coy confidence despite being the most nervous you’ve ever been around a guy, sauntering past him and taking a seat in his desk chair. 

Jungkook stayed frozen for a moment before eventually pulling up Trip’s chair a safe yet manageable distance from you, and you were surprised by the normalcy of the situation as you started actually studying.

Things were a little slow at first, what with Jungkook’s timid nature of stumbling over his words and you not knowing a single thing about the class you’ve supposedly been in for an entire semester. But after a while, things began to go smoothly. You found a chapter that aligned with the notes you printed off, and Jungkook was in his element.

It surprised you how smart he was. You always knew he would be, what with the classes he’s taking and how much he prioritizes studying. But getting to see him in action, that was the real catalyst of the evening. You found yourself getting lost in the motion of his fingers over the pages, the movement of his lips as he spewed knowledge of advanced cell division. And when it came time for you to answer a question, Jungkook blinked at you expectantly while your eyes stayed glazed over in the daze of your reverie.

“Uh...” Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks heating up under the scrutiny of your stare. “Y/N?”

That certainly got your attention; a sound you weren’t accustomed to hearing fell from his lips in the form of your name, and within seconds you were snapping out of it and looking at him in surprise while desperately trying to ignore the somersaults in your stomach. “Yes?”

“We were talking about which phase this nuclear subdivision occurs?”

You blinked at him. “Phase... one?”

“S-phase.”

“What?”

“We’re analyzing the nuclear subdivision of S-phase,” he sighed, putting his pen down and turning to face you. “You’re not listening to any of this, are you?”

“I am, I really am,” you frowned, the idea of him thinking you weren’t appreciative of his efforts breaking your heart. “I mean... I’m honestly trying to. The truth is,” your shoulders deflated with a sigh, “it’s kind of hard to focus with you, Jungkook.”

His brows shot up at that. “W-with me? What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing!” You hurried to reassure him. “You’re perfect. I-I mean—this, this is perfect.” You gestured around the desk, your cheeks aflame. “It’s just... I...” another sigh left your lips; the innocent concern in his doe eyes was heart wrenching. “I’m sorry. I just need to take this more seriously. We can continue.”

And so you did. Jungkook wasn’t the type to question your words, so thankfully you didn’t have to explain your flustered stutters. And no matter how strong the magnetic pull that he had over you was, the song of the sirens drawing you closer and closer until the thought of kissing him was burning in your brain like an iron brand, you somehow managed to have control over yourself and hold back. You wanted to be respectful, to gain Jungkook’s trust so that he didn’t think you were just using him to get laid rather than actually wanting his help, because that couldn’t be further from the truth.

And so you studied and studied and studied until the little clock at Jungkook’s bedside read 11:00 at night and the boy next to you let out a yawn.

You, on the other hand, felt delirious—exhausted from the mental overload yet wired from the boy’s presence, like a coffee addict after pulling an all nighter. You pressed your forehead to the textbook; the pages were cool against your heated skin.

“I s-should probably get to sleep,” Jungkook mumbled—the boy who could confidently spew scientific data all day long but had trouble saying goodbye. “Early class is tomorrow.”

“Right.” You tried to mask the disappointment in your voice; the last thing you wanted to do was make him feel bad for wanting to sleep. You wanted him to sleep. He worked too damn much. “I should probably get going too. Another word about cells and my brain will physically implode.”

Jungkook chuckled—a soft, rare sound that had your heart leaping in your throat. You wanted nothing more than to stay with him—no amount of time ever seemed long enough—but you really didn’t know how much more studying you could take. You were lost in thought staring at the way his perfectly pink lips moved a majority of the time anyway. The sight made your body heat up—specifically your cheeks and groin.

You didn’t like the feeling of blushing. It was something you weren’t accustomed to, something that didn’t usually happen. You never really got embarrassed about anything, and the idea of blushing around a boy was completely nonexistent in your life. But with Jungkook, everything’s changed... your entire world had been flipped upside down. Nothing was as you knew it before.

You didn’t like the feeling of not being in control of your own emotions like this. It was completely different than letting loose with drugs or alcohol; you were choosing to alter your state of mind with those substances. But to be completely at the mercy of someone else... it was foreign. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve ended things immediately.

But this was Jungkook. And no matter how scary these changes were, he made you want to change. For him.

***

After saying your goodbyes to Jungkook that night, the two of you agreed to meet whenever you both were free. He needed to find time for the ample amount of studying of his own that he did, of course, and you had no problem canceling plans for a frat party or smoke session with friends to go see him. 

Your friends didn’t seem to share the same sentiment, however.

“We never see you anymore,” Taehyung frowned one day when you turned down a visit to the local bar off campus in favor of meeting Jungkook after class—to see if he wanted to study, of course.

“Tae, I live with you.”

“I mean we, as a group,” he whined, completely unfazed. “You spend all your time at Jungkook’s beck and call now.”

You merely scoffed. “Okay, that’s not true, first of all. I spend literally every waking moment with you guys because I don’t own a car. And second of all, that’s only because his ‘beck and call’ is fucking rare! It’s not like it happens all the time!”

“Hey.” A deep voice suddenly cut in to quell the conversation, and when you turned your head Yoongi was taking a joint from between his lips. You watched as he inhaled again before slowly letting the smoke escape and dissipate into the chilled night air.

There was a moment’s silence before: “I think what Tae’s trying to say is that it just feels like you’ve changed,” Suzy chimed in without prompt. “Not your personality or anything, obviously, but just like... you don’t really participate anymore.”

As if on cue Namjoon passed you a blunt, and you started to bring it to your lips out of habit before suddenly realizing what you were doing and quickly passing it to Jimin. Your expression turned sheepish as you directed your attention to Suzy.

“That’s not fair,” you grumbled. They knew how you felt about him. They knew how much you had been pining after him since the moment you met, and they knew how closed off Jungkook was. Couldn’t they just be happy for you that you were finally making progress? “You make it seem like I don’t have fun anymore. The only thing I’ve given up is smoking—only when I’m seeing him after—and sleeping around!”

Your friends paused at your words, and you didn’t think you were imagining the literal cricket sounds in the background of the silent forest. 

“You’ve given up sex?” Lynn was the first to speak.

“You guys make it sound as if it was a conscious decision,” you chuckled awkwardly in an attempt to lighten the mood. “I just wanna focus on him for a while, okay?”

“Yeah but...” Hoseok trailed off before glancing at your friends.

“Honey, I think what we‘re trying to say is we don’t know... how long he’s going to take to put out.” Kate interjected in a gentle tone. “You could be waiting a while, and there’s nothing wrong with fulfilling the need while you wait. You two aren’t dating yet, right?”

“But that’s just it: I don’t have the desire right now,” you shrugged. A part of you really wished you hadn’t given up a hit of that blunt. You could use it right about now. “Not with anyone but him, at least. Our connection, guys...” you trailed off with a shake of your head in disbelief and bit your bottom lip. How did you even begin to describe the visceral, intangible connection you had whenever the two of you were around each other? The literal fucking spark of electricity when you merely touched? “And besides, I’m fine waiting; I’m not a fucking addict.”

“We’re just trying to look out for you,” Suzy smiled softly. “We don’t wanna see you choose to do something you’ll regret later.”

“It’s just new to us,” Jimin chimed in. “We’re used to seeing this carefree, wild and crazy side of you. I never even knew you had the capacity to retain this many emotions.”

“Okay, fuck you,” you snorted, and the rest of them joined in on the laughter. It wasn’t until you checked your phone moments later that you jumped up from your seat on the picnic bench. “Shit, Jungkook should be getting out of class now. I’m gonna go see if he wants study.”

Tae teasingly made a whipping motion with his hand along with the sound, and you rolled your eyes in amusement before heading down the familiar path through the woods that led out on the other side of the science building. 

While heading in the direction of the arts building that Jungkook would be leaving at any second now, you couldn’t help but think about how this moment paralleled the first time you ever met him. You had just smoked in stoner’s trail before waltzing through the campus like some fucking contemporary dancer, music in your head and high out of your mind before the senses were knocked right out of you—figuratively and literally—when you accidentally bumped into the freshman boy. You had been walking the same exact route you were walking now, and yet the mindsets you were in couldn’t be more different. Not just because you had been under the influence, but just in general—the way you viewed things, your current choice of lifestyle. You still held the same morals, don’t get you wrong; no one could ever change the core beliefs of who you were. But before, there wasn’t anything more to life than living in the present, than partying and being free.

It was funny how while trying to be the epitome of free, you had unknowingly put yourself in a cage, unable to break away from the social construct of the cycle you’d put yourself in since your own freshman year. 

Well, to hell with constructs. To hell with rules of sleeping with people and never letting your armor crack. It felt so nice to finally want to share that part of yourself with someone—the part you’d kept hidden for so long, the part you’d wanted to keep buried from even yourself.

You always thought Jungkook’s way of living was so different from yours—that he was timid and distant while you were outgoing and confident—but it turned out Jungkook just didn’t bullshit his way through life. He didn’t put on a mask and pretend to be someone he’s not; he wasn’t afraid of being alone. And while the outward projections of your personality weren’t fake—you were still unapologetically yourself, through and through—it still kept hidden the deeper, darker aspects you didn’t want anyone to see. There still hasn’t been a single person in your life that you’ve opened up to about your past. And maybe, that meant you were more alone than you thought.

But there was something about this boy that was different—not how he acted, but how he made you feel. You wanted to open up to Jungkook, as scary as that was. And you weren’t going to let the cage of fear keep you trapped from doing so.

Easier said than done, you thought as you approached the arts building and broke out into a prickling sweat when you saw the magnificent boy standing there, under the streetlamp, waiting for you.

Your footing stuttered, stunned. He was waiting for you. You realized with a fluttering heart just how much times had actually changed.

When he saw you approach, his eyes resembled his usual deer-in-headlights expression upon making eye contact before he turned to face you fully. You could’ve sworn the corners of his mouth turned up to just barely form the beginnings of a smile, but your eyes must’ve been playing tricks on you. He’s never been happy to see you, ever.

“Hi,” you spoke on exhale in a breathless tone once you slowed to a stop in front of him, hair windswept behind you after the brisk walk you’d taken to get here in time and cheeks tinged pink from the cold as you beamed up at him; the expression came natural, as if your teeth couldn’t help but bare themselves in his presence.

“Hi,” he replied, his features mirroring your own. You melted at the sight of his shy smile. “I uh– I got your text.”

“You want to study?” You raised your brows at the suggestion, then before your big mouth could shut up its rambling: “Well, me studying—you tutoring, I guess...” you trailed off with a chuckle, mentally berating yourself.

Jungkook nibbled on his bottom lip, an action that always drew your close attention in longing before he finally nodded. “Yeah.”

The trek to his dorm was thankfully not a long one as the temperatures seemed to be dropping by the millisecond this time of night. You welcomed the familiar silence by Jungkook’s side and tugged your jacket closed tighter across your chest, and you weren’t sure if it was just your imagination or wishful thinking but it seemed that the two of you would drift closer to one another as you walked.

There was thankfully no roommate again in Jungkook’s dorm when the two of you entered; it could be a hit or miss these days, what with the way he kept barging in on you two at the worst of times.

You sat your backpack down on his desk—Tae gave you one of his old ones once you admitted that you never actually owned one—and the two of you set to work on shoving so much nuclear subdivision down your throat that you almost wished for death.

“Death would be a kindness, actually,” you sat up with a groan and rubbed your temples, “compared to dealing with this shit.”

“Well, technically, you deal with it everyday,” Jungkook threw in matter-of-factly, and when you shot him a look behind lids low with a mixture of exhaustion and boredom, he trailed off with a nervous chuckle. “‘Cause, you know... with... cells.”

“Can we please take a break?” You sighed before crossing your legs beneath you and turning to face him. “My brain needs time to process everything.”

“I thought you said you wanted to study tonight?”

“I did—I do, just...” you frowned, not wanting to seem unappreciative of his efforts. Haven’t you been studying for the past two hours? Just how hard did this boy go when it came to cramming? “Can’t we play a quick game or something? Just to take our minds off of it for a bit.”

Jungkook had his eyes widened, and it was impossible not to shift under his scrutiny when you would normally be calm and collected. “A g-game?”

“Yeah, it could be anything!” You put a hand to your forehead with your elbow resting on the desk, eyes desperately scanning his room as you tried to think of something. “It could be as simple as a staring contest for all I care. A staring contest!” You raised your brows at the sudden idea, grasping at straws. “If I win we get to take a real break, and if you win we can go back to studying.”

Jungkook blinked at you, his lips slightly agape as he seemed to process your words. After a couple moments of fidgeting, he finally replied, “uh... okay.”

You grinned at his agreement to your antics and started getting situated in your seat. He followed suit shortly after, wiping his palms on the sides of his pants and adjusting his posture.

“Ready?” You asked, amusement dancing on your lips.

He took a deep breath before nodding, and it was when you said go! that his eyes fixed you with the most intense stare you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

Instantly your entire body stiffened; the reaction was visceral, and the icy hot heat in your veins felt like hell frozen over as you resisted the sudden urge to choke on your hitched breath and call time out.

Never had you been subjected to his prolonged gaze before—the exact opposite, actually. You vividly remember when you used to fight to get him to make eye contact with you, so to say the contrast was making your head whirl would be putting it lightly. It also gave you the first chance to study the swirling pools of brown that were his eyes, so you were going to do just that.

You never noticed just how complex his eyes really were; they held a terrifying amount of depth to them. Don’t get you wrong, they were one of your favorite things about him—just the thought of the big orbs was enough to turn your insides to mush—but never had you been bestowed the privilege of staring into them so unabashedly, so unapologetically and freely as you were now. And by god, were they beautiful.

You watched as a shade of pink sprouted on the apples of his cheeks, first in soft rosy hues and then in bright crimson as it made a trail all the way to the tips of his ears. You bit your lip to keep from smiling at the endearing sight, if only to save your lids from the instinctive blink that was currently eating away at you, and it was when his gaze followed the action that his cheeks really became aflame.

Eventually he cleared his throat and readjusted himself, his competitive nature seemingly starting to shine through, and that was when the intensity of his gaze burned through the distance between you like fire. It scorched your skin until the small dorm room started to feel like an oven and your breath was stifled in the heat that boiled between you. Your breathing turned shallow; it felt like you were drowning in his gaze the longer he held you captive with his eyes without any means of returning to the surface for that redeeming gasp of air. Your body began to prickle with a darker, deeper sensation—first in the palms of your hands, then to the depths of your core.

You gulped. Your mouth was suddenly drier than the Sahara desert, though water was the last thing on your mind as you watched his tongue slip out to quickly wet his lips before returning to the caverns of his mouth again, and that was when you held back an audible groan.

It‘s as if the universe was taunting you.

A replay of your stolen kiss in this bedroom many nights ago appeared in your head, and you physically pressed your thighs together to keep from doing something rash. You still wanted to respect his boundaries, still wanted him to take you and your reason for being here seriously. Yet the memory continued to fester in your mind like an open wound, coming further and further to the forefront of your brain, and you shifted in your seat while forcing the feeling down to try to steady your erratically beating heart.

You had never experienced anything like this before. Sure, you were more than used to gazing into someone’s intense eyes in much more intimate settings than this—when they were over you, under you, inside you. But for some reason, those instances had no where near the same effect that Jungkook’s gaze had on you in a mere staring contest. What were you, in grade school?

It was embarrassing is what it was; you didn’t get flustered. It just didn’t happen to you. You were always able to keep your cool, to hold yourself together while the other person was usually the one melting in the palm of your hand. That was what you were accustomed to, and so this foreign concept of blushing and thinking about nothing but how badly you wanted to feel someone’s lips was completely new to you.

And so after a beat of tension, you decided to throw all caution to the wind and succumb to it.

•••

Jungkook felt like he was being burned alive.

Having to remain still, unmoving and scrutinized under Y/N’s gaze sounded like a nightmare when she’d first suggested it. He actively tried to avoid eye contact with her, lest he burst into flames right there on the spot, and now she wanted him to be forced to stare at her? Without any means of escaping?

He couldn’t think of anything more terrifying.

He felt vulnerable. There was something so intimate about eye contact—how no one could mutter a sound, and yet right now the entire room seemed to constrict against the flood of unspoken words that drowned the air around them. The eyes were the windows to the soul, they’d say, and Jungkook felt he may as well be carving his out and handing it to her on a silver platter what with the way her gaze formed unstoppable electricity between them. It made him nervous, to have her so close to him in this intangible way, and the thought had him squirming in his chair with an instinctive need to put up his walls.

Though he was sure that not even closing his eyes would grant him solace now, because she had now worked her way into every fiber of his being through the glistening mirrors of her eyes and planted a seed of strange emotion inside of him that felt so deep, so primal that it had grown monstrous in just the short amount of time they’d been playing this self-sabotaging game.

Instantly he could feel his cheeks aflame; they felt white hot against the rest of his burning skin, though the sensation didn’t show any signs of stopping when she suddenly started to lean forward.

Her movements were slow, subtle, as if his body was a magnet physically pulling her to him, yet she had to be aware of what she was doing. He wouldn’t even have noticed had he not been paying such close attention to her as he always was. And even though he wanted nothing more than to lean forward as well and close the remaining distance between them, a thought he’d had on his mind since that fateful night in his dorm room, he suddenly panicked, and—

“I-I blinked,” he suddenly stumbled out through shaking lips before turning away, his eyes closing to ease the sting after holding them open for so long. “Looks like you won.”

He couldn’t do it. Jungkook was competitive by nature, so normally he wouldn’t have thrown the challenge so willingly, but he didn’t know what else to do. Not when she was staring at him so sinfully and moving so close he could practically feel the breath from her lips on his, and suddenly every nervous bone in his body was taking over and his fight or flight kicked in. And he fled every time.

He would kick himself for this—for pushing away the opportunity to kiss her again. He knew he would, as he could already feel the inklings of regret creeping in and rearing its ugly head within his gut like the head of a serpent. Fear would be his demise.

Though Y/N must’ve been able to see this on his face as well, because there was sudden slight shake of her head as if to say fuck it before she grabbed the tip of his chin between her thumb and index finger and gently brought his lips to hers.

•••

You could hear his breath catch in his throat the moment your lips finally touched his, could feel his sweet exhale as it danced on your skin. You were aware that all of these reactions were happening, and yet they sent your insides into a tumultuous frenzy anyways.

Nirvana. That’s what kissing Jungkook felt like—as if you had finally reached your destination of enlightenment and could finally experience true happiness. It was such a sweet, sweet relief after pining over the sensation for so long, though you couldn’t be further from inner peace; every nerve in your body was instantly electrocuted with pure white heat, every hair on your arm standing tall from the elicited goosebumps. And there was a sharp pleasure that snapped at the base of your neck, shooting all the way down your spine and churning your stomach like a raging storm on a restless sea before making home in the pit of your core.

Your memory hadn’t done his lips justice. How was it possible that it felt even better than you imagined? You’d done nothing but play your kiss on repeat in the highest regard of your mind since the moment it ended, yet it was no where near the same as being here in this moment with him against you. This was it. Kissing him were the best moments of your life thus far.

And though the stiffness of Jungkook’s body only turned rigid with shock at the feeling of your sudden actions, he was no where near as distraught as when you’d kissed him the past two times (once, not even returning to brief peck and another, taking what seemed like an eternity to finally come to). No, it was this time that he finally seemed to be warming up to you as it took him only a few moments to reciprocate your kiss, and your heart was singing in your chest when he did.

You knew it had to be the result of your efforts. Thanks to your tutoring sessions, he had become more comfortable and at ease with your presence over time. You were slowly worming your way past the tall barriers of his guarded heart. At least, that’s what you liked to think. That’s what you hoped.

And so you didn’t waste any time kissing him like you’ve been wanting—needing to ever since your lips last left his. Every emotion, every desire that you never even knew you could feel were brought to life inside the caverns of your heart, igniting like the flickering flame of a candle and bursting into a forest fire that left a blazing trail in the wake of his touch. You always thought romance novels were bullshit until you realized that the literal fireworks that would burst behind them when they kissed were metaphors for the figurative fireworks that you now felt exploding within you in a pinwheel of colors that matched his eyes. You were consumed by him, and god, did you want to be consumed by him.

The heated escalation that the two of you were robbed of last time was not missed tonight; you carefully brought your hand to his neck again, so not to scare him off with something new, and it was then that Jungkook’s hand gently settled on top of yours. You paused, worried that he would remove your hand—was this too much? But when you felt his fingers suddenly curl into yours to anchor your hold to him, fire erupting from his initiated contact as he leaned into your touch, all hell broke loose.

You felt like an addict, the way you craved him over the air you breathed. Instead it was his scent you were taking into your lungs, his touch that was like an overdose of morphine straight to the blood stream. And when it seemed promising that his front door would stay shut this time, no signs of his interrupting roommate in sight, there was nothing stopping the two of you from breaking past the barriers previously set and finally letting go.

Your hand slid from his neck to his shoulder and it was like your body had a mind of its own, some deeper instinct that you had no control over taking the reins as you closed the small gap between you and moved to situate yourself on his chair, in his lap, a primal need taking over to be as close to him as possible and feel every–

Your second knee didn’t make it onto his chair before he was suddenly shooting upright to stand on his feet, the sudden loss of his lips feeling like a splash of cold water striking you awake from your deeply charged daze. You barely even noticed how you almost landed on your ass as you stumbled back unceremoniously from his departure, for all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes.

“J-Jungkook, I’m—I’m so sorry, I–I didn’t–“

“N-no, i-it’s okay.” His voice was hoarse, strained before he cleared his throat. He nervously rubbed the back of his neck, and he was more flustered than you had ever seen him. “I—I think you should probably leave.”

“Jungkook–“

“Now,” he gulped heavily, a pained and almost panicked expression on his face that he seemed to be fighting. “I’m sorry, I’m j-just... I’ve never–“

“Hey, it’s okay,” you swallowed, fighting to keep the pain from your face as you reached forward to place a comforting hand on his shoulder before second guessing yourself and letting it fall back to your side. You offered a soft, understanding smile instead. “I’m sorry, I—I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“No, it’s okay,” Jungkook winced—about what, you didn’t know. “I just uh– I-I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, forcing an optimistic expression despite the growing lump in your throat. “Yeah I’ll uh– I’ll see you later.”

The swell of emotion swarming in your chest threatened to overflow and you knew you had to get out of there, fast. You couldn’t let Jungkook see the buried feelings beneath your  cracking armor of false-confidence—not even after all the progress of self-vulnerability you’d made.

It was the first time you couldn’t leave Jungkook’s dorm soon enough.

Your face crumbled as soon as the door shut behind you. How could you let that happen? You had such a good feeling about the two of you—that he was actually beginning to trust you and let you in—and then you had to go and ruin it. Jungkook would see you as nothing more than promiscuous, think you just wanted to get in his pants, which was exactly what you‘d been afraid of. You knew he’d heard the rumors about you in the past, but you figured if you just continued in your earnest pursuit that he would finally see that you valued him as more, so much more than that.

And all that led to was you getting thrown out after pushing things too far past his comfort zone.

You tried to steady your chest that heaved erratically beneath the weight of promised tears. If Jungkook didn’t hate you before, he definitely did now.

•••

“Ah!”

Jungkook’s grunt was loud with unabashed pleasure as he came in his hand, letting the abundant load wash down the drain and thanking god for the millionth time that he had a scarce roommate. He knew even the heavy water pressure pummeling the shower floor wasn’t enough to mask his sounds; he could normally contain himself under quiet control, but tonight his body had other plans for him. No, he forfeited all control over his body the second he popped a rock solid boner that Y/N was definitely going to feel had she continued her line of pursuit to his lap.

It had been painful, throbbing under the constraint of his jeans, and he knew no matter what that he had to get Y/N out of his dorm before the fear of blowing his load right then and there strangled him whole. It tore him apart to see the look of confusion, the look of hurt in her eyes as she tried to make sense of the whiplash that his sudden objection put them through, but what else could he do? This was further than he ever dreamed of going with her—mentally, emotionally, and physically. To say he was overwhelmed would be putting it lightly.

This time he came more than ever before. He knew it had to be a result of the very real physical intimacy that was happening rather than just a figment of his creative imagination; and the sad part was, nothing had even happened—at least by her standards, he was sure. They had been making out, the experience even more mind-altering than the first if that was even possible, and Jungkook had popped a boner over the mere feeling of her lips, same as before. The only difference this time was that Trip had not been there to interrupt their heated moment, and so Y/N progressed as one usually would in that situation. He couldn’t fault her for it—not when he so desperately wanted the same things. He wanted to feel her as close to him as possible, as scary as that was to admit now that it was so real, so tangible and obtainable. He couldn’t believe it was really happening, and he became so wrapped up in his emotions of the moment that when her first knee made home on the edge of his chair, just outside the thigh of his that was closest to her, he couldn’t stop. All he knew was Y/N, Y/N, Y/N. But when he felt her second knee moving with the intention to straddle his lap, to be as physically close to him as he’d ever let her—as he’d ever let anyone—that’s when he felt his erect member twitch in reminder of just how excited he was in that moment.

He panicked. The thought of her feeling something so intimate in him was mortifying. She’d been with countless men; how embarrassing was it that he was leaking over just a kiss? She’d certainly be able to suspect his inexperience then.

As surprising as it was for him to admit, he just didn’t want to disappoint her. When it came to intimate activities, he was sure she’d seen it all. It wasn’t that he didn’t want things to go further; the mere thought made his entire body break out into goosebumps. He just couldn’t help but feel insecure in comparison.

Which was why he shot up from his chair like the seat was on fire. He hated that he was doing this��absolutely hated it—but the longer she stood there the more he worried she would notice the raging hard-on in his pants. She had to get out of there, and fast, if only for the sake of his sanity.

The way he rushed to the shower the second his door closed made him feel horrible. God, he was no better than a disgusting hormonal teenager, was he? Here she was thinking she had done something wrong, and embarrassment kept Jungkook from reassuring her otherwise. He couldn’t let her walk away thinking this was her fault. He couldn’t.

Hi, he typed out under her name in his phone before he could stop himself—it was all he could do to dry his hands fast enough before his phone got water damage. I just wanted to apologize again for tonight. I didn’t mean for it to feel like I was kicking you out. He chewed on his bottom lip, self-doubt causing him to second guess every word that he was writing, but he refused to let anything be erased. We can meet up again sometime soon if you want? For tutoring

There were only a few minutes of mental berating that he had to endure before her reply chimed in like a breath of fresh air.

it’s no problem, don’t worry about it! i would love that :)

•••

After that, you continued to meet up for tutoring at a casual pace.

You worked hard to make sure your sessions seemed regular, relaxed, so not to add any extra pressure onto Jungkook’s shoulders. You had been on your way to the edge of the road waiting for Namjoon to pick you up when you received Jungkook’s text of forgiveness, and though the genuine gesture warmed your heart, you couldn’t help the way its beating spiked in your chest when you continued reading to see that he made an effort yet again to plan to get together with you.

At the time, you couldn’t believe your eyes. Here you were in the middle of self-loathing, and he was the one contacting you? The natural grin that sparked on your features couldn’t be stopped. Maybe you didn’t ruin things after all. Maybe Jungkook was warming up to you more than you thought.

That being said, you certainly weren’t going to push things at your next sessions. It was clear your previous actions had made him uncomfortable in some way, and that was the last thing you wanted. So you continued to keep things going in a moderate, somewhat professional yet casual manner; as hard as that was for you, it was worth it in the long run. He was worth it.

One of the benefits you loved reaping from your study sessions was that you could see his personality, his true personality that was kept hidden beneath the layers of caution and hesitation that he would wear as armor to keep you out, was finally starting to shine through the cracks. You would catch glimpses of it when you least expected, in a silly quip or witty one liner that he would comeback with after your teasing that would leave you stunned and smiling to yourself at the notion that you were finally seeing Jungkook, the real Jungkook that so few got to know, and you were falling in love with every piece of him.

“So if the mitosis is the powerhouse of the cell then what the fuck is the nucleus?”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said.”

It was another day of studying in his isolated dorm room, and you could not be more over it. The material was beyond tedious and excruciatingly boring at this point, though you would endure a thousand biology lessons if it meant getting to spend time with him.

“My ass still hurts from the last time I sat in this seat,” you pointed out, your brain literally begging to focus on anything other than the words in your textbook. It needed a break. The pain in your backside would do as a viable distraction.

A tut fell from Jungkook’s lips. “Yeah, the desk chairs are pretty uncomfortable.” You watched as his expression fell in favor of nibbling his bottom lip, and you’d studied his shy mannerisms long enough to know that there was something itching at his mind. “You can, um,” he started with a mumbled voice, “you can sit on the bed this time, if you want. I’ll take the chair.”

Your heart pounded in your chest. “No, that’s not fair–“

“I don’t mind,” he smiled softly, and the sight was so rare, so beautiful that it rendered you speechless and you had no choice but to oblige.

His bed was soft and smelled of him; you were instantly transported back to when the two of you had brought a bowl of popcorn up here and turned on One Piece—both of which were quickly forgotten in favor of beautiful boy sitting next to you who demanded all of your attention whether he wanted it or not. It was like you were a moth drawn to his flame; you couldn’t help the magnetic pull every fiber of your being had to him.

You desperately pushed down the memories of the life changing make out session that had happened next, if only for your sanity. “Hey, what if we continued watching One Piece–“

“No.”

•••

“Apoptosis,” you recalled to him after a few hours into your session. “The death of cells.”

Jungkook slowly nodded his head. “Right. It occurs as a normal and controlled part of an organism’s growth or development.”

“Will I have to know all that extra stuff?” You looked up at him under furrowed brows.

He simply shrugged. “Probably. It’s not too hard to remember why it’s happening once you know what it is.”

“Easy for you to say; the textbooks right in front of you!”

You were relieved when he let out a chuckle—one that you would never get tired of hearing—and you couldn’t help but acknowledge how much more comfortable things now were between you. You still had a long ways to go, of course; he still closed up when you spoke too much, returned to his flustered and distant self whenever things got off the topic of biology, and it reminded you of how shy he acted when you first met. But things were definitely better. For instance, you were now able to hold a casual and somewhat teasing conversation with him without scaring him away.

“I guess you’ll just have to study more,” Jungkook replied with a grin, and you rolled your eyes in amusement to ignore the butterflies that were fluttering in your stomach at his seemingly harmless offer to prolong your tutoring.

It all felt so pure, so fresh with him—like you were a giddy school girl all over again with a hopeless crush. And though you knew your feelings were much, much more than that, you couldn’t help but feel young and flustered in his presence.

Another yawn forced its way past your lips as you rested your head on the back of your hands, now fully laying down on top of his bed. Scientific data danced off his tongue as if he were serenading you with poetry, and the sound of his voice was as soothing as smooth velvet and honey as it encased you in a blanket of warmth and lulled you to your dreams.

•••

Jungkook let out a yawn after a particularly long paragraph he’d been reading from the textbook, his eyes flashing to the clock on his phone. 1:04 am, it read.

His eyes widened slightly. Last he checked it was 10:30. How had the time gotten away from him like that? Surely it couldn’t simply be because he lost track while enjoying her company...

He didn’t know why he even bothered to lie to himself anymore.

With another yawn her turned towards her. “I didn’t realize how late–“

He froze mid-sentence, turning rigid in his seat. There, in the middle of his bed with her head on his pillow, hair softly splayed out behind her as she curled on her side, was Y/N.

And she was fast asleep.

He blinked after a moment, if only to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him, but it seemed the efforts were futile. There was no mistaking her still, undisturbed lids that brought her soft lashes to kiss the top of her cheekbones. There was no misinterpreting the slow rise and fall of her chest. And if he listened closely, which he always did, there was no misunderstanding the gentle breaths of air that cascaded from her lips like a soft sea breeze. She was asleep, no doubt about it.

And it was once he realized this, the initial surprise chipping away at his guarded heart, that he softened at the sight. She looked so beautiful, so peaceful like this. He had never seen a more breathtaking scene than the one before him now, and in this moment there was no way he could believe a single one of those incriminating rumors being spread about her. She looked like a breath of innocence laying there, a vast contrast to the reputation that proceeded her, and if Jungkook didn’t know better he would’ve guessed in this moment that she never knew an ounce of pain, had never been corrupted by the harsh realities of life. His classmates’, Trip’s words were nothing but a distant memory as he gazed down at her like she was the sun, moon and stars all wrapped into one, and even though she was in his sanctuary, the one place that he went to for escape from the rest of the world, he wanted nothing more than for her to stay.

A strong, deep and overwhelming emotion threatened to climb its way from his throat in the sudden desperate need to be spoken into existence, but he swallowed the feeling down.

She would take his bed tonight. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

•••

You awoke feeling more well-rested than you‘d felt in a long time.

Instantly warmth enveloped you. And not from in the inside out, but rather the outside in: blankets, fluffy and cozy and billowing around you in a haphazard disarray as evidence that you had a good sleep all night long. The mattress beneath you was comfortable, spacious–

A little too spacious.

Your eyes shot open at the realization, a confused and groggy frown marring your features. This was not the familiar couch at Taehyung’s apartment that you were used to crashing on; this wasn’t a couch at all, in fact.

Oh fuck.

Did you break your number one rule? There’s no way; even in an inebriated state, you always remembered to catch a ride home. It had become second nature, was all you’d known these past three years. There’s no way you could’ve broken it now after all this time. You didn’t even remember drinking last night. Just how fucked up did you get?

You shot upright at the thought, instantly moving to scramble from the bed and swiftly escape the room before the drunken fuck could see. You had to get out of here. How could you have been so careless? Why did you–

It was your body and your mind alike that came screeching to a halt when your eyes fell to the bedroom floor.

He was there on the floor with a pillow and blanket arranged in a makeshift bed, the boy who made your breath hitch at the mere sight of him and sent your heart into overdrive.

Jungkook was asleep. Jungkook let you stay the night. Jungkook gave you his bed.

Suddenly the memories of last night were shifting into view to rearrange all the mangled panic that habit led you to believe upon waking up in an unfamiliar environment. Of course you didn’t party last night and go home with a drunken fuck; you were at Jungkook’s place studying until the early hours of the morning. You must’ve fallen asleep during your session.

Embarrassment tinged your cheeks at the realization, though the thought soon dissipated as the sight of him consumed every single synapses in your brain like it always did.

Your previously rigid and guarded posture soon softened while you gently laid back down on the bed with a sigh, simply gazing at him and unable to peel your eyes away. He was so beautiful that it hurt. You’ve always thought so of course, and even so, seeing him in his most vulnerable state was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. To see him without worry or fear etched into his brow, without his defenses up was truly a work of art and you were the luckiest person in the world to bear witness to it.

The smile that graced your lips was not lost on you, though you simply reveled in the happiness that swarmed your soul as you burrowed back into his sheets and took in the heavenly scent of his that surrounded you. This was his bed, the most private and vulnerable place that you could ever possibly be, and he was allowing you to be here. And that meant that nothing, nothing could pull your head from the clouds of pure heaven that you danced among in this moment.

The sudden swell of deep emotion and realization in your chest was so visceral, so much stronger than anything you’d ever felt before. You never wanted to leave him like this. You wanted to wake up to see him there for a long, long time.

However, the same couldn’t be said for the manner in which you were seeing him; a wave of concern and guilt soon wracked your frame at the fact that he had forgone the comfort of his own bed for you in favor of taking the hard ground. And before you knew what you were doing, you found yourself slipping from between the sheets and onto the floor beside him.

You didn’t know how much time had passed while you admired him. His cheeks were round with sleep, lips plump and pouted looking the most irresistible and adorable you ever knew a human could. There was a lock of soft brown hair that hung across his forehead, and you nearly resisted the urge to brush it from his eyes if only to count the number of lashes dusting his cheekbones.

Nearly being the keyword there—the attempt was futile, of course, as there wasn’t a bone in your body that could resist him.

The spark between both of your nerve-endings danced as your fingers gently caressed his skin, hooking behind the lock of hair and gently sweeping it out of his face in a reverent display of affection. Your touch couldn’t have been any more than a feather, you knew it couldn’t have, and yet his closed lids fluttered anyway.

You quickly withdrew your hand so not to scare the slowly stirring boy before you, though in the end that didn’t stop his surprise upon seeing you.

The speed in which his eyes bulged open was almost comical.

“Y/N?” His lids were still fluttering in groggy confusion when he murmured your name in a voice thick with sleep, and holy hell, you could have died and gone to heaven right then and there for all you knew.

Is this what you’d been missing out on? Did all men’s voices sound this sexy in the morning, or was it just his? You had a very strong feeling it was the latter.

“Sorry for falling asleep during tutoring,” you smiled softly, your voice gentle so to match the reverence of the soft morning glow filtering in around you through the opaque curtains. “I always did find biology boring.”

Though his eyes stayed unwavering on you, his mouth fell open and shut like a fish out of water, seemingly too stunned to speak.

“Thank you for letting me stay over, but you didn’t have to,” you spoke again when it was apparent he wasn’t going to respond, a rosy blush dusting your cheeks. “You could’ve taken the bed.”

“I didn’t want to wake you,” Jungkook‘s voice sounded a gentle rumble after a moment of silence, and if you didn’t know any better the expression in his eyes would lead you to believe he loved seeing your sleeping form in his bed, almost as much as you loved seeing his.

It was a dangerous game, choosing what to let yourself believe as fact or wishful thinking.

Eventually your eyes left his before another staring contest could ensue in favor of glancing past him to the empty side of the room. “Did your roommate already come and go?”

“He didn’t come home,” Jungkook answered, his gaze never leaving your face as he propped himself up on his elbow. He cleared his throat and averted his eyes when you looked back to him. “He doesn’t usually sleep here. Like I said, you just had bad luck before.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that as your heart warmed at his last words. Bad luck that you’d gotten interrupted before but good luck that you didn’t this time; could this mean that he liked spending uninterrupted time with you? That he no longer silently looked for excuses to leave your presence?

“You can go back to sleep in your bed if you want,” your expression turned sheepish as you lifted yourself to your feet. “I didn’t mean to wake you. I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable on the floor.”

Jungkook followed your action with his eyes before sitting up as well and crossing his legs beneath his blanket on the floor. He looked so impossibly cute in the morning: hair ruffled and messy, eyes half lidded and groggy. You tried to stop your gaze from lingering on the way his plain white shirt hung loosely from his broad chest and shoulders, and you had to physically look away to keep from staring at his collarbone peeking from beneath the hem of the fabric. The last thing you needed was to get turned on this morning.

The silence that hung in the air was a comfortable one, though it spoke volumes for Jungkook’s intentions. He apparently wasn’t planning on getting back in bed.

“Do you wanna maybe...” you swallowed down the nerves you were now getting accustomed to upon being around him, “go get some breakfast?”

•••

Jungkook didn’t know what was happening to him.

He didn’t know who he was becoming. Because this person? This person who let Y/N spend the night, who let her sleep in his bed and got breakfast with her the next day like some sort of morning-after routine? This wasn’t him. It couldn’t be.

And yet he found himself doing it anyway.

He’d given his body with a mind of its own free reign at this point, feeling merely like a passenger as he watched these things that he never thought possible unfold before his very eyes. Waking up to the sight of Y/N peering back at him with soft eyes and a gentle smile was something that only happened in his dreams. He’d spent every waking moment since he met the wild senior telling himself that she wasn’t capable of that. That she was bad news and had no interest in anything from him other than a quick fuck. He wanted no part in that—at least that’s what he told himself. Though if that was the case, then how did he make it this far?

However, this was entirely different. This was uncharted territory that he never thought he’d get to explore, and it left him unknowing of how to feel. Had Y/N ever had a relationship quite as genuine, as domestic as this in the midst of all her one night stands? Deep down, he selfishly hoped the answer was no. He allowed himself to hope that he was special, if just this once.

They found their way to a nearby cafe on campus, the blast of warm air upon entering after enduring the crisp morning chill of winter melting his insides to goo. Though upon glancing at the girl beside him, he realized that  his gooey insides had nothing to do with the sudden temperature change.

Jungkook followed her lead over to a table in the corner that was partially hidden from view of the rest of the cafe. He didn’t know if she’d done this on purpose for his preference of isolation or not, but he was appreciative nonetheless.

“Have you ever been here?” Y/N asked him, and the way her cheeks and nose were a soft red from the cold made Jungkook’s gaze dance with captivation.

“No,” he answered after a moment, the two of them taking their seats across from one another at the quaint, round table for two. “I uh, haven’t explored much of campus this semester other than my dorm and the academic buildings.”

He tossed in an awkward chuckle that he hoped countered how lame he knew he sounded. Why would somebody as exciting and adventurous as Y/N want anything to do with a recluse like himself?

Though if she felt one way or another about his statement, she certainly didn’t show it. “This place has the best coffee—if you like coffee, of course. But if you don’t they have other drinks as well. There’s tea if you’re more of a tea person... or hot chocolate. I’m sure they have milk or juice too, and just water.” Her eyes were fixated on the menu in front of her, and so he took the opportunity to admire her downcast features. She was rambling, and he could tell from his own personal experience with the emotion that she was nervous. And though he couldn’t imagine why she would feel such a way around him, it was endearing to see nonetheless.

He was following the graceful lines and curvatures of her face when her eyes suddenly found his again. He quickly snapped them down to look at his own menu. God, even with the winter chill in his bones he was still burning from her presence. Did they sell frozen beverages here?

After the server walked by to take their order (he thankfully was able to order something chilled to cool his insides), Jungkook was surprised at the ease in which their conversation flowed. They weren’t chatting nonstop by any means, but it seemed that studying together had made him a bit more comfortable—something that he wasn’t even aware of until this very moment.

Y/N had always been friendly, but instead of actively letting the topic fall flat like he normally would in favor of checking nearby exits for the perfect escape route, he found himself wanting to match her quips, wanting to hold her attention and keep her interest. And though she still did most of the talking, he wasn’t desperately wanting to return to the isolation of his room to shut himself off from the world like he usually did. He was okay here at their quaint table in the back of the cafe obscured behind some potted plants and with her staring back at him like there wasn’t a single person in the world she’d rather be with in this moment.

“So is computer science turning out to be all you’d hoped for?” There was a lilt of amusement to her tone as she emptied a packet of sugar into her coffee, and Jungkook knew this was because he had told her of his true feelings about the major.

He took a bite of his breakfast, the fork sitting between his lips for a moment in thought before he nodded pensively. “I like the subject. Computers have always interested me. I wouldn’t be majoring in it if I didn’t.”

Y/N nodded at his answer, though it seemed as if she was eluding to more. “And art?”

He looked over at her quizzically. “What about it?”

She shrugged with a small grin on her agonizingly perfect lips. “Are you taking it as an easy elective, or do you have an interest there?”

Jungkook gulped. He never opened up to people about his art. Not even his parents knew; it was just something he didn’t do. “I... I’ve always actually, um, b-been sort of into drawing.”

Well, until now, apparently.

He had no idea what possessed him to actually admit that to her, the first person he’s ever admitted it to besides himself, though the elation that lit up her face at his response was all worth it.

“Is that what your sketch pad is for?” She referenced the booklet that had always been crammed safely between the monstrous textbooks on his desk. He kept it hidden and out of view—or so he thought.

He cleared his throat after a bite of food to keep from choking. Did she really pay that much attention to the details of his room? “I uh—yeah. It–it’s just a way to pass the time.”

“But you take drawing 101 as an elective?”

He didn’t know what prompted him to open his mouth, albeit a bit sheepishly. “A-actually, I uh, I tested out of 101 after meeting with the professor. I take drawing 201.” Certainly his cheeks were the color of beets right now.

Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, but before he could fret over the sheer surprise on her expression, she was speaking again. “Could I see them sometime?”

Now he actually did choke. A cough sputtered from his lips, the expression of concern that was adorning Y/N’s features making the embarrassment even harder to swallow along with his bite of food.

“Are you alright?” She leaned forward with wide eyes and brows knit into a frown.

“Y-yeah, yeah, I’m–“ Jungkook cleared his throat a couple more times to make sure he could breathe properly. “I’m okay. I don’t actually,” he paused, taking a moment to gather himself. “I’ve never actually... let anyone see my sketches before.”

“Oh,” she raised her brows before sitting back. “That’s okay then. I underst–“

“B-but, u-uh, maybe one day,” Jungkook gulped down the aftertaste of word vomit that had just spewed from his lips, his pulse increasing rapidly.

Y/N nodded with a smile then, a beautiful smile that he would never get tired of seeing, and while he was lost in the sight–

“You know...” she peered over beneath her lashes, and the beautiful smile morphed into a small smirk tugging at her lips. “This could technically be considered our second date.”

And it was suddenly that the wind had been knocked out of him. “D-date?”

“If you want,” Y/N shrugged as if the offer was no big deal. “I mean, you did kinda do this whole thing backwards. The least you could do is buy me a meal before getting me in your bed.”

His mouth ran dry at that, parched like a man left in the sweltering sun to match the heat that rose to his bright red face. And though it was obvious she was joking—the teasing grin of amusement on her lips were a dead giveaway—he couldn’t help but focus on the nature of her words in a very serious manner.

Y/N had never dropped a sexual innuendo to him before—not unless he had just been too naive to catch on at first. Regardless, the dirty scenario that her joking words implied was definitely not lost on him now, and it had his heart hammering in his chest.

She had to stop doing this to him. She had to have mercy on his poor soul, because he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. She had the ability to turn his world completely upside down in a matter of mere syllables, and the way those syllables were formed on the tip of her tongue and incredibly soft lips, the lips that he had felt with his own and knew how they tasted and–

His eyes widened. There was no way this was happening again.

The blood went down below in a rush, seeming to happen in slow motion and all at once, and before he knew it Jungkook had popped yet another boner over the thought of Y/N’s lips.

He couldn’t stop the blood draining from his face—probably because it all went to his dick. Was this really the type of person he was now? Someone who was too horny to even control their sexual urges? He didn’t know what had come over him these past couple of weeks, but he couldn’t seem to stop it. All she had to do was smirk at him and suddenly he was some kind of crazy sex addict!

He quickly shifted in his seat, clearing his throat and placing a napkin in his lap to hide his pants. The absolute mortification had to be written across his face; he knew it had to be, because Y/N in all of her painfully adorable obliviousness had misunderstood his sudden turn in behavior.

“I’m kidding! I’m paying of course.”

His head snapped up in shock at that; after the drastic turn of events, her previous words had momentarily slipped his mind until her sudden offer. Did she really want to pay for his meal?

“What? It’s a date,” she grinned.

And despite the circumstances, he couldn’t help but mirror her expression; it came surprisingly natural for him, in fact.

“If that’s the case, then I’ll pay,” he spoke without thinking. Fortunately his boner had started to settle thanks to the topic change, and this was something that he really wanted to do; his mother, as overprotective as she was, was very conservative and always taught him that chivalry should be kept alive.

“No, I’m the one who wanted to take you out.” And though she shook her head with a mischievous smile, her voice still held a tone of resolution to it that told him it wasn’t up for discussion. There was no arguing when the server came by and she handed over her card without even looking at the bill.

And despite having lost this temporary battle, Jungkook couldn’t help but feel the familiar rush of fuzzy warmth spread from his heart throughout the rest of his body like a lovesick poison. Here they were, on a domestic-style breakfast date at the local cafe arguing over normal couple things such as who got to pay the bill. It might’ve been small, something that seemed minuscule in the grand scheme of things, but it meant so much more to Jungkook.

Because it showed the path that they were on. And if things continued progressing the way they were, the wall of ice around Jungkook’s heart just might begin to melt.

•••

Despite the brisk winter air assaulting their senses upon exiting the warm cafe, the two of them were nothing but smiles. Well, he should say that Y/N was—the beam that lit up her face rivaled only the sun, whereas the corners of Jungkook’s lips simply turned up into a small grin.

He breathed into his hands before rubbing them together in hopes that the friction would heat them up and tried to calm the nerves dancing in his stomach. Even after spending the whole morning with her, the butterflies never stilled. It was a wonder what it felt like to have settled insides anymore.

“Jesus, why is it so freezing!” Y/N let out an adorable yelp that caused Jungkook’s smile to grow, and before he knew what she was doing–

“Are your hands cold?” She blurted the question before suddenly grabbing his hands in hers.

He stumbled to a stop, his blood running so cold that his body went numb until the sensation was burning him alive like Icy Hot in his veins. Of course he had felt her skin since their hands had last touched; he made out with her twice, for crying out loud. But that still didn’t stop the visceral, kismet energy that sparked between them like a lightning strike every time and shook both of them to the core.

Y/N looked down at their hands as if trying to make sense of the sensation, fingers barely brushing at this point, before looking back up at him. Her eyes searched his face, for what he wasn’t sure, and it was after a newfound determination settled over her features that he felt her palm against his in full force, fingers perfectly intertwined, holding his hand.

And Jungkook thought he was going to have a heart attack right there on the sidewalk.

He couldn’t believe it was happening. It was actually happening; he was actually holding her hand after all this time spent purposely trying to avoid the interaction. Though now in this moment, he suddenly couldn’t remember why he’d been trying to fight it.

It felt so good to hold her hand, so right—like their fingers and knuckles and palms were meant to cradle each other’s and no one else’s. He didn’t know that holding hands could feel like this—he’d only done so with his parents as a kid and childhood friends—but he quickly realized he was becoming addicted to the warm heart of his she was slowly starting to thaw.

Which is why after a few more moments spent in a stuttering, flustered mess, he finally pulled himself together long enough to walk hand in hand with her to the edge of the road.

“This is where my ride is picking me up,” Y/N exhaled once they slowed to a stop, though her hand never left his.

Jungkook hated the way his pulse sped up as he turned to face her with a nod. His dorm was just right across the street after all, and he had some studying of his own to catch up on. He knew he needed to get home.

So why did his feet stay planted in place, unwilling to let her go?

“Thank you for um—for breakfast.” The words stumbled from his mouth in an awkward, sheepish manner, though when he glanced up from his lowered gaze he couldn’t take his eyes off her smile.

“Thank you,” Y/N breathed, her gaze sparkling and intense and unwavering on his, “for letting me stay the night and for—for everything. I had a really good time Jungkook.”

He gulped at the unspoken tension that crackled between them; he could tell he was waiting for something that suspended in the air between them, but he couldn’t be sure of what. He’d never felt this feeling in his entire life: the feeling of desperately wanting to cling onto a moment that he knew should surely end. In any normal situation he would be spinning on his heel right now and dashing away in an effort to make a quick escape and ease his erratically pounding heart. And yet...

The sound of a booming stereo shattered the moment between them. A familiar car pulled up beside them—the same car that Y/N had used to drive them to their first date at the bowling alley, he realized—and through the open windows Jungkook could just make out the face of the first friend of hers he’d ever met.

“Hey Jungkook,” Taehyung leaned over the passenger’s seat to grin up at him in a friendly greeting, and Jungkook pressed his lips together in what he hoped looked like a makeshift smile in return. He didn’t know why there was disappointment inside his deflating gut; there was nothing left to be said between he and Y/N, right? It was time for them to part ways.

Y/N turned to look at him one last time. “I’ll see you later, okay?” She spoke almost as if she wanted to be sure of it herself as well, and thanks to a final squeeze of his hand from hers Jungkook was left a pile of putty on the ground as she got into the car and rode away.

And while he always preferred being alone, he found himself missing her presence already the second she left his side.

He walked with heavy feet back to his dormitory, desperately trying and failing to combat the giddy emotions from his mind that came along with the memories of this past night and morning. His futile efforts would’ve gone on a lot longer too had it not been for a familiar face suddenly stopping him as soon as he entered his room.

“Hey man,” Trip greeted casually, his coat and shoes still on and book bag slung over his shoulder like he’d just gotten back from class, though immediately Jungkook could sense something was off by his tone of voice.

“Hey...” Jungkook trailed off warily.

He waited a few moments before his roommate finally shook his head. “Look, I know you get pissed whenever I say something about it, but I saw you with Y/N.” He paused before letting out a sigh. “She really is bad news.”

It was the defeat, the dejection in his tone that caused Jungkook’s throat to tighten and stomach to drop in dread. Trip had just seen the two of them together on his way inside the building, and Jungkook could tell he was being genuine.

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I couldn’t tell you really like her,” his roommate continued. “She’ll just hump and dump you, dude.”

Jungkook was shaking his head before he even realized he was doing so; he so desperately wanted to believe he was wrong. “You don’t know anything about Y/N other than the rumors you’re told.” His voice was confident, spoken with conviction, though it was the sigh that fell from Trip’s lips that had Jungkook’s swirling with doubt.

“Back in August at the very beginning of the semester, I went to a party. I wanted to get to know people; classes hadn’t even started yet.”

Jungkook already didn’t like the thought of where this story was headed; he balled his hands into fists to keep his fingers from trembling as Trip continued.

“Y/N was there, and she was drunk out of her mind. Pretty sure she doesn’t even remember this, but uh, I was wasted too, and we hooked up. It was just a quickie in the bathroom; nothing special, but you know, it was her.” The expression on his face was wistful, as if he had been smitten with her that night, and Jungkook felt as if his entire world was crashing down around him.

He stumbled back a step, nauseous. Vomit threatened to crawl its way up his throat, though he somehow kept it down.

“I went to get her number afterwards and she was gone before I could even button my pants.” It was hard to mistake the sadness, the defeat in his tone. “When I saw her later on campus, she didn’t even remember me. I’d say it was just a one time thing except for the fact that she does this to guys all the time. When I started asking around about her, everyone had a similar story. Said she’d even do it sober, too. So really, don’t waste your time dude. It’s not worth it.”

Jungkook was deathly quiet. It was hard to differentiate the many emotions and tumultuous thoughts crashing down around him like an endless tsunami, so much so that he felt numb from the inside out. He simply stood in place, frozen like a statue under the assault of Trip’s confession, before spinning around on his heel and hurrying out the door.

His roommate called after him, though there was no hearing anything around him over the pounding heartbeat raging in Jungkook’s ears. He kept running, and running, and running, until he finally slowed to a stop once fresh winter air filled his lungs just outside the dormitory building.

He was going to be sick.

His palms found his knees as he bent over, ready to spew the contents of his breakfast that Y/N bought for him all over the concrete ground. His chest heaved; the nausea was there, festering in the bottom of his stomach and lodged in the back of his throat, though no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get it past the giant lump obscuring its path. Nothing would come up.

And it was then, right in the middle of this chaotic whirlwind of pain, hurt, sadness, anger, confusion, regret—just to name a few—that Jungkook felt a vibration in his pocket.

After a few more moments of heavy breathing, Jungkook’s shaking fingers fumbled to pull out his phone. And as if things couldn’t get any worse than they already were, the universe decided to mock him even further.

hey, thanks again for our date this morning! i had a lot of fun :) when do you want to get together for our next tutoring sesh?

Jungkook gulped before turning off his phone completely.

•••

It had been two weeks since you heard from Jungkook.

You wouldn’t even bat an eye at his lack of communication had this been the beginning stages of your relationship; you were very much accustomed to going out and seeking Jungkook on your own. But ever since things had started to progress for the two of you, you kept in contact through text to plan a time and date to meet up.

Only he hadn’t replied to a single one of your messages.

After not hearing back from him the first time, you sent another; maybe he was just busy catching up on his own studies, or needed some time to himself. You couldn’t fault him for that. But when that one had gone unanswered too, you started to worry. Had something happened to him?

You couldn’t find him leaving his late night art class like you usually did. He wasn’t taking his usual route to and from his classes. You even risked venturing into the library again, if only to catch a glimpse of the beautiful boy at a table in the corner or behind a computer screen, but with no such luck. All your knocks on his dorm door had gone unanswered. You even attempted to call him once or twice, but it quickly went to voicemail. You were beginning to get seriously worried that something was wrong.

Immediately your mind went to the worst. What if he had gotten hurt? What if he was stuck somewhere or dead in a ditch? And that’s what drove you to do something you hadn’t ever needed to do before: you sat outside the door of his dorm room, ass on the floor and back against the wall the entire day.

The waiting game was excruciating; you couldn’t untangle the knots from your stomach even if you tried. Your palms sweltered with a nervous heat as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, swallowing all of your pride that made you feel like a desperate fool whenever another student would walk down the hall and give you a strange look. You could endure the embarrassment, the vulnerability that putting yourself out there took as long as it meant you got to see Jungkook. You needed to know that he was okay.

There was also the self-doubt creeping at the edges of your mind, the same dejection you were all too familiar with that told you Jungkook didn’t want to see you. That he was actively avoiding you, that you had built up every little interaction between the two of you inside your mind to make it bigger than it really was, and he actually just hated you—it ate away at you from the inside out.

But then you were remembering the way he looked at you when he awoke that fateful morning, how he let you sleep in his bed and offered to pay the bill and held your hand on the way back from your second date. There was no way you could’ve been imagining the feelings the two of you shared, could you? Regardless, you weren’t going to let Jungkook go. Not after everything you’d been through.

It was after 9:00 at night before there was movement in front of his door. You’d been staring down at your phone, tapping away at a mindless game to kill time when you heard the most glorious sound you’d ever heard in your entire life.

“Y/N?”

The speed in which your head snapped up at the sound could give you whiplash, but you didn’t even care at this point. Because Jungkook was here, standing in front of you in the flesh, and your body reacted without thinking as you jumped up from your seat on the floor and threw your arms around him in a giant hug.

“Jungkook, you’re okay!” You gushed in relief, fists gripping onto the material of his coat on his back if only to keep him from disappearing on the spot and face burying into the crook of his neck. You’d only hugged him one other time outside the art building and though the occurrence seemed like ages ago, a distant memory after all the progress you’d made, you still remembered the feelings, the overwhelming emotions coursing through you from the embrace. And god, your memory hadn’t done it justice.

The same kismet passion crashed around you like a raging storm full of thunder and lightning when the two of you collided, though right there with it at the forefront of your brain was the elation, the relief and happiness and overwhelming joy that you felt seeing him again. To hold him in your arms if only to convince yourself this was real, that he was okay, was really all you needed after weeks of being left in the dark.

Though beneath your own swirling emotions clouding your senses, you could immediately tell that something was wrong. He was stiff, rigid beneath you, though instead of this feeling like the same shell-shocked surprise he usually had, you could sense he was off. He felt distant, cold, like the giant wall of ice that was beginning to melt around his heart had frozen solid again and increased in height three times over.

Though despite your intuition alerting you of these observations, you still eventually felt his arms slowly wrap around you to reciprocate the hug as if he was reluctant to do so but had finally stopped fighting himself. And the feeling of his hold that kept you lodged against his chest was the best thing you ever could’ve felt.

You gave an extra squeeze of your arms around him to let him know that you appreciated the reciprocation before pulling away to look up at him. You needed to see his face to know if he was truly okay. You needed to see his eyes.

And there staring back at you was everything you feared and more: pain, regret, hurt. Your heart broke at the sight, and a visible frown marred your features as concern filled every fiber of your being.

“What’s wrong?”

Anguish etched across his expression at your words. You grabbed his hand, letting the familiar spark of electricity that relentlessly took your breath away travel through your veins, if only to let him know that it was alright. 

“Come on, let’s get into your room.” He felt more comfortable in private places; you knew that much from experience. “We can talk there.”

Jungkook was hesitant at that, and for a moment you were worried he was going to say no. But then a soft sigh fell from his lips and he eventually nodded his head, unlocking the door with trembling hands that didn’t go unnoticed by you and allowing the two of you to enter.

You were relieved to see that his roommate wasn’t in tonight, though you couldn’t say you were too surprised; you’d been fortunate enough to not have him there for most of your recent study sessions.

You began to speak as soon as the door shut behind him. “Are you okay? Did something happen? I’ve been texting you, calling you; I get it if you need your space, but I– I was worried.”

You admitted the last part sheepishly, feeling silly for overreacting when you could clearly see now that he was in good health. But the pain on his features, the way his eyes felt miles away from you—you knew something was bothering him.

Maybe he did just need his space—he was a loner, after all—in which case you felt self-consciously overly clingy and needy for going to the measures that you did to contact him. That was so out of character for you it wasn’t even funny; you never went out of your way to contact anyone besides your friends, and definitely not more than once. But you thought things for the two of you were finally starting to change for the better... it may have been selfish, but you thought you at least deserved a simple text explaining he wanted to be left alone, no? You would have understood.

Anxiety pricked at the base of your palms when he still hadn’t answered you. “Jungkook,” you started, taking a small step closer so not to scare him off. It felt as if you’d reverted back to how things used to be in the beginning. “Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

You didn’t know if it was your constant questions, his internal thoughts, or the small waver in your tone as you pleaded with him to just talk to you, but it was then that you saw his expression soften—a slight crack in his armor to reveal the gentle boy you knew was inside—and your chest flooded with hope.

“I–“ he started before stopping again, seeming to search for the right words. “I don’t– I c-can’t see you right now.”

Dread instantly swarmed in your stomach and sent it plummeting to the floor. “Why? Did something happen? Jungkook, if you don’t want to tutor me anymore that’s okay–“

“This isn’t about the tutoring,” he instantly corrected you with slightly grit teeth and a heavy sigh, almost as if he was trying to hold back. He was always trying to hold back. You wanted everything, the good and the bad and all of the in between. You just wanted him.

“Then what is it about?” You asked in a stronger tone, desperate for him to stop making you play this guessing game that was driving you insane. “Just tell me, Jungkook!”

“I know about you and Trip!” He suddenly blurted out, his words suspended in the air for a few silent moments while your mind scrambled to make sense of them. “He told me everything. He’s my– he’s my roommate, Y/N. I have to see him every day. I have to see him and all I can think about is you with him and I–“

“Wait, Jungkook, slow down,” you held your hands up to stop his rambling, your eyes closing in confusion with a shake of your head as you gathered your thoughts. “What are you talking about?”

“You–“ Jungkook paused, staring at you for a moment with his excruciatingly beautiful eyes before his shoulders deflated with a sigh. “Trip said that the two of you hooked up. At the beginning of the semester—he told me about it after he saw us out on our... you know...” And as if the wondrous boy couldn’t be any more of an enigma to you, he actually trailed off with a shy blush, unable to even mumble the words date into existence while he was here upset with you.

It broke you to see him so hurt like this, especially when you were the cause. And yet, despite the circumstances you couldn’t help the small flutter of your heart at the fact that he cared. He cared enough to get upset with you, he cared enough to voice his feelings aloud. And if anything, that did nothing but solidify what you knew the two of you had. You hadn’t been imagining things. This was real.

And you’d be damned if you ever let something as insignificant as your drunken past stand in the way of that.

“Jungkook,” you took a step forward, arms raised as if to touch him though not actually doing so. “I promise you, I have no recollection of that whatsoever. I would never purposefully sleep with your roommate, I... I–“

How did you even begin to explain to this boy that sex meant nothing to you? That you used to fuck random people all the time and it was no big deal? Surely that wouldn’t help in this situation.

The worst part was, you couldn’t even deny his words. Because you probably did fuck Trip at some point or another. Not to your knowledge, of course, though your memory was certainly nothing to use as a reliable source. You had no way of knowing if his roommate was lying or not.

Defeat marred Jungkook’s features in front of you, and all you could do was stand there and watch. This was the first time you’ve been truly disappointed in your promiscuous lifestyle.

“I... I know you don’t remember,” Jungkook finally spoke, and you were thankful that he decided to fill the silence at all. “Trip told me that too.”

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” you frowned, eyes lowering with a heavy chest. “I’m sorry that it had to be him. But you have to believe me when I say that I feel nothing, absolutely nothing for him. I don’t– I don’t have feelings for people. Feelings are not something that I do.” You were rambling now, you knew you were, but you couldn’t stop the word vomit from tumbling past your lips until it was too late. “I’ve never felt anything for anyone until I met you!”

Jungkook froze at that. His doe eyes turned the size of saucers, and you were sure the total state of shock on his features was a reflection of the emotions now coursing through your body.

You’d never admitted out loud that you actually had feelings for Jungkook—not to him, at least. Sure you made it pretty fucking obvious, what with chasing him around campus since the second you met, but you had no clue what Jungkook was ever thinking; for all you knew he could’ve thought you’d been just trying to get in his pants this whole time.

So maybe this was a good thing. Maybe this was what Jungkook needed to hear. If you had to let down your walls down and be vulnerable for the first time in your life to fight for him, then you were going to have to break through the socially constructed cage of fear that was holding you back and do just that.

“How...” Jungkook’s voice was hoarse, strained when he finally spoke up, and he stopped to clear his throat. His knuckles that gripped the edge of his desk were white. “Why?”

His question caught you off guard. “Why do I have feelings for you?”

“N-no,” Jungkook spluttered at your forward statement, coughing slightly to cover the hitch you detected in his tone before clearing his throat once more. “I–I just...” he chewed on his bottom lip for a moment, seeming to go through world war III in his mind before: “Why don’t you do feelings?” 

It was the question that would open the can of worms you’d been trying so desperately to keep sealed shut for the past three years. From the looks of it, if his nervous fidgeting was any giveaway, Jungkook knew this was a touchy subject for you as well. And yet he still asked it anyway, which was more progress than you could say about any conversation the two of you have ever had in the past.

You took a seat on the edge of his bed, the long sigh that left your lips followed only by the sharp inhale that filled your lungs as much as they would allow. Your attempt to quell the nerves that were rocking within your stomach was futile. Any time you thought about your past you were swarmed with the same anxiety you experienced during it, which was usually why you pushed the memories to the depths of your brain and kept them buried beneath drugs and sex and alcohol.

But one look at the gentle, profound, big brown eyes staring back at you with so much understanding, so much support despite the chaotic circumstances, and you knew you could trust him.

He was the one you wanted to open yourself up to.

“My... parents,” you started, and even just mentioning them had your throat constricting. You shuddered out a shaky exhale, and it was then that you felt the mattress beside you dip under the weight of another body.

Jungkook was sitting next to you, no parts of you touching but just close enough so that you knew he was there. Whether he did it for your benefit or not, you’d never know, but his presence brought you comfort.

“We... didn’t have a good relationship,” you frowned, tone hesitant as you tried to pick and choose the right words to describe this situation for the first time in your life. “I don’t speak to them anymore.”

Jungkook remained silent at your side, though you could tell by the twitching of his lips you saw as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye that he had questions unwilling to be voiced aloud.

You heaved a heavy sigh as you worked up the courage to continue. “T-they were abusive. Not physically—well, a little physically, but uh, m-mostly mentally, emotionally.” You fought through the painful memories to find an instance that described them well. “They left me abandoned in a parking lot when I was eight. After everything went down with the cops, child protective services, you know—they’d gotten out of it with a bullshit excuse of course—they made me feel as if it was my fault. As if I was such a burden of a child, so unlovable and disastrous that they had no other choice but to leave me there.”

The words left a bitter taste in your mouth as a grimace stayed fixed on your lips, eyes glued to the bottom bookshelf that was sitting across the room but your mind far, far away from here. This was just one of the many ways your parents neglected you as a child, though this one always stood out in your mind. Because even though they were beyond shitty to you, they were all you had. This was the first time you were ever truly afraid that you had driven them away forever.

“I blamed myself for the longest time,” you continued, gulping down the pain and unable to meet Jungkook’s eye. You didn’t want to see his expression right now. “I blamed myself when I found my mom passed out on pills or my dad drunk in a ditch, as if they needed to do these things to cope with me. And when I was sixteen, they abandoned me for good—up and left one day when I was at school. I came home to find the place empty; what little we had was gone and a for sale sign was in the front yard.”

It was then that you felt a spark of electricity jolt up your arm like a lightning strike, and when you looked down you saw that Jungkook’s hand was sitting on yours.

Could he really be willingly touching you, initiating physical contact with you for the first time since you met?

Your head snapped up to look at him for the first time since you’d started speaking, and there in the very eyes staring back at you held enough warmth, enough tenderness and compassion and love to rival every single ounce of anxiety and negative emotion that your body ever held.

It felt as if a weight had been lifted from your shoulders. Finally you were voicing your troubles aloud after years of bottling them inside, and finally you had someone to share them with, someone who held your hand and let you know that they weren’t going anywhere despite the fear that accompanied this pain for your entire life—fear that you would be rejected, abandoned, fear that you could never be loved or wanted after dumping such a heavy load of emotional baggage onto someone else.

Yet here he was, sitting by your side and holding your hand all the same.

It was the reason why you had so many random hookups, why you never slept with the same person twice and would ghost each of them before they ever had a chance to try to get close to you; you were trying to temporarily fill the void of absent love from your parents without getting attached so that you wouldn’t get hurt. And though the act was unconscious—you’d never actually taken the time to understand your behavior until the truth was staring you straight in the face now that you were willingly thinking about your past—you realized it was selfish. Though you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it—not when it brought you to this breathtaking boy.

“I–I’m sorry,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice cracking at the seams through his soft and reverent tone. “Did you... did you find them?”

You shook your head, unable to tear your eyes away from his hand on yours. “I don’t even know if I would’ve wanted to, to be honest,” you admitted with a frown. “They were so fucked up, Jungkook. I think being out of that toxic household was the best thing for me.”

“But you were a child; did you stay with a relative or someone?”

“I didn’t have anyone,” you spoke with conviction, hating how weak your past made you seem. That was why you pushed it to the back of your mind; you wanted to feel strong. “And there was no way I was going to risk being put in foster care or some shit like that.”

“W-what about your grandmother?” Jungkook questioned hesitantly, seeming to be worried of coming off too pushy or prodding, though that couldn’t be further from the truth. “The one who left you the money?”

“I didn’t even know she was still alive,” you shook your head with a sigh, lifting the fingers of your other hand to play with his in your palm. Your stomach fluttered and heart sung with each grazing touch. “I hadn’t seen her since I was little. My parents didn’t seem to care about who I was running around with so long as it got me off their hands, but when it came to our other family, they kept us cut off. I’m pretty sure it’s because they’d already severed whatever ties they had with their own family as well. My parents were a mess; nobody wanted to deal with them.”

Jungkook was quiet, solemn for a moment until: “So you... lived on your own?”

You nodded, silent at first before speaking along with the gesture. “More or less, yeah. I was on the streets a lot. Got a tent so I could sleep where I wanted.”

You felt Jungkook stiffen beneath your touch, seemingly mortified at that.

A gentle chuckle fell from your lips. “I didn’t mind that part too much; I was just happy to be away from them, and honestly? I liked being able to live life by my own terms on a whim. It felt like I could be truly free of them.”

There was a thinly veiled shudder that you felt rake its way through the freshman’s body. “I can’t imagine what that would feel like. My home life was so different.”

You turned to him then, knees nearly touching but not quite as you offered up a friendly smile. “What were your parents like?”

He froze up then—body and limbs turning to stone under the weighted pressure of the question, and for a moment you were worried you’d overstepped. Just because you told him about your past didn’t mean he was in any way obligated to tell you about his.

“S-sorry, I shouldn’t’ve–“

“N-no, it’s okay,” he was quick to reassure you with a wavering tone, though rather than uncertainty it seemed as if nerves were the cause. “If your parents were one extreme, then mine were on the complete opposite side of the spectrum,” he spoke after a deep breath and a nibble on his lower lip. “They were strict and put a lot of pressure on me from the time I was little—pressure to do well in school, pressure to make the family proud. They wouldn’t let me do anything if they thought it would distract me from my studies.“

You nodded thoughtfully. “I can see that—just from what you’ve mentioned briefly about your major and everything,” you quickly added. The last thing you wanted was for him to think you were assuming anything about his past—not when he was finally choosing to break down his walls bit by bit and slowly let you in. It was as if you could see the ice around his heart start to melt to the ground, like ice cream in the middle of the summer, and he was terrified. It was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen. Honored didn’t even begin to describe how you felt.

He chewed on his bottom lip before deciding to speak again. “I have an older brother; Junghyun is his name. He’s in the army right now, but when we were younger he was the apple of my parents’ eye. He could do no wrong—perfect student, star athlete, everyone loved him.” He sat in silence for a moment, as if he was reliving the memories and pondering his thoughts. “Growing up, it felt like I was living in his shadow. Nothing I did was ever good enough—never as good as him, at least. I always had something to prove, and it always seemed like I was failing in their eyes.”

The frown adorning your features grew at this. It was no wonder Jungkook seemed so shy and always questioned himself, continuously asking why me? when you used to hint at your feelings towards him. His parents made him feel insecure, gave him an inferiority complex like he was never good enough in the face of others.

It broke your heart to know that this was how he saw himself when to you he was the most magnificent human being you’d ever met.

“Jungkook,” you grasped his hand a little tighter, gave it a squeeze that matched the squeeze of your heart at the action. “You have to know that’s not true.”

“I...” Jungkook trailed off, the words seeming to get caught in his throat as he gazed at you. Neither of you seemed to mind the stretch of silence that ensued as you stared into each other’s eyes. There were many unspoken words, so many emotions charged within the space between you that it was hard to breathe.

“They did it out of love,” he finally ripped his eyes away and lowered them to the floor, his words a mumble as if trying to convince himself of this as well. “I know this, of course; they’re hard on me because they just want what’s best for me and my future. But... it still affected me.” He glanced at you then, his cheeks suddenly turning a dusty rose. “Living such a sheltered life is part of the reason why I’d never... been with anyone before. Not even my... f-first kiss.”

You stared at him, floored. “Never?”

He just shook his head sheepishly, the spitting image of embarrassment as his face was now beet red.

You tried to keep your expression neutral so not to offend him; the last thing you wanted was to make him feel ashamed for his lack of experience. Yet you still couldn’t help but slightly widen your eyes. “Really? I mean– I wondered if that might be the case but I never would’ve thought I’d be right–“

His face blanched at your words, and you immediately regretted saying them. “That bad?” He eventually asked with a wince.

“No, god no are you kidding?” You chuckled in disbelief at the thought that he would ever doubt what was the best kiss of your life, though you forwent elaborating the meaning of your words in favor of continuing. “I’m just surprised, is all. You must’ve had girls lining up at your doorstep.”

Jungkook scrunched his nose, confusion etched onto his features. “Why would you think that?”

You gave him a look as if to say, really? And before you could control yourself your mouth kinda just—

“You’re beautiful.”

Jungkook looked as if he’d seen a ghost.

You wanted to take it back. The expression on his face made you feel as if you’d made a mistake, though as much as that tortured you, you knew you couldn’t. Because you meant it, had been thinking it since the very first moment you laid eyes on him, and god damn it, he deserved to hear it every second of every day.

“I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

You didn’t mean to make him uncomfortable. But the words got caught in your throat and strangled you speechless, because it was at that moment that a bright pink sprouted on the apples of Jungkook’s previously blanched cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears to match the shy smile that was spreading across his face, growing more and more until you saw the hint of teeth peaking behind his lips and his effort to hide the expression became futile.

Any time you were graced with his smile was a time you would not take for granted; the sight of it still stunned you to silence as you marveled at his beauty.

“I... I–I tend to keep to myself a lot,” Jungkook’s words started stumbling from his mouth before you had a chance to process everything that was happening, almost as if he was explaining himself, so you just sat there dazed in a trance while you watched. “I was the same way in high school. There wasn’t anyone I felt strongly enough to want to be with before–“

He stopped just as your heart rate spiked. You sat on the edge of your seat with bated breath, but Jungkook simply averted his gaze and nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Before what?” You tried to keep the desperation from your voice as you gently urged him to continue.

A gulp raked down Jungkook’s throat before he inhaled sharply and suddenly looked at you, the intense eye contact reminding you of the staring contest weeks ago and striking you to your core.

“Before you,” he finally finished.

And it was the last thing you heard before your lips were on his.

•••

Jungkook had never been so happy in his entire life.

His heart just felt so... full. He’d avoided Y/N after what Trip had told him because it hurt, hurt too much to imagine her with someone else but especially with the one person who was unavoidable, the one person he saw everyday and had no chance avoiding like he did the rest of the people on campus. At least with all of her other rumored fucks, he’d been able to distance himself. But with Trip, it made everything so... real. Jungkook now knew someone personally affected by Y/N’s actions; for some reason, that made things so much worse.

He knew he should’ve given her the benefit of the doubt. Jungkook used to jump to conclusions and make snap judgments about someone based on what others would say, but he’d gotten better about that with Y/N. It’s just that everything Trip said had brought back every insecurity and fear he’s ever had about Y/N—that he would let himself fall for her and ultimately end up just another name on the long list of men who had wished for something more. Every guy she’s been with had been smitten; what made him so different that she pursued him? Maybe she just liked the chase. He was just foolish if he believed that a few tutoring sessions made him more special than the men she partied with on a daily basis.

And so that’s why his defense mechanism had instinctively kicked in—to protect himself from getting hurt. But he knew it was too late. He cared too much at this point. The pain of ignoring her was almost as bad as the pain of Trip’s words, and that’s why he was like putty in her hands the second he saw her waiting on his doorstep. He knew he wouldn’t be able to resist her. But the thought of her with his roommate, with the only person he was physically forced to see until the end of the year, still hurt more than he was willing to admit. He just didn’t know what to do, so he did what he knew best; he fled.

But then Y/N confessed to having feelings for him—actual feelings that didn’t involve himself just being a quick fuck, he desperately hoped—and his entire world flipped upside down. Certainly he had heard her wrong, right? It couldn’t have been that he was wrong about her motives from the very start? Or was he right about her initial motives, and her feelings for him simply changed as time went on? Or was she just lying to placate his pain in order to get in the position they were in now, with her hand in his hair and his lips on hers? 

But then she did the unimaginable to take him by surprise yet again: she opened up to him about her past. And if there was one thing he knew about Y/N, it was that she didn’t do that. He could tell that not even her closest friends had been let in by her, and so when she started telling him about her parents and the awful childhood she’d had, Jungkook knew she was telling the truth about everything.

And suddenly it all made sense. All the rumors he’s ever heard, drugs and alcohol and stories of Y/N jumping from guy to guy without so much as a second glance—her past explained all of it.

He recognized the behavior signs as soon as she opened up and let him in; she was pushing people away, same as he was, only she was going about it in a much different way, because she lacked the familial love that Jungkook had growing up from his parents and brother no matter how hard they were on him. Jungkook couldn’t believe what his ears were hearing when Y/N told him of her past; no child should ever have to deal with that much abuse or emotional trauma, much less from their parents, the two people who were supposed to teach and give a child endless amounts of love and support. Y/N missed out on both in her childhood. Which explained why she would spend nights with random men, to temporarily fill the void without getting attached so she wouldn’t get hurt. It explained why she didn’t want to get close to people.

What it didn’t explain was why she was here with him.

If she didn’t do feelings, as she so hastily told him amidst her passion-fueled confession, then why did she have feelings for him? What was so special about him that set him apart from the other men who vied for her attention?

He couldn’t begin to unravel the complexity and intricacies that were her mind, but even if he could, he didn’t know if it would even matter. Because against all odds, it was he who she was consistently pursuing, he who she had feelings for. And though he didn’t understand it, he was too far gone, too selfish to want to question it at the moment. Especially since Jungkook had admitted aloud the one thing he was most terrified and insecure about when it came to being with Y/N: he had no experience. While this girl had been with more people than he even knew, he had been with no people whatsoever. He admitted this to her, and yet she didn’t care; she wanted to be with him anyway. 

And so that was what fueled him forward, caused him to abandon all reservation and lean into the kiss and do what he truly wanted, what just felt right when it came to being with Y/N.

He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and led with his heart.

•••

Somehow every second that you spent with Jungkook just got better and better.

Every kiss took your breath away, seemed infinitely better than the last; turns out your memory was worse than you thought, because when you thought your memory had done the sensation of his lips pressed against yours justice, you learned every time that it most certainly did not.

You could feel the tension and restraint that normally held Jungkook back physically melt until he was nothing but a puddle beneath your touch, the passion and love that was radiating from your being met with the mirroring emotions of his own until they fizzled and cracked between the two of you like a blazing fire and erupted your souls in an inferno that seemed to meld the two of you together as one.

There was something so much deeper happening beneath the surface while the two of you kissed; it was kismet, intangible, unstoppable. Which was why when you tugged on his hair as you had the very first time the two of you had ever made out and heard the very same moan that haunted your dreams ever since, there was no stopping you this time—no roommate to barge in, no signs of Jungkook making a run for the door. And it was when you felt the searing touch of Jungkook’s hand against your cheek, so gentle and soft and spreading like wildfire, you brought your leg over his as you had attempted to do previously in his desk chair and finally succeeded this time in settling atop his open lap.

The effect was instantaneous. Jungkook became a brick wall beneath you, having never been physically close to anyone in his life, though the audible moan that fell from your lips and onto his at the feeling of his body pressed against yours in ways that not even a hug could fulfill caused him to throw all caution to the wind.

He was putty, susceptible to all of your movements as you dug your fingers deeper into his scalp, his hands giving away just how flustered and overwhelmed he must’ve felt in this moment before they flew to settle on the fabric covering your hips.

It took everything in you not to devour him right then and there, but you somehow managed to break the kiss. Heavy breaths filled the confined space between you as both of your chests rose and fell with panting, physically and emotionally and mentally teetering on the edge. Though in reality, the two of you hadn’t gone far at all. Not by your usual standards, at least. But somehow, it felt like you’d gone farther than ever before.

“Is this okay?” Your voice was faint, a breathless murmur against his lips as you rested your forehead on his and gazed deeply into the eyes that seemed to consume your heart and soul in one glance.

He looked up at you as well, expression bewildered yet somehow blown out with lust in a way that shot straight to your core. For a moment you worried that this was too much for him. Hell, this was almost too much for you, and you’d straddled countless laps in your lifetime. The connection between the two of you was so strong that it was overwhelming, almost too overwhelming—which was why you were in need of proper breaks before your head exploded—and you were afraid that it would scare him off.

Though your heart leapt to heights unknown when he gently nodded his head. There was a soft smile that crept onto the corners of his lips, one that made your expression burst into elation, and he was eventually opening his mouth.

“Y-yes.”

His voice was hoarse when he spoke, and you moved your hands from his hair down the length of his neck until you were cradling his cheek, your thumb swiping over the supple skin of his breathtaking face. You could tell that he was getting in his own head the longer you remained apart, had learned enough about reading his facial expressions and body language by now to know that him biting his lower lip was never a good sign, which was why as soon as his consent was granted you leaned down to place a soft, reassuring kiss on the tip of his nose before giving into your desires and replacing his teeth with your own on his plump bottom lip like you’ve always wanted to.

Jungkook hissed with an inhale of surprise, his hands tightening and fingers digging into your waist, and your hips involuntarily rocked against his in reaction to the sensation as your tongue slipped past his parted lips and tasted the caverns of his mouth.

And god, you could get drunk off his taste.

He was sweeter, so much sweeter than you ever thought possible, and the sensation of his tongue pressed against your own was so addictive that you knew you would never need another illegal substance to get high again. Because this, this was much more dangerous than any drug you’ve ever had in your system.

His breath was already heavier than before in your mouth, if that was even possible, and the intoxicating heat caused your head to spin with a level of arousal you didn’t even know existed. His arousal was evident in his pants as well—you knew far too much about the male anatomy to ever misconstrue what that felt like—and the knowledge that you had actually given Jungkook an erection paired with the onslaught of bliss that was currently inflicted on your body was almost too much for your poor heart to handle. You couldn’t imagine what Jungkook must be feeling given that everything, not just the emotional nirvana that you were experiencing, was new to him. And despite the desire that you were feeling, the urge to take care of him and make him feel safe through all of this was much, much stronger.

You halted your movements before you got carried away in favor of gazing down at his big brown eyes that always made your heart clench. The way your breath mingled together was ecstasy.

“Let me know if you want to stop,” you spoke to him with as soothing of a tone as you could manage given the fact that your pussy was throbbing. You wanted him to trust you.

Despite the broken kiss, the heavy rise and falls of your chests prohibited the rest of your body from staying still, and so your hips ever-so-slightly rolled against his like a docked ship would float at port. It was more of an after-effect, really, though it was enough to leave your thoughts a jumbled mess. So many emotions clouded your senses and kept you from thinking straight, and so when he nodded again and showed no signs of stopping you, you led with your heart instead of your head and leaned forward until his back was propped against the headboard of his bed.

Your lips crashed together in the throes of unabashed passion, every feeling you’ve ever felt for one another cultivating to this catalyst of a moment in which there was no stopping, no coming back from. You didn’t know where your body stopped and his begun, but it didn’t matter either way because in this moment the only thing that you knew was Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. His chest against yours, his hands on your hips, his dick pressing to your core—the sensation was stronger and more vivid through your layers of clothes than anything you’ve ever felt bare. And unless you heard his words of objection that would tumble your movements to a halt, there was no stopping the acts of lust and love that coursed through your veins with the fury of a thousand storms. This was what it felt like to be truly alive.

Jungkook was a mess of pleasured whimpers beneath you; you could tell he was trying to contain them against your mouth, though you weren’t sure why. These were the most beautiful, euphonious sounds you’d ever heard, even while muffled, and you just couldn’t help yourself from trailing a path of searing kisses down the heavenly muscle found on the side of his neck—a perfect column to drag your lips across, you soon found, and it also meant freeing his glorious sounds.

It was pure music to your soul. With each rock of your hips another breathless moan left the back of his throat, each one curling around the shell of your ear and making a home in the depths of your core that only fueled your movements forward, too far gone and wrapped up in the moment to ever dream of stopping. And when you felt his hips slowly start to buck up into yours as well to match the pace of your thrusts, you surely thought you’d died and gone to heaven.

“Jungkook,” you murmured in a blissful daze, already missing the taste of his lips after having been away from them for what felt far too long. Your tone was desperate, needy, though you couldn’t find it in yourself to care what with the way his grip tightened on your hips when your lips found his again.

He groaned against them, the sound muffled to your ears though your tongue swallowed it whole and you cradled his face with more tenderness and affection than you ever knew you were capable of mustering in such a heated and lustful moment. God, you never knew it was possible to feel this... good.

The feeling of his hardened length digging into your center as you pressed as close as humanly possible and rocked your hips caused your brain to short circuit, though you were way past the point of computing the sheer impossibility of everything that was happening. You’re pretty sure you were dreaming and having an out of body experience right now. Was this really Jungkook, the boy who could barely even speak when you first met and wouldn’t look you in the eyes? And if so, how did you get so fucking lucky as to be so intimately close to him this way?

You didn’t know, and frankly you didn’t possess the mental capacity to focus on it while Jungkook’s hips continued rutting in time with yours and creating an atomic bomb of ecstasy every time your centers met. You lost all sense of sanity when his head leaned back against the headboard with furrowed brows of pleasure and an open-mouthed moan. The sight was singlehandedly the hottest thing you’d ever seen.

“Oh god...” Jungkook huffed out between panting breaths, and you were torn between wanting to study his expression and burn it into memory with a branding iron or cover every inch of exposed skin with your lips. His eyes opened to look up at you beneath hooded lids, and when another breathy whimper fell from his lips you couldn’t help but dive back in to taste it.

“Wait, ah, Y/N–“ his lips parted only for endless moans and incoherent sounds that sounded a lot like your name to flood the the caverns of your mouth like a waterfall of euphoria, gushing and gushing until it was overflowing and spilling over the top–

Your ears were ringing with sounds more divine than a choir of angels, but it was only when you felt the new sensation of something wet and warm against your center that you paused long enough to look down between you. Your forehead rested against his, panting chests brushing one another with every harsh inhale as you took in the sight something dark spreading over the crotch of his pants.

Your breath hitched in your throat before you could stop it. Was that what you thought it was?

You glanced back up to see Jungkook’s eyes fluttering beneath closed lids, the life seeming to slowly seep back into him with every passing second. There was sweat covering the edge of his hairline and dampening the roots of his hair, and god, he looked so breathtakingly beautiful that it hurt.

You were wrong before, when you said that that was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Because this—Jungkook beneath you with a dazed expression of sexual bliss after having just came in his pants because of you—this was by far the hottest thing of your entire life.

You smiled then; god he just looked so... so serene. You loved the thought that he felt so good, and you loved that you got to be the one to make him feel that way. Which was why you couldn’t help yourself when you leaned down to pepper gentle, soothing kisses to every inch of his adorable face. You’d wanted to be this close to him for so long, and it was finally happening. Happy didn’t even begin to describe how you felt; you were higher than cloud nine.

When Jungkook finally came to, you felt his expression physically shift beneath your lips—first came shock, then mortification, then regret.

“O-oh my god, I’m—I’m so sorry–“

And it was before you could even open your mouth to reassure him everything was alright that he scrambled out from under you and bolted off the bed.

“No, it’s oka–“

“You should go.” He quickly turned his back to you and made his way to his dresser, sifting frantically through the clothes. Whether he was actually looking for a particular article of clothing or just wanted to keep busy and avoid you, you’ll never know.

“Jungkook–“

“Please.”

He turned to look at you then, and the furrowed brows and frown of sheer desperation on his features was so strong that it looked as he was about to cry. And though it absolutely broke your heart to see him this distraught, you knew he needed you to listen to him. He needed you to leave.

Your attempt to swallow the lump in your throat was futile as you nodded your head and got to your feet. You would do as he asked, of course you would—but there was no way in hell you were leaving him to beat himself up over this.

He kept his back to you, face and neck and ears the color of tomatoes, though you approached him anyways and slowly put a hand to his shoulder.

“Please don’t worry, Jungkook... I promise it’s okay.” You curled your arms around him then, slowly and carefully so not to scare him off when you felt him stiffen beneath your touch. “That—that was the best experience of my life.”

And though you were beyond sheepish to admit such deep feelings aloud, you would do it tens times over if it meant giving Jungkook the confidence he needed. The look of pure bewilderment on his expression as he whipped his head around to look at you was well worth it. He thought you were crazy, you knew he did. But that didn’t make your words any less true.

When it was evident he wasn’t going to reply you smiled softly, reassuringly, before sliding your hand from his shoulder to his face to cradle his cheek in your palm. The spark of electricity was still there at the lightest of touches despite how close you’d just been, though this time you tried to ignore it in favor of leaning in and pressing your lips to his one last time.

His jaw was still slack from your previous words and his lips remained unmoving beneath the feathery kiss, too stunned from your touch to do anything, but you didn’t mind. Whatever he was battling with internally, you would let him deal with it however he saw fit, so long as he didn’t question where you stood. So what if he finished prematurely in his pants from solely dry humping? It didn’t matter because it was him—hotter even so because of it. And you would use your last dying breath making him understand that if that’s what it took.

He didn’t move from his position as you backed away and gave him a reluctant parting wave on your way out the door. As much as you didn’t want to leave him like this, you knew it’s what he wanted, so you were going to respect that.

After all, it wouldn’t be for long. There’s no way he was getting rid of you that easily.

#jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfiction #bts fanfic

[srose-foxfire]

“Under an Autumn Moonlight” Part: 3 (Damirae fic)

Part #1

Part #2

Part #3 

Raven let out a deep sigh as she exited her history lecture hall. Her mind should had been in class, but her mind she kept going back to the very uncomfortable lecture they received from their landlord outside their apartment building. Raven and Donna had returned to find their apartment building evacuated because their friend and roommate, Jinx, had started a small fire in their kitchen. Their landlord was furious with them all, this wasn’t the first time Jinx had endangered lives before. It was her third, and their landlord was running out of patience to let them continue renting the three-bedroom apartment. The only thing saving them from being evicted was that they were college students trying to get by and focusing on their degrees. Though Raven was certain with another ‘Jinx incident’ they be kicked out to the streets, for sure.

Their friend seemed to be a magnet that attracted misfortune wherever there was any electronic device. Nevertheless, they all cared for Jinx very much. Raven wouldn’t be true to herself if she didn’t feel a bit least upset for leaving Robin. She was starting to feel at ease with him and wanted to continue talking with him. It also seemed he wanted to talk about something more personal before she got the phone call from Jinx.

“I hope to see you again.”

Was the last thing Robin had said to her and in truth Raven wanted to see him too. She didn’t know how to though, it would look strange if she just showed up at the warehouse, besides she didn’t know when the band was there. Maybe if she could contact him directly? Robin was friends with Jon, maybe Raven could ask Jon for Robin’s number, but knowing Jon he would question her and then go gossip to Donna who would interrogate Raven on the matter. Raven didn’t even know what all this was, the only thing she was certain was she wanted to see him again and just talk.Right? That’s all she wanted nothing more.

Raven continue walking down the main walkway of the university going to her next class. Introduction to Astronomy. One of the class assignments she was looking forward to was going to an overnight camping trip to stargaze and map out constellations. Their professor also added that they could distinguish the planet Saturn from the stars because it was closer to Earth during the fall semester.

Raven could hardly wait and just stargaze to ger heart’s content. Since a child, Raven always liked looking up into the starry night sky and letting her worries be swept from her.

Raven didn’t have the best childhood; she lost her mother at very young age where her memories were blur glimpses. What always made her think of her mother was the smell of lavender. Somewhere in the back of her mind she could had sworn seeing her mother standing next to her crib and light a lavender scented candle, singing her a gentle lullaby. When her mother passed, she was left with a drunken father who wasn’t home at all doing who knows what. She was confided in that small apartment for eighteen years, the only times she was allowed outside was to go to school. During the day she was the good student, getting the highest remarks in every class, but when night came, she let herself cry out. One night she looked up to a full moon and imagined it was her mother’s way of lighting her dark world. Since then Raven found solace in the night sky.

When Raven graduated from high school, she left that small apartment and moved away with her only friend Donna Troy to Gotham City, for a new start. There they met Jinx, this made Raven feel she had someplace she could really call home and have a family. She entered the new school year without declaring a major, but knew she wanted to be surrounded by books. During her second year in the university, Raven was passing by a small vintage store and through the window saw a mother and her very young daughter look through a worn-out book. In that moment Raven imagined herself in the girl’s place and transformed the woman to what vague memory Raven had of Arella, her mother. That’s when Raven decided she would open her own bookstore, in memory of her mother, and help others find sanctuary.

Raven finally arrived at her astronomy classroom. She sat down in her usual lab table and took out her notebook and textbook. There were ten tables in total, separated in pairs to force students to work together. Though the seat next to Raven’s was always empty, which was weird there were exactly twenty seats and twenty students were enrolled. One student was never called for, yet the seat was taken since no one had dropped out. To act like she could rely one someone, Raven always placed her backpack on the empty seat, the bag was a trusted ally who always carried her things. The classroom was starting to fill as each student too their seat before the professor arrived.

Raven was looking over her notes from last class when she noticed someone out of the corner of her eye standing next to her table.

“Is this seat taken?”

Raven looked up and her gaze widen in shock. Standing before her dressed in designer clothes was none other than Damian Wayne. Like theson to Bruce Wayne and heir to run Wayne Enterprises. What was he doing here?

Raven managed to squeak out a no, and quickly as she could remove her backpack from the chair. Damian sat down, and took out a notebook, flipped through it till he found a clean page. He scribbled something on a corner and then very gracefully pulled out his textbook. This made no sense, Raven thought. Was he the one student that was enrolled and never show up? And why show up now of all times. They were halfway through the semester and come to think he wasn’t around for the midterm they had taken a few weeks ago.

She could feel the atmosphere change in the classroom as everyone stared at the young man next to her. Damian Wayne was someone who didn’t allow anyone get near him other than his family, in interviews and documentaries on his family’s company he was always seen to be at a distance from everyone. Raven wasn’t much for gossip, but all these were just rumors and online news articles she had heard from.

From the corner of her eye she saw Damian read over some notes, he looked so calm. Like he had no care in the world. Which was surprising given to the fact she caught some of her classmates taking pictures of him. Probably posting on their social media pages that the infamous Damian Wayne had graced their presence. Raven would lie to herself if she didn’t admit he was handsome. His olive skin looked almost that of a god of sun, his emerald eyes containing vivid green forests in them. Raven wasn’t staring she had seen countless pictures of him to study his features. The room went silent when Professor Charles, entered the classroom.

Professor Charles was in his late sixties, with a small rounded belly and fine gray hairs still trying to cover his baldness. He went straight to his desk, plugged in his flash drive into the classroom’s computer and turn on the projector. Someone who sat behind Raven, cleared their throat rather loudly making Professor Charles look up from the computer screen. He was about to address the student when his eyes caught something unusual. He removes his small round glasses, gave them a quick wipe, and placed them back on the brim of his nose.

“Ah. Mr. Wayne. Glad you could finally join us. I assume you will be with us till the remainder of the semester?”

“Yes. Professor.”

Raven tried so hard to pay attention she hadn’t been focused in her previous class but now this was ridiculous. Her mind kept screaming:

Ahh it THE Damian Wayne! Is he going to be OUR lab partner?

When did she revert back to a lovestruck teenager? He was just another classmate nothing more. Raven continue to try and focus on the lecture and take notes as the studious student she was. Her mind wondered again but thankfully this time it made her start doodling on the corner of notebook page. She was going to pay for it later, but Raven manage to write down some words she heard her professor say. Raven will have to go over one of her classmates notes after deciphering whatever her brain allowed her to retain. She allowed her hand to move to whatever direction it wanted, she wasn’t paying it no mind.  

Raven stopped when she heard countless chairs screech, she looked up to find her classmates collecting their belongings and heading out the door. Raven shot a quick glance towards Professor Charles and he was erasing something he wrote on the white board. Panicked kicked in and Raven quickly wrote whatever was left of the assignment. Maybe she could ask someone for clarity on the homework through the class’ online portal? Feeling very disgruntle with herself, Raven started slamming her things into her backpack.

“A robin.”

Raven looked up to find Damian standing from his seat staring at her notebook. She then looked down and saw she had doodled a bird, though she wasn’t sure with herself if it was a robin. “I guess.”

“Your favorite bird?” he continued.

Damian was trying to make small talk. Why with her? “Not really, but birds are cool.” Brain stop talking. Raven was making a fool of herself; she flipped her notebook closed and slammed it into her backpack. Out the corner of her eye, Raven could still notice Damian just standing there. Was he waiting for a longer explanation? “I was thinking of some… thing that happened over this weekend. Made me draw a bird.” Truth was she had met someone but he didn’t need to know that little detail.

“Sounds interesting. I’m Damian Wayne by the way.” I know. “I have been away due to personal matters and would like to ask if you could assist me? I fear I may be a little behind and could use a study partner for this class.”

“Well according to the seating arrangement, we’re supposed to be lab partners for the whole semester. I’m Raven.” She extended her hand out and Damian shook her hand.  

Damian smiled at her, “pleasure to meet you.”  

Raven could had sworn she seen that smile once before, but couldn’t place it in her mind where she had seen it.

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A/N: I hope you all enjoyed this update, I wanted so much to happen but had to pace myself for the sake of this story. I am not sure when I will update this one next, trying to figure out a route that I like best. HOWEVER be on the look out this Friday for the first two chapters on my Dark Robin Au! I am excited to share with you all this fic, also because I want to multitask I will be sharing a chapter  for another longer Damirae fic sometime this weekend. 

Till next time!

~ S.Rose

#damirae #damiraefic #damiraeau #under an autumn moonlight #Damian Wayne #damian x raven #robin and raven #raven roth #dc robin