#does it say something about me that my little au side blog has gotten a pinned post earlier than my main one? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gukyi · 4 years ago

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the love project | jjk

summary: from running to mcdonald’s at 3am after a halloween party where the two of you dressed up as the teletubbies to timing how long it takes for him to drink a cup of monster mixed with mountain dew and iced coffee and then do fifty push-ups, you’re used to your best friend jungkook asking you to do all sorts of crazy things. but, of all the shit the two of you do, letting him follow you around for a week with a camera and take candid photos of you for a photography assignment might just be the craziest of them all.

{college!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: jeon jungkook x female reader genre: fluff, comedy word count: 12k warnings: college antics, hopeless pining, slow burn a/n: me: this fic will be 10k max! also me: actually nevermind on par for the course of this blog, i hope you enjoy this fic! it was so much fun to write and it definitely got me back into the ~writing mood~. more fics coming soon!

These days, the weeks pass you by like trains on a platform. They whiz past you, the only discernible features being the beginning and the end of them, with the middle nothing but a blur.

At least, that’s how it feels when you’re in college, and the days bleed into weeks bleed into months, and suddenly you’re one year closer to graduating, one year closer to figuring out what next to do with your life, even if you’re still missing that one general education requirement you forgot to take in your first year so now you’re trying to cram it into your schedule at the last minute.

Okay, you’ll admit it. Introduction to Astronomy is kicking your ass. That’s what you get for putting it off until junior year, when you’re supposed to have reached the point in your History major career where you don’t have to look at numbers anymore and the idea of doing basic math is absolutely unfathomable. History majors don’t do math. They just don’t. It vanished from your academic arsenal long before now, alongside your ability to interpret word problems and understand science textbooks.

Perhaps in another universe, you would have actually retained those skills past high school, but that universe is not this one, and so your problem sets can solve themselves or not be solved at all.

Your best friend would have to disagree.

“It’s not even calculus!” Jungkook exclaims over a mouthful of a Starbucks tomato and pesto panini, pointing to your laptop in exasperation, as if the answer has been staring you in the face for the past fifteen minutes. “It’s just algebra! All you’re doing is plugging the numbers into the formula and finding the missing variable!”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff, furiously erasing at the notebook in front of you as you get yet another incorrect answer. Who knew math could be so difficult? Oh, that’s right. You did. “You took that advanced differential equations class for fun last year. It’s not even required for your major. You’re just a masochist.”

“Says the person who convinced their advisor to let them take seven classes because they, and I quote, ‘all seemed so interesting’ and you ‘didn’t want to miss out.’” Jungkook rebukes pointedly. “Because your life would be so terrible if you didn’t take Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe.”

He’s got you there. Seven classes is a lot. In your defense, Economic History of Pre-Industrialized Europe was very interesting and you got a 4.0 that semester. So who is he to judge? Jungkook’s favorite pastime is pretending that taking three different computer science classes in a single semester isn’t going to single-handedly kill him.

Jungkook watches you struggle for a few moments more before he sighs, like he can’t take looking at someone so mathematically incompetent any longer. He stuffs the remaining third of his Starbucks panini into his mouth all at once like the ravenous beast he is before he reaches over the tiny table you’re sat at to look at your problem set himself. He turns your laptop towards him and grabs hold of your notebook, furrowing his eyebrows as he enters Work Jungkook Mode.

Work Jungkook Mode is the mode of him you see most often during finals week or the rare occasions where you meet up to actually try and get work done. Work Jungkook has tunnel vision for whatever assignment is currently in front of him, which he will do either in one sitting or die trying. Work Jungkook lets his coffee get cold and forgets to answer your text messages, even when you’re sat right across from him and you know that he can see the notification on his laptop. Work Jungkook refuses to turn in anything that he hasn’t devoted his entire being to, even if it’s something as simple as a discussion board post. Some of his other friends say that when Jungkook is in Work Jungkook Mode, they won’t even try to contact him, lest their messages get lost in the flurry of his coding assignments.

But you are not “some of his other friends.” You are his best friend. So rules do not apply to you. And Jungkook has long accepted that fact.

“Hey, don’t mess up my work—” You exclaim defensively, grabby hands reaching over the table to retrieve your notebook. “Wait, how did you do that?”

Jungkook scribbles something down in nearly-illegible font, determined to solve the problem in front of him. He thinks for a few more seconds before eventually jotting down an answer, circling it with his pencil. Holding the notebook out so both of you can see, he scoots his chair over to your side of the table, your shoulders pressed together in this tiny corner of the Starbucks, right by the bathroom, and explains, step by step, what he did.

He does that for the following two problems in your set, walking you through the kind of math he was doing in freshman year of high school like it’s nothing, answering all of your stupid questions and giving you tips on how to finesse the system by taking as many shortcuts as possible. Teaching you things you never learned, or possibly had just forgotten. Things that a professor would think is idiotic to re-teach to a junior in university. Things that Jungkook wants you to know because he just wants you to have a little more faith in yourself.

“Does that help?” He asks when he’s finished, still doubting his fantastic teaching abilities despite the fact that he just taught you more in the last thirty minutes than your professor has managed in a month and a half.

“It actually does,” you tell him, pleasantly surprised. Looking back down at your notebook, what was once a shapeless blur of numbers, letters, and formulas is suddenly a clear and organized outline of each and every step to follow. “I didn’t know it was that easy.”

“Anything can be easy if you just commit yourself to learning how to do it,” Jungkook says, one of those random sentences that are too wise for a college student surviving off of RedBull and Starbucks food, the ones that always make you think Jungkook is secretly an immortal sage with life experiences far beyond your own. “Except coding. Which is hard no matter how good you are at it.”

“Aw, you can do it,” you rally, reaching up to pinch his chin in between your fingers and squeeze it tight. “It’s also too late to change your major now, so you’re stuck.”

“Wow, thanks for the encouragement,” Jungkook chides, hand coming up to rub at where you held his jaw, rolling his eyes. “You should let me help you with your Astronomy work more often. Gives me a break from Python.”

“I would have made you help me whether you liked it or not,” you tell him pointedly, because he is your best friend and he doesn’t get out of things as easily as he thinks he can. “But thanks. I’ll definitely take you up on that.”

“Of course,” Jungkook says with a good-natured grin, always so selfless and kind and giving. He practically signed himself up for a semester’s worth of TA-ing for Introduction to Astronomy despite the constant mountain of work he has himself. Just because it’s you.

“My very own personal genius,” you muse, wrapping your hands around his arm and snuggling into his body, a whisper of a language only the two of you share. It’s something the two of you have long gotten used to, pressing your fingers all over each other’s bodies like it’s second nature. One of the things that makes you feel so certain about having Jungkook in your life. About wanting him to stay with you for the rest of time. “I’m never letting you go.”

Jungkook smiles, a warm hand coming to rest atop of your own. He breathes, in and out, chest rising beneath your touch. “Like I’d ever let you,” he says.

There is no question about it. Jungkook is one hundred percent, absolutely, undoubtedly, positively, indisputably smarter than you are. It’s something that the two of you used to jokingly fight about (because Jungkook claims that he’s a bad essay writer, even though he’s not), but at this point it’s cemented in stone—he’s a damn genius. A genius who is inexplicably good at everything. A double threat. Triple, if you count the fact that he’s built beyond belief and could probably chuck you into next week if you really, really ticked him off.

The truth is that, ninety percent of the time it is you who is going to Jungkook for help. Whether it be an assignment you need assistance on (namely Astronomy, because Jungkook probably couldn’t help you on your Mesopotamian artifact and primary source analyses despite his best intentions), a date that was a lot worse than you were hoping it would be, or even just the right coffee to order from that expensive place on the corner. Jungkook knows how to fix everything.

So when Jungkook slides into the seat across from you in the food court after his Mastering Photography class with that I’m in trouble look on his face, you know something is horribly wrong.

“Are you alright?” You ask, concerned as you watch him devour the sushi takeout in front of him, stuffing the spicy tuna rolls into his mouth like they’re Skittles. His camera hangs haphazardly out of his open backpack, like he barely had enough time to stuff it into the pocket while he was making his way here. There’s a worried expression written all over his face as he fumbles with the chopsticks in his hand, losing his grip on them every ten seconds.

It��s not until Jungkook has finished the container of spicy tuna rolls in front of them that he finally seems to work up the courage to answer you.

“My Photography class is gonna be the death of me,” Jungkook exclaims, exasperated.

“I thought you liked it,” you comment unhelpfully. Jungkook had been so excited to be enrolled in it, because you needed a recommendation from a different professor and you had to submit a portfolio in order to join the class, making it one of those exclusive (and thus, much better) courses. Not to mention the fact that Jungkook is basically already a professional photographer if his Instagram is anything to go by. He’s going to walk out of university with a Photography minor whether he realizes it or not.

“I do,” Jungkook insists, even if right now it sounds like the two of you both need convincing of that fact. “But this project is ridiculous. I don’t even know how my professor expects us to have the time to finish it.”

“What do you have to do?”

Jungkook sighs. Just thinking about it seems to stress him out. “I mean, it’s only really a week long. So I guess it’s not too bad. But we’re supposed to compile a portfolio of the same subject, taken over the course of the week, with them in all sorts of different poses and lighting and locations, to express a personal theme.”

You scrunch your nose up in confusion. “I might be wrong, but isn’t that what photography… is?” You ask cluelessly.

“Yes,” Jungkook argues, “but also no. Photography is taking pictures of things just for the hell of it. Not because they necessarily speak to a part of your soul. You just like the look of it. You want to capture the scene. That’s it.”

“Oh,” You say dumbly.

“And our subject can be whoever or whatever we want, but he recommended choosing a person because taking pictures of our water bottles in different places is boring,” Jungkook huffs, though his professor does have a point there. Modern history wasn’t made out of photographs of store windows and miscellaneous items. It was made out of people, out of events in their lives that shaped the rest of the world, out of personal experiences that changed their point of view. “But I don’t even know anybody who would be willing to let me photograph them for a whole week! I’d basically have to follow them around like paparazzi!”

“I’ll do it,” you suggest casually, because it seems like the most obvious choice to you. There’s no one Jungkook spends as much time with as you.

Jungkook’s eyes pop out of his head. “What?”

“I’m serious,” you insist. “Think about it. You need a subject for your project that you can photograph in a wide variety of places and over the course of a week. Who else do you spend that much time with, other than me?”

“Well..” Jungkook begins, trying to fight your reasons with his own. “Would you even be comfortable with something like that? I mean, I’m literally going to constantly be taking photos of you.”

“Like we don’t already do that on our phones,” you tease, having amassed quite the album of terrible Jungkook pictures over the years.

“A camera is different from a phone,” Jungkook protests weakly.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I’m just saying. It won’t bother me,” you say with a shrug. Why is Jungkook being so… weird about your suggestion? You thought he would be jumping at the offer, especially considering it means he won’t have to go out of his way to find and photograph someone else for this assignment. But he’s being rather hesitant. You watch as he glares down at his empty sushi takeout box, eyebrows furrowed in that thick, nervous way. “But you don’t have to,” you backtrack. “It was just a suggestion.”

He breathes in and breathes out, expression solid. Even from here you can see the cogs whirring in his brain, placing each and every potential result into a pro and con list inside his mind, trying to work out whether the benefits will be greater than the cost.

Quite frankly, you don’t know what all the holdup is about.

“You’re… sure about this?” He asks, looking up at you, determined to ensure your comfort. As if that’s even an issue. “You’re cool with being photographed and everything?”

“Only because it’s you,” you tease lightheartedly, expecting some sort of equally cheesy response. Instead, it makes Jungkook do something weird. He freezes in place, darting his eyes away from your gaze for a split second, collecting thoughts you can’t see. “Yeah,” you say loudly, trying to bring him back. “I’m fine with it.”

He inhales, exhales, closes his eyes, and opens them. “Okay then. I guess it’s settled. You’ll be my subject,” he declares, an almost unnoticeable wobble to his voice. It’s probably nothing, so you don’t think too hard about it.

“Can you at least pretend to be a little more excited about this?” You ask, jabbing him in the chest with a wooden chopstick. “It’s the first time we’ve ever gotten to be part of a project together!”

“Yay,” Jungkook says, lifeless.

“How about a photo to commemorate it?” You suggest, reaching over to pull the camera out of his backpack, pushing it into his hands. “This can be the start of your portfolio.”

“Fine,” he eventually caves, bringing it up to his eye as he turns it on, twisting the lens to perfect the focus. Even caught off guard like this, he looks like a professional, like someone who was born to be behind the camera. He’s a computer science major but you know that photography will always be something special to him.

You strike a dramatic pose, holding your chopsticks out, one in each hand, with a wide, excited smile on your face. “How do I look?” You ask, scrunching your eyes together.

Jungkook’s finger hovers over the silver button. “Perfect,” he tells you, voice soft and honest.

Click.

“So, how many photos are you supposed to take for this portfolio?” You ask as you flop around on Jungkook’s bed, pretending that the open tab on your laptop with your fifty-page reading doesn’t exist. You don’t even know why professors assign readings that long. Do they really expect you to read all of it?

From across his room, you can make out the top of Jungkook’s fluffy brown hair over his sleek gaming chair, one of the ones that look like high-tech airplane seats. “I don’t know,” he says. “He said at least twenty. And no more than fifty. Which really makes me wonder if someone once submitted like, one hundred photos for this project that he had to grade them on. But yeah.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” you say. When you’re around a cute animal, you can easily take twenty photographs. Granted, they aren’t exactly award-worthy photographs, but it’s not a physically demanding task.

“Yeah,” Jungkook says. “Hypothetically you could finish it in a day. But it looks really obvious.”

“Well, how many do you have now?”

It’s been a day and a half since Jungkook agreed to let you be his so-called muse, but already you’ve lost track of how many photos he’s taken of you. He loves his camera, you know that, but you didn’t realize exactly how much he loves his camera. And with you as the sole subject for his project, he’s practically letting it hang from his neck all day long, just waiting for the right time to snap a photo of you standing in line at the food court, frowning at your textbook, or waiting to meet up with him. Every time he sees you he snaps a picture, even if the lighting’s bad, even if you haven’t had your morning coffee yet, even if it’s midnight and you look like a zombie. In his mind, there are no bad pictures. Just memories.

You wonder what the hell he sees in you.

“A lot,” Jungkook answers unhelpfully, making no effort to elaborate on that statement.

“Have you counted?” You ask, getting off of his bed to join him at his desk.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize what you’re doing until you’re standing right next to him, placing a hand over his shoulders as you lean down next to him. He fumbles around for a second, the mouse slipping through his grip, and you catch a glimpse of one of the photos he’s taken of you, a sliver of your pursed lips, the wrinkles between your eyebrows.

It’s from the library yesterday. You didn’t even know Jungkook had taken a picture of you there. You had a stupid reading to complete last night, one that made no sense and was terribly-written, and you spent an hour just trying to figure out what the damn argument was, and Jungkook captured it. You were there for an hour and Jungkook was there too, watching you like it was nothing, waiting for the perfect moment. He was there, sitting across from you, camera at the ready. You didn’t even hear it click.

He closes it before you get a closer look at the photo, frantically hitting the little red dot at the top corner of the window before you have a chance to ask why.

“What, I’m not allowed to see?” You chide, a little bit hurt but more confused than anything else. Why is Jungkook being so secretive?

“No,” Jungkook spits quickly. making you raise an eyebrow in alarm. “I mean, it’s a surprise. You get to see when it’s finished. I still have to… uh, edit. And stuff.”

“Edit? You think I’m that ugly?” You tease, knowing that he probably means color correction but enjoying the way that he gets all flustered when he hears your voice.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at that, like he just realized he made a wrong turn and is desperately backtracking. “What, no! I don’t—I don’t think you’re ugly.”

You laugh, letting the sound of your voice ease the tension in his shoulders, reveling in the way his big doe eyes seem to soften when he realizes you were just teasing. He looks like a kid caught stealing a candy bar from a gas station, looks like one of those boyfriends in the viral videos where the girl reveals that she got him a present or something instead, all nervous and full of explanations.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” you assure him, rubbing up and down his arm to soothe him, calm his heart down. “You don’t have to show me. I’m just excited. No one’s ever taken photos of me like this before.”

“I would,” Jungkook speaks up softly. “If you asked. I would.”

“I know,” You say. You’re not sure if there’s a thing in this world Jungkook wouldn’t do for you, and you, him. If he asked, you would pluck the stars from the sky for him. Bring him back a piece of the moon. Stop time. Anything. Everything. Just for him. “I know.”

“What are you doing?” Jungkook asks, changing the topic as he whirls around in his gaming chair.

“Just another reading, like always,” you dismiss, because you’re positive the last thing Jungkook wants to hear about right now is your primary source reading on irrigation techniques in agrarian Europe. You don’t even want to hear about it. “But I could use some help on Astronomy.”

Without another word, Jungkook gets up from his desk and the two of you head over to his bed, where an untouched problem set waits on your computer. He grabs a notebook from his backpack along the way before sitting down next to you on the edge of his bed, bodies pressed together. Slowly, he begins to coach you through each problem, step by step, drawing pictures and diagrams if he has to, until you finish all ten problems.

The truth is, you didn’t really need help with this unit. Astronomy’s gotten a lot easier now that Jungkook has taught you the strategies to tackle it. But Jungkook sometimes feels like a ghost when he works, especially when he’s sitting at his desk, quiet and focused and almost invisible. And call you clingy, but you like it when you can look up and see his face instead of the back of a chair, a little tuft of wavy brown hair. You like it when he’s right beside you, in a place where you know you won’t lose him, where you can hold on if things get rough. Where you can see his stupid brown eyes and his goofy smile and know that he’ll always be there for you.

When he’s finished, Jungkook doesn’t get back up to sit at his desk. He flops down on his back, staring up at the white ceiling of his room, eyes tracing the cracks. You join him, side by side, pretending that there’s something there. Looking up at the sky would be nicer, but it doesn’t really matter, so long as you’re with him.

“I didn’t know you took so many photos,” you say.

“I never want to miss anything.”

“You should give me more warnings, next time. I feel like I look so ugly in some of them.”

“No, you don’t. Don’t say stuff like that.”

“You don’t think I’m ugly?” You ask him, for real this time. It’s not that you think he’s going to say that he does, it’s that you want to know what he really thinks. How he really sees you. You turn your head to him, back pressed against his comforter, barely a foot apart. And he turns back to you, and he’s right there, right there in front of you, big brown eyes wide and blinking. He’s right there, how could you miss him?

“No,” Jungkook says, honest and true. He looks at you, looks right at you, right into you, and he muses to himself, chuckling. “Why would I ever think that?”

At the end of the day, you can’t really be bothered to put on real pants in anticipation of Jungkook’s trigger-happy camera-taking tendencies. He’s seen you spill a boiling hot bowl of tomato soup all over yourself in the dining hall. He’s seen you at four in the morning in the library the night before finals begin, eyebags down to your knees and mismatched shoes on your feet. He’s seen you in the middle of a frat house, sweat dripping down your forehead and smelling of nothing but straight alcohol. Getting dressed up just for him would be antithetical to the very foundation of your friendship.

You have, however, become keenly more cognizant in the last few days of when Jungkook is about to take a photo of you. Mostly because you glance up at your surroundings every three seconds to make sure you aren’t getting sniped from across the food court. Nobody else needs to see a picture of you picking up three pieces of sushi with your chopsticks and stuffing them all into your mouth at once. And, from what you can tell, you’ve been pretty successful, which either means you’ve gotten better at telling when Jungkook might be taking a photo of you, or Jungkook’s gotten better at hiding it.

Either way, he’s got a lot more pictures of you reflexively flashing a peace-sign in his direction when you hear the telltale sound of his camera lens focusing, so you’re not really sure what that means for the fate of his portfolio.

Besides your newfound hyper-awareness of the sound of a camera lens adjusting, the strangest part of you and Jungkook’s little project is how quickly the rest of your friends adjusted to this brand new dynamic.

This is not to say this assignment is the weirdest thing you and Jungkook have done together, because there was once one week where you and Jungkook challenged each other to only eat bananas for every meal to see if anything would happen to either of you. Nothing did, but after that week you swore off bananas for the rest of your life and have had little appetite for them since.

It’s more that your other friends have just accepted the fact that ridiculous, extravagant shenanigans are a necessary part of you and Jungkook’s relationship and have simply chosen not to question them anymore. At least, most of them have.

“So, how’s you and Jungkook’s little photography fling going?” Maisie asks, and even through the phone you can hear the way she’s wiggling her eyebrows.

“It’s not a fling, and it’s fine,” you hiss back, trying to keep your voice down as you pack up your belongings, phone pressed between your ear and your shoulder. “Stop speaking so loudly, everyone else in the library can probably hear you.”

“Good, because they’ve all probably noticed the way Jungkook’s been following you around like an unrestrained fanboy for the past four days taking pictures of you,” Maisie says pointedly, voice so sharp it causes you to look around at the other tables to make sure no one’s listening in.

You frown, hoping your deadpan expression is audible through the phone. “It’s not like that and you know it.”

“Don’t you think it’s even a little strange that you’ve given Jungkook full permission to take photos of you like you’re a model and he’s some sort of weird, professional paparazzi?” You can practically see Maisie’s face in front of you, all wide eyes and raised eyebrows as she makes her point.

“No, it’s what we agreed on,” you remind her for the umpteenth time. There’s nothing weird about this. You’re helping him with a project, what more could it be? “Jungkook needed someone to take pictures of for his photography project and I thought it would be a good idea if I was that someone.”

“Hmm… wonder why…” Maisie trails off, deliberately vague and suggestive all at once.

“You’ve been going on about this ever since Jungkook and I met, Maise,” you say with a roll of your eyes, tossing your backpack over your shoulder. “You know that Jungkook and I are just friends. Like we have always been.”

“Friends that take candid photos of each other under the guise of a project,” Maisie adds, and you can see the air quotes around the word “project” right in front of you.

“Friends that help each other out because that’s what friends do,” you correct. “You’re just going to have to accept the fact that Jungkook and I are always going to be just friends and nothing more. No matter how much money you’ve bet on us getting together.”

Maisie gasps. “I have not bet money on such a thing! This is slander!”

“Don’t think I don’t see you and Jimin’s damn Venmo history.” You pull up to the front desk of the library to check out a primary source book needed for one of your classes. It’s the first edition, and it’s battered beyond belief, but it’s better than paying for it. “Just this, thanks.”

“The only way you could convince me that you and Jungkook are just friends is if you go on a date or something,” Maisie comments snidely. “I don’t think I’ve seen either of you romantically interested in someone else the entire time you’ve known each other. Isn’t that proof enough?”

“You want me to go on a date with someone?” You demand, determined to get Maisie to hop off your ass about this.

You and Jungkook are just friends. If swiping right with someone on Tinder and getting dinner and a movie with them is what will convince Maisie of that, then that is what you will do. It’s not as if being friends with Jungkook is mutually exclusive with you going out with other people. Should be easy, right?

The boy behind the counter tells you your book is due back at the end of the semester, and you nod your thanks before heading out of the library.

“Fine, I’ll go on a date with someone. If it’ll get you to stop trying to convince me that Jungkook and I are gonna get married and have babies,” you declare, pushing your body against the door handles as you leave, five minutes to spare before your next class begins.

“You guys would have really cute babies, I’m just saying,” Maisie points out like it’s nothing.

You roll your eyes, taking the phone away from your ear as your finger hovers over the red button. “See you, Maise.”

You’re barely three steps out of the library, still rolling your eyes at the Call Ended screen on your phone when a voice catches your attention.

“Y/N!”

You turn your head just in time to see Jungkook’s devilish grin disappear behind his camera, and you don’t even have time to blink before he begins snapping away, finger mashing the silver button at the top as your expression morphs from surprise to defeat, unable to counter his sniping abilities with a signature peace sign. Even from twenty feet away, you can hear Jungkook laughing as you take the opportunity to pose for a few moments, like you really are a model and he really is your personal photographer. The sound of his giggles fills the air, music to your ears, lingering between you like dandelion wisps, blown by the wind.

Another voice breaks you from your trance.

“And here we have our resident celebrity and her paparazzi,” Jimin says, motioning to the two of you as he speaks to an enormous tour group of potential applicants and their parents. Caught in front of them, the heat suddenly rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively cover your face, embarrassed to have been pointed out by Jimin, whose amicable, lovable personality is both a blessing and a curse when it comes to his part-time job as a tour guide.

The worst part is how some of the parents and students seem to believe him for a second, that you really are famous and that Jungkook really is your photographer, looking at the two of you inquisitively as you shrink beneath their gazes.

“I’m kidding,” Jimin quickly continues as Jungkook joins you where you stand, laughing at the way you look like a deer caught in headlights. “They’re just some friends of mine who we happened to catch outside the library, which is our next stop. But don’t they look so cute together?”

“Are you guys dating?” One of the students pipes up, asking what no one else dared to.

Your eyes widen at the notion, wondering if you and Jungkook really are cursed to always be mistaken for a couple when you two have never been, and most likely will never be one. Shaking your head, you force out a laugh, “No, we’re just friends.” Beside you, Jungkook is noticeably silent. You suppose he’s gotten just as sick of explaining as you.

“Bummer, right?” Jimin asks his group, earning a couple of disappointed nods from innocent high-schoolers that still believe in love. “But I’m working on that, so don’t worry. Anyway, this library will be your main destination for studying, book-reading, and everything in between, and is conveniently located two minutes away from the freshman dorms…”

The conversation finally drawn away from you and Jungkook, you let out a breath you hadn’t even realized you had been holding in. “Weird, right? Even high-schoolers think we’re together.”

Jungkook doesn’t meet your eyes, fiddling with the settings on his camera just to keep his hands busy. The quiet makes you wonder what is going on up inside his head, makes you wonder what it is he’s thinking about, what it is you’re not seeing. Lately, it’s felt like there’s something on Jungkook’s mind you wish he felt comfortable telling you.

“Hey, you alright?” You ask, giving him a little nudge with your side. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Jungkook says, voice soft, barely audible. It doesn’t make you feel any better. “No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. Don’t you have class soon?”

“Oh, shit, you’re right, fuck,” you say, checking your phone only to find you have barely a minute to get to your next class. Guess you’ll be using one of your allotted absences today. “Thanks for reminding me. Dinner tonight?”

“I’ll text you,” Jungkook promises, and you nod your agreement as you dash off, determined to turn a five-minute walk into a one-minute one with the power of exercise. As you leave, you watch as Jungkook flounders outside the library, staring down at his camera and scrolling through his photos, and you still find yourself feeling like you’re missing something. What is Jungkook not telling you?

What do you not know?

By the time you reach your class, two minutes late and completely out of breath, tardiness is the last thing on your mind.

This project was just meant to be a friend helping out a friend. So why does it feel like you and Jungkook are losing each other?

Using Tinder is easy. Dangerously so.

You’re no expert in app design, but its simplified “yes or no” mechanic has you swiping through people like it’s an extreme sport, barely giving some of them a second glance if their Tinder profile description doesn’t make you laugh within the first sentence.

Tinder was, admittedly, not your first choice of potential date-finding methods. Call you old-fashioned, but whatever happened to asking someone in person if they wanted to get a meal with you? To showing up at their doorstep with a rose bouquet and a toothy white grin? Perhaps all of those old-timey movies you and Jungkook always watched have given you unrealistic expectations. But can you blame them?

Even if Tinder wasn’t your first choice, it was certainly the fastest. It takes a second to look at someone’s designated Tinder thumbnail, two to read their description, and three to decide if they’re worth a swipe right. Compare that to actively meeting up with someone, getting their contact information, and then continuing to dance around each other until you finally decide to get dinner together. That’s the sort of thing that could take weeks. Maybe months. And in some cases, years.

Besides, it’s not like you had very many options at your disposal. You don’t trust Maisie to set you up with someone because she’ll probably just choose one of the many boys from her management class and call it a day. Asking someone yourself is absolutely out of the question. And, for some strange, unknown reason, the idea of getting Jungkook to hook you up with one of his friends just doesn’t sit right with you.

So, Tinder it is. And as it turns out, chivalry isn’t dead. It’s just archaic.

An hour into your mindless swiping, you get a message notification. Two hours after that, you’ve got plans with a nice senior boy whom you’ve never met.

And for the first time in a very long time, there’s something to mark on your calendar for Saturday night.

The little blue block on your Google Calendar tab stares back at you from where your open laptop sits on your desk, the red line that signifies your current time slowly inching towards it as you fumble around in front of your mirror, more dressed up than you have been in weeks. Maisie was right. It’s been so long since you’ve gone out with someone that you’ve completely forgotten what the dress code is for something like this. A dress? Heels? Makeup?

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you will anyway. What if he’s wearing a hoodie and sweats while you look like you’re about to attend the goddamn Academy Awards? Maybe the eyeshadow was a little too much.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks it’s inevitable that you do. The door to your apartment swings open, and you can hear heavy footsteps making their way to your bedroom, that easy gait of his familiar as always.

“Hey, do you think we can just get some take-out and watch a stupid old noir movie, or something? I’ve had a day,” he shouts out, the sigh audible in his voice.

You don’t want to overshoot it, but part of you thinks you definitely have when you turn around to see Jungkook standing right outside your bedroom in the floppiest sweater you’ve ever seen and jeans with holes in the knees, mouth agape as he stares straight at you. It’s impossible not to notice the way his eyes are blown wide at the sight of you, at the way they rake up and down your figure, like he can’t even believe what he’s seeing. It’s impossible not to notice how he seems to flounder at the sight of you.

The only thing that breaks the both of you out of your stupors, frozen in place like two criminals caught red-handed, is the sound of his hulking black backpack thudding to the floor.

“Whoa.”

“Do you think it’s too much?” You ask, voice wobbly. God, why are you so nervous? It’s just Jungkook.

“Too much for what?” Jungkook blinks, deliberate and slow, as if he’s determined to make sure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. “Where are you going?”

“I think we’ll have to do a raincheck for the noir movie and takeout,” you say sheepishly, pursing your lips together in fright as you force out a small, tense smile. “I’m… going out. With someone.”

“Like,” Jungkook begins, and even from here you can hear the way he stops himself, hear him breathe out every word, thick on his tongue. “On a date?”

“Yeah.”

It’s a one-syllable word and yet it takes nearly all of your willpower just to say it. Just to confirm what Jungkook’s already thinking. Just to tell him, your best friend, your ride or die, your number one, that you’re going out on a date.

“Oh.” Jungkook’s voice is lifeless. “Do I know them?”

“No, uh, it’s just some guy I met on Tinder. I don’t know, I just wanted to see what all the hype was about, I guess. And I haven’t really been on a date in a while, so I figured I might just take up the opportunity, so we’re probably just going to go out to a restaurant and maybe go to a club afterwards if we’re still in the mood, and—” You cut yourself off, so nervous that you’ve resorted to your terrible habit of rambling to try and ease the tension. “Why? Do you think it’s too much?”

“You use Tinder?” Jungkook asks instead. It sounds like he’s shocked to hear this.

“Yeah…” you trail off. “Why?”

Jungkook freezes at the question, but it’s not because it seems like he doesn’t have an answer. It’s because it seems like he does. Only it’s an answer he doesn’t want to share.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” he eventually settles on, shaking his head. “You, uh, you look good.”

“You think? I feel like it’s a lot. I don’t know how to dress appropriately for stuff like this anymore,” you ask, palms sweaty as you furiously straighten out the skirt of your dress. “Should I change into pants, or anything?”

“No, no, I think that’s fine,” Jungkook says with an honest smile. “You look nice like this.”

“It’s probably been like, a year since you last saw me in a dress,” you comment mindlessly, turning back to face the mirror as you fiddle with your makeup, finger wiping away a bit of smudged lipstick or a stray bit of mascara. “I miss my sweats. Hey, whoa, wait, what are you doing—?”

You whip around to find Jungkook slowly fishing out the camera from his backpack, hand gripping it tightly as he brandishes it in front of you.

“I, um, I just wanted to see if I could maybe take a photo of you,” Jungkook says, a small, little grin decorating his features. “Since you’re all dressed up.”

“Seriously?” You ask in disbelief.

Jungkook nods, holding the camera out in front of him. “Just one.”

He looks so small, standing across your bedroom. He looks so small and delicate and intimate, body curled in on itself ever so slightly as he looks at you, the yellow glow of your ceiling light reflected in his hazelnut eyes, drowning beneath his clothes. He looks like he has never seen a moment more perfect, never seen an opportunity as clear, looks like he thinks that if he blinks he’ll miss it.

Looks as if a photo will be the only way to remember it.

And you nod. Because he is your best friend, and who are you to deny him of something so simple? Of a press of a button? It doesn’t feel like a project anymore. It just feels like a memory.

Jungkook brings the camera to his eye, and you smile at him, soft and gentle and warm. He grins back, focusing the camera lens before snapping away.

You wonder what he sees.

(You wonder if it’s as beautiful as what you see.)

“Have fun tonight, okay?” Jungkook asks of you as your Google Calendar notification sounds, letting you know you have approximately two minutes before he’s supposed to pick you up outside your apartment.

You nod. “I will. And if I don’t, then I’ll come over afterwards. And we can watch that stupid noir film.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Jungkook says with a roll of his eyes, a shrug of his shoulders.

“But I want to. So I will. Okay? I’ll text you,” you promise. “Don’t think I’ll forget about you.”

Jungkook smiles at your little tease, at the way you cup the side of his jaw with your hand as you head towards your front door.

“Wait, Y/N,” Jungkook sputters out, running after you. He reaches you right as you get to the door, hand grasping the doorknob. You turn to look at him, blinking. “I hope tonight is everything you dreamed of.”

There is something so distinctly sad in his voice. It makes you wonder who has broken his heart. Makes you wonder what you can do to fix it.

“Even if it’s not,” you say to him, taking his hand in your own and squeezing it tight, reminding him that, no matter what, you’re still here. “I know you’ll always be there to take care of me afterwards.”

Your phone buzzes with a message from your date, and you scurry out the door.

For some reason, there’s a part of you that wishes you never even left.

The date is okay. Not bad, but nothing to write home about. By the time you finished eating, it was obvious neither of you had any interest in continuing the night elsewhere, whether it be a club or a karaoke bar. He pays for your meal despite your insistence that you can handle the check perfectly fine on your own, thanks you for a nice night, and drops you right back at your apartment. And so goes your one and only Tinder experience, blowing away like a leaf in the wind.

You look down at your phone. It isn’t even nine o’clock yet.

[November 7th, 8:48PM]

You: you still game for that movie?

[November 7th, 8:50PM]

Jungkook: you finished your date already?

You: is that a yes or a no

Jungkook: my door is always open, you know that

You: you’re gonna get robbed one day and it’s gonna be by me You: i’m coming over

The walk from your apartment to Jungkook’s is six minutes and thirty seconds on a good day, and seven minutes and fifteen seconds on a bad day, which is usually dependent on if the traffic light over the main road has decided to be extra slow or not. You could walk the damn route in your sleep if you really wanted, having done it so many times in the last year and a half, ever since he moved out of on-campus housing and into his own place.

Tonight, it takes you nearly eight minutes to get to his apartment, but you mostly chalk that up to the heels you’re wearing. If you cared any less about your dignity, you’d probably take them off and walk barefoot like a defeated heroine in a romance movie, shoes dangling from your fingers as they hang low by your side.

But you aren’t defeated. You didn’t have the world’s most spectacular date, but the night isn’t over just yet.

Jungkook’s waiting at his front door by the time you arrive.

“Eight minutes, huh? You’re getting old,” he asks snidely, looking down at the invisible watch on his wrist.

“Your counting is just off,” you retort easily, falling into that same friendly rhythm, that familiar little beat that the two of you share. You push past him and into his apartment, instantly feeling more at home, shoulders sinking and heartbeat soothing as you soak in the scent of his room, of his home, of him.

“How’d it go?” Jungkook asks, eyes hopeful as they watch you tug off your heels. They were hardly three inches tall and yet you still want nothing to do with them.

You shrug. “Eh. It was okay.”

“Just okay?” Jungkook asks, sounding seriously upset for you. Upset that you didn’t have a good night even after you promised him that you would. Upset that it didn’t turn out to be everything you wanted.

“I don’t know,” you admit, looking over at him, dejected. “It just—I just had this feeling that it wasn’t going to work out.”

Jungkook scowls to himself, eyebrows furrowing like he’s trying to figure out what exactly you mean by that. And the truth is, you’re not sure either. The date was fine, and he was nice, but even when you first met it felt like you weren’t going to get what you wanted from him. Like you were just going on the date to go on the date. Like you already knew that it would mean nothing.

Jungkook was going to be waiting for you at the end of the night whether it went amazingly well or terribly bad. And knowing that, strangely enough, almost made you want the date to be horrible. Like it would make seeing Jungkook afterwards that much sweeter.

“Oh,” Jungkook says lamely. “Well, I’m sorry. It seemed like you were really looking forward to it.”

“It’s alright,” you assure him. “Can we just watch this movie now and make fun of how sexist it is? Please?”

To that, Jungkook easily agrees. As he’s queueing up the movie, you raid his closet for a hoodie and sweatpants, desperate to strip yourself of your dress and tights and cozy up in clothes that are much more appropriate for your comfort level. At this point in your friendship, Jungkook doesn’t even question it when he sees you march into his room, fishing through his closet and drawers for your favorite matching set of his, this grey pair that he’s worn so much it still smells like him even after it’s come right out of the wash.

He only stares back in awe when he sees you emerge from his bedroom wearing them.

“Ready?” You ask, breaking him from his resolve.

Jungkook blinks wildly from where he’s seated on his dinky old couch, as if to clear his vision. “What? Oh, yeah, I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Then hurry it up, Mister,” you demand, sitting down next to him and curling into his body. It’s instinctual, at this point, wanting to be close to him. To feel the warmth of his body radiate upon your own. To feel his chest beneath the palm of your hands, his arm wrapped around your side. “All good?” You ask, looking up at him.

Jungkook looks down at you, and you swear, you’ve never seen him more at home. “Always, when I’m with you.”

The movie is predictably good and predictably sexist, but your favorite part by far is when Jungkook reaches around on the coffee table in front of you for his camera, holding it up to his eye and snatching a picture of the television, the film grainy like an old polaroid, faded like an antique photograph. He clicks away at the scene in front of him before turning on you, the lens so close to your face you’re almost certain all he’ll manage to capture is your nose. You laugh, pushing yourself away from him as he snaps, and snaps, and snaps, image after image after image, until his camera battery has died and there’s no more room left on his card.

“Guess I’ll have to charge this thing, then,” Jungkook sighs as he declares his camera dead, screen black.

“You aren’t going to include any of those, are you?” You ask, an eyebrow raised.

Jungkook shrugs. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Don’t you have enough?” You deadpan, thinking back to the hundreds of photos Jungkook must have taken of you over the past week, and even more that you don’t know about. There’s certainly no shortage of them in his current camera inventory. That’s for sure.

“Never,” Jungkook says wickedly. He stretches out an open arm, and you don’t have to think twice about falling into it, letting him wrap you up in his hold, curling into his body.

The black television screen crackles before you, DVD player waiting for Jungkook to turn it off. There’s no need for either of you to look up at each other. Not when you’re strung together like this. Not when you already know exactly where he is.

“It’s due on Monday, right?” You inquire softly, fatigue slowly overtaking you.

“Yeah. I’m almost finished, just have to do some curating and editing.”

“I want to see it.”

“What? My project?”

“What else?”

“It’s just a project, it’s not that exciting.”

You pull away from him at that, looking up at him with furrowed brows and scrunched-up nose. “What do you mean ‘it’s not that exciting’? It’s your photography project. You’ve spent a whole week working on it.”

“Yeah, but it’s just you, you know?” Jungkook objects. “Like, you know what you look like. It’s just going to be a bunch of photos of you, like I said it’d be.”

“That’s exactly why I want to see it,” you say like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You took pictures of me for a whole week. Don’t you want to share them with me?”

“If you really want some of the photos, I’ll send you some, but you don’t need to see the whole portfolio, you know? It’s just for my professor,” Jungkook says stiffly, surprisingly resistant. What’s the big deal? It’s not like there will suddenly be new information about you that you didn’t know before. You want to see what Jungkook has been working tirelessly on this entire week. Where’s the harm in that?

“Why are you getting so hung up on this? It’s just photos,” you say with a frown.

“Why are you getting so hung up on this?” Jungkook challenges back.

You sigh, sinking back into him, defeated. Even a little disagreement like that is enough to knock the wind out of the both of you, so you decide not to push it much further.

“Do you promise to show me eventually?” You ask, hopeful.

Jungkook pauses for a moment, and you almost expect him to say no, considering how protective of his work he’s being. “One day,” he declares. “One day, I will.”

And that’s good enough for you.

You lose track of how much time passes after that, feeling your eyelids getting heavy as the warmth of his body envelopes you, drowsiness settling in. There’s just something about this moment, right here, right now, that makes you want to fall asleep.

You’re on the verge of slumber when Jungkook’s voice breaks through.

“Why didn’t you think your date would work out?”

“I don’t know,” you respond sleepily, barely even opening your eyes. “It just felt wrong.”

“How do you know what feels right?”

Good question. Perhaps if you had the energy, you’d answer it. But right now, all you can think about is how cozy you feel in Jungkook’s hoodie and sweatpants, how the scent of him surrounds you, that indescribable, boyish aroma that can’t be replicated. Right now, all you can think about is how easily your body molds into his, like two pieces of a puzzle meant to fit together. Right now, all you can think about is him.

The worst part about each and every week is when it ends. Because the end of one week signifies the beginning of the next, and when you’re in university, the beginning of the next week means a whole new batch of assignments that you have to complete and a whole new batch of due dates to meet.

So, yeah. The weeks have been blurring together for you lately. But what else could you expect?

Sunday evening, as per usual, finds you right back where you always are: Jungkook’s apartment.

The two of you have been regularly getting together on Sundays to study, ever since you both realized you work significantly harder when motivated by the other, determined to finish all of your work on time so you can spend the rest of the night fooling around by mixing Monster with as many unhealthy drinks that you can possibly think of. And it’s been working out well for the both of you so far. Jungkook powers through his coding assignments and you whiz through your readings, intent on keeping up to date with your tasks so they don’t all come crashing down on you at the end of the semester.

Studying with Jungkook has always been easy, largely due to the fact that it’s the one allotted time during your friendship where the both of you deem it best to not speak to each other for the sake of your work. The moment one of you opens your mouth it’s over, so you sit on opposite ends of the room and pretend that the other person isn’t even there.

Jungkook told you earlier today that he had already finished his photography portfolio, so there would unfortunately be no sneaky glances over his shoulder to see if you can catch a glimpse of one of the pictures. Which is fine by you, you’re just a little embarrassed that Jungkook had told you this outright. Not that you were planning to do exactly that, but you were planning to do exactly that.

Part of you. more than anything, wants to know why Jungkook won’t just show you himself. Why he’s being so secretive, so protective of his photography project when you both know already exactly what’s in it. For God’s sake, he just spent the entire week taking photos of you non-stop. It’s like not as if any part of this is a mystery to either of you. What more could he have done?

Whatever. You aren’t going to force it if he doesn’t want you to. You suppose that maybe one day, far into the future, he’ll finally decide that the time is right.

“I’m so fucking tired,” Jungkook declares lifelessly as he gets up from where he’s sitting on your bed, dead inside. “I need a break.”

“Are you going to the kitchen? Can you make me some tea, please?” You ask him, looking up from the laptop on your desk.

Jungkook nods wordlessly before disappearing out of the room.

You and Jungkook’s best study practice to maximize productivity is the taking of each other’s cell phones so that the other cannot be tempted to look at it. It’s worked plenty of times before and will probably work plenty of times again, because as they say, out of sight, out of mind.

Unfortunately, it’s hard to pretend that your phone is out of sight when it’s been buzzing on your bedside table for the past five minutes, and your fingers have been itching to get over there and answer your damn notifications. So, while Jungkook is out of the room, you decide to cheat a little by dashing over there just to see what the heck is going on in the rest of the world.

As it turns out, nothing much. Just Maisie texting you as she binges yet another television show, giving spoiler-free updates anytime anything remotely dramatic happens. You have a couple of new emails as well.

The thing that actually catches your attention the most, is Jungkook’s laptop screen.

There’s just a Word document open on it, but a Word document is a far cry from his usual coding program or Photoshop. Because you can’t help yourself, you peer over to see what he’s written.

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Hard to say that I have. I don’t think I learned something about myself so much as I confirmed what I already knew, cementing it as a real thought in my brain, rather than just a daydream. Nothing changed in the way that my best friend and I interacted, and I can almost confirm that nothing changed in the way that she feels about me, just as nothing changed in the way I feel about her. I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.

What?

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Not as a reference but to remind myself of this very moment in my life—a single week over the course of my life that I felt was worth saving. I imagine that there will come a time, far in the future, where my best friend and I have separated a little bit, found our own lives and created our own families with our own people. And when that happens, I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

This feels personal. Maybe you should stop reading. But there’s just one more question left on the page…

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. If it meant getting to spend more time with her, take more photos of her, see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

“Y/N?”

You hadn’t even heard the kettle whistling.

“Jungkook,” you say, breathless, caught red-handed.

“What are you doing?” He asks, placing your steaming cup of tea down on the desk as he stares back at you in horror, in surprise, in worry, in something. Something that gives you this imminent sense of impending doom.

“Uh—”

“Were you reading my computer screen?”

It’s not like you could say you were doing anything else.

“I couldn’t help myself, I came over here to check my phone since it’s been buzzing like crazy and your computer was right there and I just…” you sputter out, thoughts swirling inside your head.

(I will look back on this project to remind myself of who we used to be. How we used to feel about each other. Maybe, by that point in time, it won’t hurt as much as it does now.

If it meant getting to see her smile once more, I would do it a thousand times over.

I guess you could say I learned that I don’t think anything could ever change the way I feel about her.)

“What do you mean, how you feel about me?” You ask, because you can’t help yourself. Because the sound of his voices echoes in your head like the beat of a drum, over and over and over. Because you’re staring back at him and even if he just caught you snooping through his computer you can never be worried when it comes to him. Because everything he has ever done puts you at ease.

“Y/N, that is private, why would you read something like that?” He asks, each word a sucker punch into your heart.

“Because I just had to know, okay?” You shout back. “I had to know what you were hiding from me.”

“So you decided to snoop through my computer to see if you could figure it out yourself?” He demands, storming over to you.

“So you are hiding something?”

“That’s not the point, the point is that—”

“What are you not telling me, Jungkook?” You cry out, watching as he approaches you, dark eyes piercing your gaze. “Why won’t you show me your goddamn portfolio? If there’s really nothing to be afraid of, why are you keeping it from me? I’m your best friend, I’m the fucking subject of your project? Don’t I deserve to see it? Why won’t you show me?”

“Because then you’d know!” Jungkook shouts back, leaving deafening silence in his wake. You look up at him, blinking. In front of you, Jungkook is out of breath, chest heaving.

He looks so strained. So tired. Like he’s been carrying around this secret for months now, maybe even years, and this is the final straw. This is what has sent the both of you crashing down upon each other. This stupid fucking project. You’ve known Jungkook ever since the beginning of your freshman year, and never before have you seen him so hopeless.

“Jungkook—?”

“You’d know, goddamnit,” Jungkook says, hand coming up to rub at his forehead, dragging down his cheek. “And I wasn’t sure if I was ready for that.”

“Know what? What would I know?”

Jungkook closes his eyes. Takes a deep breath. Opens them again. “That I’m in love with you.”

The words drift in between the two of you, hovering in the air like feathers. You see them, clear as day, in front of you, hear them echoing in your head, over and over and over again. Feel the way your blood is pumping, the way your heart is beating.

“You’re in love with me?” You ask him.

“I didn’t want you to find out this way,” Jungkook admits. “Or at all, really. But I have been, for a while now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was afraid that I’d lose you.”

You chuckle, a small, little thing from the back of your throat. “You must have known I’d never let that happen, hmm?”

Jungkook smiles softly. “I was scared. Can you blame me? You’re my best friend.”

“And you are mine,” you remind him.

“It’s just—” Jungkook begins, like the gates of a dam are opening up. “We’d known each other for so long, and we have such a good thing going as is, always texting and calling and hanging out together, studying together on Sunday nights and seeing each other during the week, and I didn’t want to ruin anything. And then my professor assigned this project, and the only person I could think of to take photos was you, but I didn’t want to ask that of you in case you thought it was weird, but you suggested it anyway so I said yes, but I knew. I knew then that the moment I took one goddamn photo of you it would be obvious, and that if you ever saw you would just know. Stuff like that is easy to pick up in pictures, because a camera is like, tunnel vision for whatever it is you want to focus on most, and that’s you, that’s always been you, so I—”

“Jungkook,” you interrupt, reaching out to him, pressing a soft hand to his cheek. “Just, shut up, okay?”

And then you cup his head in both of your hands, and press a kiss to his lips. A small one, if nothing else, but a kiss nonetheless. You press your lips against his own and immediately you feel the sparks rush through you, this flash of heat that settles into something softer, something sweeter. It ignites and soothes you all at once, like a stray lightning bolt out on the open ocean. Like a single clap of thunder and the pitter patter of rain.

You press a kiss to his lips and when you pull away, Jungkook’s eyes are closed, lips parted ever so slightly. And for a moment there, you almost think you did the wrong thing.

But barely a second more passes before he’s scooping you up in his arms and pulling you in close to him, his lips finding yours like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. He holds you tight, hands pressed against the small of your back as he kisses you, warm and fiery and full, as if he can’t get enough, as if this is his only chance. You gasp into it before relaxing in his hold, cold hands on his warm cheeks, body melting at the feeling of him, of him all over you, of his hands and his mouth and his chest, this perfect, solid figure.

He kisses you and it sends heat shooting through your body, filling you up from the inside out, like your heart has burst and filled your bloodstream with fire, with sparks of warmth that tingle all over. He kisses you, and everywhere his hands press is another sizzle to your skin, an electric shock that makes you giggle into his mouth.

He kisses you and it feels like a storm has settled, feels like gentle rain after a hurricane, feels like waves crashing against the shore. He kisses you and it is the only thing you can think about.

By the time you part once more, you don’t think you’ve ever seen Jungkook so blissed out.

“See?” You point out softly. “Nothing to be afraid of.”

Jungkook looks positively dazed. “I think I need to lie down.”

“Ooh, was I that good?” You tease.

“I’m dreaming.” He shakes his head. “I’m definitely fucking dreaming.”

Jungkook sinks onto your bed, hitting the mattress with a thud. He stares mindlessly in front of him, like his brain needs time to process.

You smile to yourself. He can have all the time in the world.

“Is this real?” He mumbles when you sit down next to him, press another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Are you real?”

“Just like you,” you promise him. “I didn’t know this is what we had been missing, all this time.”

“It wasn’t missing,” Jungkook assures you. “It was just hidden.”

“I love you,” you whisper, watching him swallow the words like a glass of wine. “I think I always have. You just needed to say it first.”

“Oblivious as always.” Jungkook grins, smiling against your lips. “But I’m glad. If this is what it would take, then I’m glad.”

“You wouldn’t change anything?” You ask him, eyes wide and curious.

It’s hard to know how long you and Jungkook have been secretly pining over each other. Hard to know how long Jungkook has known that he’s loved you, how long it’s been since you started to feel the same, even if subconsciously. It’s hard to know how long you would have kept going if not for this project. It might have been months. Years. Years that Jungkook was willing to spend holding back, if only it meant keeping you by his side.

“No,” Jungkook says like it’s the easiest answer in the world. “I have you now. Why would I?”

What did you learn about yourself through this assignment? How do you think you’ve changed?

Previously, I had responded to this question by saying that I hadn’t learned anything, and felt that nothing changed in my life. Then, some things happened. And after those things, I learned that I am the luckiest man alive. To know my best friend is one thing. To love her is a privilege. To have her love me back is nothing less than a miracle.

Do you think you’ll ever look back on this project, whether it be as a reference or a memory?

Yes. Every day for the rest of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been as thankful to receive a homework assignment as I am, right now. I owe everything to this project. It is the reason I have her.

This assignment forced you to create an entire portfolio, from scratch, using a subject you would have to regularly schedule time with. It was demanding. But, that said, would you ever do this again?

Yes. I want to take photos of her for the rest of my life. I want to save every memory we ever share together. So that far into the future, we can look back on them together and say, “Remember that?”

↳ links are broken, but don’t forget to message me with any thoughts or feedback!

#jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #bts fluff #bts angst #bts scenario #jungkook scenario #bts imagine #jungkook imagine #bts au #jungkook au #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #w: the love project #yes i am finishing this at 6am on the day its meant to be posted... MIND UR OWN BUSINESS

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limitlessgojo · 3 years ago

Text

Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 13)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Goldenrod

Next Chapter: The More You Know

Next SFW Chapter: Big White Lies

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, and please mention it in the comments below ty ❤

Chapter 13: Home Sweet Home

That weekend you went back home. It was so refreshing to see everyone. You yelped out with joy as you ran over to your cousin “Hiroki niichaaaan~” You jumped into his arms.

He hugged you tight. “How have you been doin lil sis?”

“Very good! I missed you all so much, especially you Hiroki nii." You pouted up at him.

You caught up with your family, had meals with them, and trained with Hiroki. They were most curious about your soulmate, as you have expected.

“What’s he like? Aren’t people from the big 3 clans so stuck up all the time? Even Satoru is full of himself at times, ey?”, Hiroki asked you with a mouthful of food.

“He isn’t too bad to be honest. He’s a gentleman and sweet with me. Decent man. Just, seems a bit like the private type? I mean… Doesn’t talk much about his family even though we are soulmates. Oh I’ve already talked to him about you guys.” You added.

Hiroki tilted his head, “Ehhh… mysterious huh.”

“Give him time. The Kamo Clan aren’t the most open minded people. They’ll feel you out before allowing you in.” Your dad said.

“Even though I’m his soulmate?!” You exclaimed.

Silence. “We don’t know what they’re thinking so we can’t say for sure.”

◇◇◇

“Heh, you’ve gotten better lil sis,” Hiroki dropped low and thrusted out his spear. You jumped and immediately shifted your stance to land a kick on him. He easily parried and slipped out of your range.

Your family specializes in dealing with reverse cursed techniques aside from the occasional esper. Hiroki was only a semi-grade 1, because he trained his ass off for years.

Now that he’s built, he uses cursed tools to help him fight. A strong 185cm man can definitely handle close combat well. And in terms of healing abilities, he was number 1 in the clan.

It was only the women in your family that were able to inherit psychokinesis for some reason. But usually it only applies to a specific thing. Like how your mom can control plants. And your other aunt does with small metallic items like coins and darts.

Mother approached you after your sparring session. "Does he make you happy my dear?" Your mother asked you. Hiroki drank quietly from his water bottle.

You thought about it. The past few months were not easy but really colorful with Noritoshi. Minus the nagging feeling of him covering up his family affairs from you.

But… "He does. I feel so safe with him ma. Like I do with all of you. He is family to me now. I think I really like him and I trust him with my life." You whispered out.

"Then next time, bring him here. We will gladly welcome him with open arms." Hiroki smiled at you and leaned into your side.

◇◇◇

You went to visit your dead older sister’s grave just before you went back to Kyoto Jujutsu High School.

It was just you and Hiroki. You both cleaned the grave, trimmed the weeds, changed the flowers, burned fresh incense, and said your prayers for Sora. It was such a clear day with barely any clouds. The sky was so blue.

Just like her namesake.

Hiroki left you to give you some privacy, saying that he’ll pick you up in 2 hours.

You took a deep breath. “Sora neechan. It’s been a while. Sorry I couldn’t come to see you as often, because I’m currently a student at Jujutsu High.”

“I met this guy. He … So he is my soulmate. The first time I met him, I thought he was pretty. As I got to know him more, I felt as if there was a reason as to why the heavens chose him for me you know? He is really cool, but so warm and sweet with me. I think I’m a little bit in love with him.” You admitted.

“I’m really scared to lose him. After I lost you, I just… it was hard… I try my best to be cheerful and helpful really. But it gets tiring at times. I’m glad I was able to make a lot of friends who understand the life of a Jujutsu sorcerer at least. I tried to open up to Noritoshi a bit more. But it’s hard because he seems so closed off at times.”

You had mixed feelings, because you promised Noritoshi you would trust him more. That means working on anything that bothers you regarding your relationship with him. But can he accept it if you tell him that you want to know more about his family? He already clearly stated he needs more time.

“Am I being too greedy and hasty Sora? I want to support his clan affairs, even if it's just a tiny bit as his soulmate. He seems so troubled with it all the time. Like he wants to carry the burden all alone. I want to help, but he doesn’t really let me. I don’t know. I wish you were still here with me.”

“Last time I asked him about his parents, he snapped at me. Of course he apologized. … Maybe it’s all just in my head. But I do want to meet his family. Eventually. Though at this rate I have no idea when. Everytime I ask about them he just shuts up.”

“Falling in love is way too hard….”

The wind blew as if to agree with you. The leaves rusted in a circular dance just around the grave. You smiled.

You bid farewell to your family after the weekend. Hiroki hugged you tight and whispered, “I hope it gets better for you and Kamo kun soon enough.”

You looked up at him, “Yeah, thanks bro.”

◇◇◇

You texted Noritoshi and let him know that you were on your way back. He said he was free for the evening and that you could come over to his room.

You knocked on his door with anticipation. You opened the door, “I'm back, Toshi!” He pulled you into a tight hug and closed the door behind you. “I missed you. Come in. How was your family? Sorry I couldn’t go with you again.”

“It’s fine! They’re all okay and excited to meet you next time.” You looked up at him. He looked a bit regretful, “Next time I’ll make sure to properly clear my schedule with my father so I can go meet them okay?”

“Ah, okay.” You both walked over to his table and knelt down on the floor.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you this for a while,” you started. Noritoshi looked on intently. “I’ve already told you about my family right? Mom and dad and my other male cousins. Ah, what I didn’t tell you before was… I used to have an older sister. I - uhm. Well she died after being attacked by a curse. I … I hope to bring you to her grave one day.”

Noritoshi’s heart dropped. He pulled you in close. “I’m so sorry to hear that. I’m sure she is proud of you. Of course I’ll go with you to see her next time.” He was now highly regretting choosing to do some useless tasks for some of his clan’s elders instead of spending the weekend with you.

You gripped his clothes tighter. “Thank you, that really really means a lot to me.” You started tearing up, but you blinked your tears away.

"Oh! My family and I have gifts for you. I'm not so sure if you'll like it. It's a Coral and gold bracelet. Everyone in my family has one. It's almost like tradition for us, and we believe it to have a layer of protection. I also brought Jade here for you." You presented the bracelet alongside the Dragon carved Jade Pendant hanging on a thick white gold chain.

Noritoshi's eyes widened. The jewelry was stunning and looked expensive. He may have been favoured as the heir to the Kamo clan, but even he didn't own so much expensive jewelry.

He sputtered out “I appreciate it but I can’t take something so expensive and precious-”

“Noritoshiiii,” you whined out loud, making him stop talking. “You don’t want to accept such a precious gift that I picked out for you?” you whined with the largest puppy eyes.

“No, I- I am grateful. Thank you, I’ll accept it.” Noritoshi conceded.

Got him. You grinned madly as he shook his head. “You’re a dangerous one,” he muttered under his breath. “What was that?” you asked him absentmindedly as you worked on unclasping the bracelet to put it around his wrist. “Nothing, nothing at all dearest.”

You narrowed your eyes at him before grabbing his wrist and putting it on for him. It was a perfect fit. You thanked yourself for loving to hold his hand so much that you knew his general hand measurements.

His hands down to his wrists were so pretty. You didn't realize that you were playing with and smiling down at his fingers until he opened up his hand and linked his fingers with yours.

Slowly, carefully. Falling in love with you was the easiest thing Noritoshi had experienced. Now that he had embraced his emotions and tried to open up to you, it was a bit better now.

'Is this what love is? I don't know since it's my first time experiencing it.' Noritoshi wondered to himself.

It was in the smallest of things with you. He loved the way you would call out his name with loving eyes. The way you would always greet him first before the other senpai. The way you give him coffee and kisses on late and cold nights of studying.

The way your hair smells. Your perfume. The way your eyelids flutter shut when he kisses you. The tightening of his chest and shortness of his breath made apparent whenever he was with you.

The way you don't ask for too much from him. Just that he shows his love to you either by his actions or words. The comfort he simply feels when he is beside you.

He really just needed some time, and seeing you around more often really made up for it.

He ticked the inside of your palm which made you shiver and yelp. He laughed out loud at this and pulled you into his lap, hugging you tightly.

Staying quiet, you buried your head in his chest. You could feel his heartbeat, and it was faster than you expected. But soon it went back down to a steady rate.

"Your heartbeat is so steady, but mine is always wild around you. Noritoshi I feel kinda embarrassed to be honest." You admitted, fingers curling into his kimono.

He smiled and his heartbeat quickened to match yours. You looked up at him in confusion. "Did you just…" He just leaned down to rub his nose against yours. "I am a blood manipulator. I can manipulate my pulse rate darling." You huffed out a laugh, feeling warm and fuzzy.

"I love you." You said suddenly. He stared in shock at your words. You realized that you said it without intending to. But you didn’t take it back.

"Kamo Noritoshi I'm madly in love with you." It wasn't a sudden realisation of being in love. You slowly fell for him again and again each day.

Noritoshi’s brain short circuited.

Suddenly he was kissing you. Tongue slipping into your mouth and playing with yours and rubbing along the roof of your mouth.

You tried to fight his tongue for dominance, but you ended up surrendering, your back bent back with your face turned up towards him.

You clasped your hands around his neck as he pressed deep kisses against the top of your chest. Your face was flushed as you fell limp against him, gasping out heavy breaths. "I'm not going anywhere angel." Noritoshi whispered against your neck, hands tightening possessively against your waist.

‘Please wait a little longer for me. Until I can confirm that these feelings for you are indeed true love.’ His thoughts went unsaid.

The one thing Noritoshi promised to himself is that he would never lie about his feelings for you. To him, the worst he could do was to confess his love without actually being in love with you.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #itadori yuji #jjk fanfic #fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x oc #jjk fluff #jjk x you #jjk fic #noritoshi fluff #blood bound #red strings of fate

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aizawabby · 4 years ago

Text

LILY (m)

Pairing: Yakuza!Tamaki Amajiki x florist! Reader

Plot: your flowers were the one thing you loved the most in your life... well it’s in the top ten so you bet your ass that you would scream at anyone who would dare to ruin and it didn’t matter if the person was the biggest mobster around.

Genre: mafia au, florist au , NSFW 18+

word count: 6k

Warnings: slight sub/dom play, soft dom Tamaki, explicit smut, oral(f), vaginal penetration, creampies, mirror sex, choking, no protection (wrap it before you tap it), light spanking, mentions of sucking dick, multiple orgasms, praising ish, fat cock Tamaki, dirty talk, slight mention of blood (I was listening to auralescent while writing the smut)

Disclaimer: this is my first time writing explicit smut so pls if I didn’t any mistakes or need to improve any where pls let me know! Also the art work above is not mine nor do I own any of the bnha/mha characters.

A/n: hello~ this is my first fic in this blog, I really hope you guys like!! I’ve been planning it since a month and got way to lazy to complete it :(

ko-fi

The hot rays of sun burn your skin as you walk out of your flower shop for the 10th time today to display your flowers letting them get sunlight. Regretting not putting on sunscreen before leaving home, you whipped the sweat off your face and smiled at the aesthetic you created in front of your flower shop.

It truly was beautiful.

Satisfied with your work you were ready to go back into the air conditioned store. As you neared the glass door, a loud thud noise that came from the background making you flinch. Praying as you turned around you hoped that whatever caused that thud had nothing to do with your flowers and it was just the neighbors cat, Ginger, who had once again jumped over the garbage bin and toppled it over.

You sighed in relief when you saw that your flowers were still intact. Just when you were about to go back a man with a white cloak tripped over your vases not paying attention while running ruining all your hard work.

The man laying on the ground looked at your angry face and seemed like he was about to cry, but you didn’t care right now. You were furious, all your hard work has gone to waste just because one person didn’t pay attention to where he was going.

Getting off the ground he noticed how you were about to start to scream at him, quickly got up and started apologizing.

“Look here sir, apologizing isn't going to do shit for my flowers nor is it going to clean up this mess so I suggest you t-” just as you were about to finish your sentence you felt him grip your wrist and pull you into your store.

‘What the hell’ you thought as you looked up at your captive, he pushed you on to a corner wall where no one could see you, his one hand on your mouth keeping you from making any noise while the other was near your head trapping you from the outside world.

If you weren’t being kidnapped in your own store you would’ve been very much aroused by the situation.

Having let your only staff member go on their lunch break, leaing you alone with your captor was not helping your situation either. Even if you scream for help no one would come to your rescue.

Your captor must have felt your gaze as he looked your way and then looked away once again a blush creeping on his cheeks.

What the hell? Why is he blushing

You continued to study his features so that you will be able to memories them in case he decides to do something, only if you were left alive.

damn he’s cute

You watched him as he kept shifting his gaze from you and the window, curious to what he was eyeing, you peered your eyes out the window to see some pro-hero, whose name you couldn't remember, along with some police officers gathered together holding a piece of paper which seemed like a sketch, showing it to civilians that walked past them.

Since your hearing quirk wasn't going to help you get free you thought it might be useful to hear what the heroes were saying.

“Have you seen this man?” one of them asked “please if you do call the police station right away”. The hero held out a picture. It was your capture.

Holy shit

You let out a quiet gasp at the information discovered, your capture hearing the sudden noise turned towards you once again, his gaze unreadable.

He masked his emotions so you wouldn't be able to tell how nervous he was staying within such close proximity with you. Something he learned pretty early, since in his line of work showing any type of emotions was a weakness.

The sweet smell of your perfume that was helping calm his nerves, was making him lose focus on the tasks at hand. Finding an opening to escape without the pros seeing him.

God how did he want to bury his head is the crook of your neck a- his train of thoughts broke as he felt you try to wiggle out of his grasp.

He glared at you, eyes dark and menacing seeding chills to your spine, he was about to lean closer when the pro-hero left their post and started walking towards their new location.

‘That was close’, he thought

He freed your mouth and placed it on the hand on the other side of your head trapping you. “W-who are you?” you managed to say, he looked you in the eye “Suneater,”.

Thank god for the wall that was supporting you because you were sure that you would've fell on the floor because how much your knees had been wobbling out of fear and being so close with this very handsome man who happens to be the biggest mafia leader of Tokyo.

You blankly stared at him as the headlines from several news articles popped in your head about the man holding you captive, opening your mouth to say-no to beg for your life, this is definitely not the way you imagined yourself dying.

“I” you breathe out watching as the man leaves from his spot, freeing you.

‘is he getting some torture weapon? Is this because i screamed at him omg me and my stupid big mouth’ as your mind filled with gruesome thoughts when all of a sudden cough broke your trans, you whipped your head to the noise almost getting whiplash from the sudden movement.

It was him.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, his head hung low looking at his shoes as if they were much more interesting than you. He rubbed his palms together and was saying something under his breath. It almost seemed like he was...shy

What the hell is up with this guy?

“I… um… i am sorry for that” wide eyed and mouth agape you watched the man who once looked so frightening you nearly passed out from fear was now stumbling on his words as he apologized to you.

‘God i need to talk to my therapist after this, if i get out of this’

He lifted his head, his eyes barely noticeable as they stayed hidden due to the length of his hair. “I… I am s-s-sorry for putting you through this mess. I-it's just because, you see I didn't mean to, it's just that” he paused, he looked as if he were about to cry. What does one do in this situation? Do you go and console him for kidnapping you in your own store?

Confused, you stayed still, scanning him to look for some weapons he can use on you, eyes stopped at his trembling hands.

He’s bleeding

Once again mumbling something under his breath he continued “ you see, some people are looking for me, a-and because of some… things, that's why i ended up bumping into you, i-i didn't mean to knock down your flowers, you see i was just in such a hurry and needed a place to hide that i brought you here” he explained his situation.

He looked back at you waiting for you to respond,

“Are you gonna kill me?” he looked at you even more panicked than before almost like he was disgusted at the sheer thought “oh no no no no” he frantically moved his arms telling you no.

“Good, because i know how to fight” you lied, but seeing how scared he is you began to question whether this man actually was the notorious yakuza you heard about on the news.

Maybe he was the weak twin no one knew about

Your legs finally regained their strength and you leaned off the wall, and walked past Suneater as you disappeared in one of the rooms in the back of your shop.

“Are you coming?” your head peered from the room as you waved your hand at him to come.

‘What are you doing?!? Inviting a yakuza in your safe place’ you thought, while one part of your mind told you to run, the other told you to stay you were conflicted.

Your thoughts were interrupted when you heard Suneater enter the room, without turning around, you pointed at the chair, “sit” said a little more sternly than you wanted to. Confused at the sudden change in your demeanor, he raised an eyebrow at you, why did you want him here with you when you knew his truth. Anyone with the slightest of common sense would call the police right now, yet you stayed calm.

“Look” you turned around, tiered “ if your not gonna kill me then let me help you with your injury”

‘injury? What injury?’

He looked down at his hand feeling a sting. There was a deep cut, most likely from when he knocked over your flowers ‘oh’ his palm was covered in blood.

He sat down at the designated seat waiting for you, closing his eyes letting the sweet and earthy smell of the flowers fill his nostrils, calming his senses.

* * *

“Hey did you even listen to a word I said?” Tamaki lifted his head from his palm, “hmm?”. The spiky red head grunted, rubbing his hands on his face tired of his boss being so distracted.

“What’s gotten into you, man?” he questioned, Tamaki innocently looked at him as if he did nothing.

Truth was he was bored, he knew the plan they had went over it a millions of times heck he was the one who made it in the first place.

“Nothing Kirishima, I heard you, ” he said, moving his gaze to where he was looking before, Kirishima followed the direction in which he was looking and spotted you.

You were out in the scorching sun, moving huge pots of flowers around the front of your store.

Grinning he looked back at his superior “why are you looking at me like that” Tamaki said, not liking the way Kirishima smiled at him, he knew something.

“You got a crush don’t ya boss?” Kirishima proceeded to repeatedly poke his bosses arm, annoying him.

“fuck of” Tamaki flustered, turned around avoiding Krishima’s graze, maybe he did have a small crush.

“hey boss” Kirishima scooted his chair closer to Tamaki “after our mission why don’t ya go get her number hmm? Who knows you might even get a date” he said grabbing his bosses shoulder and shaking it as he told him to man up.

* * *

He broke out of thoughts feeling the pads of your fingers linger over his palm.

“Is this okay?” you kneeled in front of him, placing the safety kit on your lap concentrating on the task at hand.

“Y-yeah” you looked up, worrying that you might have hurt him accidentally, instead of seeing him wince in pain you were faced with a blushing yakuza.

Not knowing how to react you quickly lower your gaze and continue working on the task at hand.

“You're good at this,” he was the first to speak, breaking the silence.

“Huh, oh yeah i guess,” you let out a nervous laugh, “I used to volunteer as a nurse in hospitals back when I was in college, at one point in my life i wanted to become a doctor or nurse, to help people like pro-heroes did but then i lost interest in the subject and started to like other things so i opened up a flower shop,” you bit your lip realizing you might have over shared, “sorry that was to much wasn't it?” he smiled.

Shaking his head no, he looked at you warmly making you feel weird inside. As the two of you continued to talk, you learned more about him, nothing too personal but enough to make you feel like maybe just maybe you were starting to become friends.

“Alright all done, Tamaki” giving him a bright smile as you got up. He looked at his bandaged hand, smiling “Thank you, Y/n”. He got up from his seat, bidding you goodbye after apologizing for the inconvenience he caused, and walked towards the front door.

“Wait Tamaki!!!” you ran towards the front door hoping he hadn't left already, opening the door you called out for him once again, he stops and turns to look at you, confused as to why you called him.

“Y/n? What happened, are you okay?” he waited for you to catch your breath “yeah i'm fine i just,, i wanted to give you something” the tips of your ear started to burn as you felt a blush creep in, you handed him a purple lily.

Dumbstruck at the present he stayed quiet, smiling shyly as he reached for the purple flower, his fingers grazing you for a second, blushing he thanked you for the gift “ but why?” he asked, finally gaining the confidence to look at you.

You were smiling softly, a light blush spread on your cheeks “it reminded me of you,” you looked at him “and it's pretty like you” you said mentally cursing at yourself for voicing your inner thoughts, and for blushing harder.

Before the tomato looking man could say anything else, you ran back into your shop waving him goodbye.

* * *

Six months ago today, you were ‘kidnapped’ by the notorious Suneater. Your life hasn’t changed much since, you still wake up everyday at 8 am, you still drink the same type of coffee, and you still come back home at 8 pm.

But there was one thing that was significantly different, everyday at noon Tamaki would present himself in front of your store.

At first, it started with him coming to your shop, waiting outside debating whether he was coming in or not.

You would stay in the back of your cash register, listening to him mumbling to himself “common just go say hi that’s all you can do! Common just like you did with kirishima” you giggled.

But without a word he would leave. Disappointed you waited for the next day, maybe then he’ll talk to you.

The next week, he finally came in the store, (with the push of a spiky redhead) he wandered around before picking up a single rose, and came to the cash.

Ever since that day, he started to come more often and stayed longer talking to you about everything and nothing.

Slowly, his visits at the store became more constant just like his presence in your life.

“Are you here to buy something or to see me?” you winked at him going in the store, leaving a flustered indigo haired man behind.

He followed you inside, taking a deep breath calming his racing heart.

“Do you like me?” you asked casually as you picked up boxes from the front desk. Eyes wide Tamaki looked at you and gulps nervously before speaking “I-um I...w-well actually”

‘Fuck was I that obvious?’ He mentally screams at himself.

You laugh at his panicked expression “I’m just kiddin Tama, you don’t need to worry, come on help me with these boxes” you say grabbing his hand drawing circles trying to calm him, but it didn’t. It made him even more red and made his heart beat so fast he thought it was going to come out of his chest.

And sometime along the way, you had begun to fall for him too.

* * *

Breaking you out of your day dream you felt a strong grip on your shoulder, you grabbed the intruders hand and twisting your body as fast you could ready to attack.

You lowered your hard after seeing your crush.

“Not bad, Y/n” he showed you the bag of food he was holding “you’ve improved I’m impressed” Tamaki said pressing his hand on your lower back pushing you towards the front door of your apartment complex.

Oh yeah you had also started to take self defense lessons from Tamaki once he found out about your bluff about knowing how to fight. From that day he took it upon himself to teach you how to defend yourself in case you were abducted by another Yakuza.

“Didn’t you have a meeting today with the Kyoto group?” you opened the door to your small apartment where you guys would often hang out “how did it go” you asked taking off your shoes.

“It was alright i guess, they wanted to make a deal” he spoke calmly and went to set the table for the two of you. You hummed at his answer without further questioning him because nothing good ever comes with dealing with the Mafia.

The two of you silently enjoyed the Takoyaki brought by Tamaki.

“Can you pass me a napkin?” you observed as he manifested a tentacle thanks to his quirk and handed you a napkin.

“Hey Tama” you rested your chopstsicks on your place, resting your head on your palm looking at him as he was midway of putting an octopus ball into his mouth, he hummed in response telling you to continue.

“With your quirk you can manifest everything you eat right?” nodding he put another ball into his mouth “so can you…” you wiggled in your seat regretting what you were about to ask, but you needed an answer it was a question that kept you up during many sleepless nights.

Confused at your sudden shyness he lifted an eyebrow at you, this was very out of character for you since you were usually pretty blunt “c-can you make your semen taste like chocolate?”

Tamaki choked on his food, spitting it out looking at you with a horrified face, you scoot closer to him waiting for his answer. Unable to look at you in the eyes he raised his head looking at the ceiling rubbing his hands on his face trying to calm the rush of heat he was feeling. “Taaaammmakii” you whined, tugging on his arm like a child begging him to answer you, he looked at you opening his mouth but then closing it going beet red.

“Ohhh did you do it” you giggled as he blushed even harder and hid his face in his hands and you laughed harder.

* * *

“what are we watching tonight?” Tamaki walked into your living dressed in gray sweatpants and a black shirt sitting on your sofa, poking you with his left foot.

It wasn’t often that you got to see Tamaki dress so casually due to his job most of the time he would wear expensive suits (which made him look very hot) but there was something about him dressing down that made your heart flutter.

It was nights like these you loved the most, nights when you do nothing but stay up all night watching movies still you passed out cuddling against Tamaki.

“hmm I don’t know” pouting as you looked through your nail polish wondering which color you should paint them next. Tamaki smiled and pointed towards the purple bottle.

“Then how about” he scanned through the list of shows and movies “this” he said finally stopping at Avatar the last air bender.

While one would expect Tamaki’s attention to be at the screen in front of him watching the show he picked out it wasn’t. He was much more interested watching you paint your nails. He watched as you stuck your tongue out while concentrating on not to make a mess.

She’s so cute

“didn’t you go for lunch with your friends today?” He asked his eyes glued to the tv, mouth slightly agape.

“oh yeah I did, it was fun” he hummed and laughed at something Soka said. “My friends kept asking me if we’re together yet” you laughed at the memory of your friends teasing to finally confess your feelings for the man.

“then why don’t we” not paying attention to what he was saying he continued to watch tv.

Wide eyed he looked at you when it finally hit him you looked back at him in shock from the sudden confession“i ..i mean if you want you haha” he panicked.

Grinning as you got up from your spot on the floor you climbed onto his lap. Tamaki’s face burned a deep shade of red as he tried his hardest to sink his head into the couch wanting it to swallow him whole.

“Hey tama look at me” you brought a hand to his cheeks caressing it softly, making him look at you as you leaned onto him giving him a kiss.

“I like you” he breathes out as you pull away from the kiss smiling at each other “will you go out with me?”.

You rest your forehead on his, catching your breath you nod “yes I will” he holds you tighter holding your body next to his never wanting to let you go.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, his lips brushing up against yours, you nod “i'll be mad if you didn't”

He captured your lips in a delicate kiss. The kiss slowly escalated, becoming more rough as he pushed his tongue in your mouth. His wet muscle exploring every nook of your mouth as you submit to him, soft moans erupt from your throat as he grabs your boob giving it a squeeze.

“Oh fuck” he moans grabbing your hips pressing it harder on his crotch as you continued to grind against him.

“Someone’s excited” you smirk against his neck making it, as you grab his clothed dick gasping at size. He was big.

Stopping your movements, he stared into your eyes softly, his hand coming to caresses your face “ are you okay with this if not we don’t need to go further” he reassured. Smiling, you took his hand and kissed it, “I want it Tamaki, I want you.”

He pulled your shirt over your head throwing somewhere in the room, eyes lingering on the lace white bra. His hand was quick to go back on your breast, squeezing it with such an eagerness that just made you wetter by seconds. Taking off the bra, he grabbed your left tit. Soon, your nipple was engulfed by his mouth, he eagerly sucked it letting the tip of his tongue roll around, making you release another moan as you grab his hair pulling him up attaching his lips with yours.

Tamaki’s tongue was back in you, eyes closed as he enjoyed the warm and sweetness of your mouth. He held your hips, lifting you up heading towards your bedroom.

Amajiki hovered over you, smiling softly, he leaned in sealing lips with yours; peppering your skin with his soft kisses and marking you all the way to your breast. His hand finally finding the soft flesh, he gave it a squeeze as his lips came in contact with your areola, you let a breathy moan as his tongue worked on teasing your erect nipples while his other hand massaged the other in pleasurable manner.

He lifted his head from your chest, leaving a trail of kisses all the way to your aching core. Spreading your thighs open, kissing the soft flesh slowly, he teasingly nips at your inner thigh marking you, ignoring the place you wanted him the most.

You grind your hips in the air, hoping it will get his attention, you whimper as he rubs circles on your clit over your underwear finally feeling some relief, you feel the cold air hit your wet core as he slides it off your legs.

“You’re so wet, bunny” he hummed in approval as he twirled his finger in your wetness, content that he was able to make you feel this good. “I bet you taste good too ” he murmures, his eyes darkening with lust, he props your legs into his wide shoulder.

Unable to wait any longer to taste you, he lowered his face to your folds, the feeling of his mouth on your lips, moaning as you pulled his hair telling him to continue. He moaned into you sending vibration to your core, he squeezed your thighs to signal that he understood, he ran his tongue along your dripping slit and plunged his tongue past you lips and shallowly thrusting it inside until he was lapping up your juices with fervor while you arched your back as you moaned his name “you taste so fucking good, bunny” he moaned as he grinned his hips on the mattrest revealing his arousal.

Addicted to the slight bitter but sweet taste that he continued to eat you with more force.

“Ohhhh fuck fuck fuck” your legs trembled.

He knew you were close, slowly he slipped the first finger in, your walls warm and welcoming clenched his finger as he pumped it in, adding another right after. His mouth finding your clit, sucking the sensitive bud, sending pleasure coursing through your body.

“A-amajiki don’t stop” your toes curl at the sensation of his fingers curling inside you, you breathlessly moan your mind going blank as pleasure takes over. Pulling on his hair as his mouth works on your clit while his fingers work their magic, overwhelmed by the pleasure you felt from your lower stomach tightening, “Amajiki… i'm gonna-” before you can finish your sentence you feel the third finger slid in, you roll your eyes back feeling your walls stretch “Oh god, Tamaki”

Tamaki grinds his hips harder at the sounds coming out of your lips, his rock hard cock twitch in sweatpants “fuck” he groaned into your heat fingers slicked with your juices as he worked them in and out of you and lapped your sweet juices with his tongue “I love when you say my name,”.

“T-tama” you moaned bucking your hips on his face in search of release. Only a few moments later you came hard, with his face between your thighs and into his mouth. Your vision blurred as felt Tamaki continue to eat out even after cuming so hard. “Amajiki” you tried to get out of his grasp telling him that you’re too sensitive, he didn't move. He stayed there till you felt another wave of pleaser hit and you came into his mouth.

You were panting hard, your chest rising and falling as you felt euphoria, you watched Amajiki get up from his position between your thighs, get up to kiss you, you tasted yourself on his lips moaning as you felt his boner poking your inner thigh.

He pulls away from the kiss, whining at the loss of contact eyes following him as he gets off the bed. You watch him as he takes off his sweatpants revealing his black boxers which had a wet patch at the tip of his dick, drooling at the outline of his fat cock you imagined having it in your mouth fucking your troat till you became sore.

You get on your knees and start to crawl to where Tamaki was standing, pulling his briefs down until you were met with his painfully erect cock. Licking your lips you looked at him “can i suck your dick” he grabs your chin giving you a peck on the lips “sure, but not now” he says as he backs you up on the bed, laying you down as he starts to nip at your jaw “i wanna be inside you first” he whispers in your ear.

Tamaki separates your legs with his knee, placing himself between your thighs, stroking his dick as he brushes the head of his cock your wet centre. “Amaji-ah” you feel his tip rub against your entrance, but then backing away with flushed cheeks “baby… do you have any condoms” he rubs the back of his neck. It was moments like these where you would question how this man was a mafia leader.

Wrapping your arms around his neck you pull him on top of you kissing him, “its okay im on the pill” you say kissing his face. He aligned himself with your dripping core, his length sliding against your folds and getting coated by your arousal. You shudder, hearing him grunt as he inserts his tip in, stretching you out. He then thrust his length in you, grunting as he felt your wall squeeze around him, once completely in he stayed still letting you adjust to his size, since he was on the bigger side.

You moaned, biting his shoulder as you felt him stretch out your walls, you felt full. “ oh no baby are you okay?” Tamaki cooed still inside of you as he whipped tears from your face “should we stop? Does it hurt?” It wasn't the first time that he had to pull out because he was too big during sex, as he got ready to pull out, you wrapped your legs around his waist kepping him in place “Tama i-its okay, it doesnt hurt, you’re just big” you kiss his cheeks giving him a okay to move as you grip his shoulders” as he slowly began to move.

“Fuck youre so tight baby, you feel so f-fucking good” he let out a groan thrusting even deeper in you.

“Holy shit, your pussy feels so good” he moans in your mouth, picking up the pace. Your mouth drops open and you watch his brow furrow as he slips deeper into you, and fills you up. He continues to push until he finally bottoms out, he pants out a heavy breath that he's been holding out. Your eyes flutter but you fight to keep them open, and your arms wrap around his torso to grip his back.

“oh god Amajik” you moan, hips moving to match his thrust “feels so good”

“Yeah?” he pants out, moving at a steady pace, and you nod in response.

Admiring how he looks on top you, lips pink and swollen from your kisses parted as soft moans and grunts pass them. His eyes dark, looking at you with insatiable hunger that told you that he was holding back.

“Amajiki harder” you whimper, “fuck me harder.”

He pauses for a second, studying your face to make sure he was hearing this well. His breath stuttered before he let out a shaky breath.Then his hands gripped your hips in a bruising hold and he started snapping his hips as hard as he could into yours.

Your eyes roll back at the force of his hips slapping against yours. His nails dug into your supple skin and it stung but you didn’t bother to care because the feeling of him stroking along your sensitive walls was too overwhelming.

“Fuck baby” he gruffly let’s put “you’re making me feel so good”

Clenching around his words, you feel more of your juices coating him as he fucks you harder into the mattress.

“You like it?” he pants “ is my cock making you feel good, baby”

You nod. You couldn’t speak properly, not with the way his hips seemed to increase their speed and hit you deeper with each thrust.

“Use your words, bunny” he grunts into your ear. He releases your hips in favor of gripping your thighs, pausing to shift onto his knees and have a better handle of you and angle his hips just right. “You love it don’t you? You love it when I fuck you with my cock?”

“Yes” you moan “i love it, i love your cock”

“Your close aren’t you? I can feel the way you keep clenching around my cock,”

“Oh god I’m close tama, don’t stop” you say when the thrust abruptly stops when he pulls out of you, and you whimper in shock and desperation. But he doesn’t allow you a second to question him before he’s gripping your hips and flipping you onto your stomach lifting your ass up. He spanks your ass and you squeal in surprise but it morphs into a moan when he shifts your hips to position himself behind you properly. He’s slipping inside you with ease, and you’re back where you left off.

Trailing a hand from your back, all the way to your head he gripped your hair, pulling your head back to capture lips with his.

His mouth on your neck kissing his way to your ear, nibbling on it before he continued spewing filthy phrases in your ear that had you whining in blinding pleasure.

“You're taking it so well, baby. Now be a good girl and cum on my cock” he pants in your ear.

His hand finds your engorged clit, rubbing vigorously as he snapped his hips faster. Your mouth dropped open but no sounds came out, your voice was gone as you felt the pleasure rapidly increasing and the heat in your tummy growing larger and larger until it finally exploded.

“oh tamaki” you moaned “ fuck, I’m cumming.” You called out his name breathlessly as if it was a mantra as you felt yourself come undone all over him.

Amajiki groaned, fucking you through your orgasm, chasing after his own. After a few deep thrusts he stops and gripping your hips as he feels himself shooting his release in you.

He stays inside for a while and you feel him kiss on your along your spine, whispering soft nothings. He pulls out leaving you feeling empty.

Unable to move your body, you let yourself fall into the mattress resting your head on your pillow.

“Tired” you hear tamaki leaning against the headboard of your bed. He pulls your limp body making you hover over his lap, your back against his chest “but i'm not done with you baby” he bites your shoulder, rubbing the head of his cock on your entrance lubricating it with both of your juices.

“Yeah that’s right watch yourself as I fuck you” he says starring right at you through the mirror. You watched him as he slipped himself inside you with ease.

He held your hips keeping you in place as you watched his length disappear in you with each hard thrust.

“Oh my god” your moan feeling the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot. “Are you gonna cum baby?” Amajiki grunts going faster, you nod grabbing his thighs to help you steady as you start to move your hips to match his pace as you feel your 4th orgasm approach.

“Look at you bouncing on my dick like a good little slut” he growled in your ear, his hands wrapped around your throat choking you “come for me slut” with a couple more thrust both of you came undone.

Breathing heavily as you calmed from your high, you got off his lap and sat beside him leaning on the headboard.

You looked ahead seeing both of your reflections in the mirror; cheeks flushed and swollen lips.

Tamaki turned towards you smiling as he caressed your face leaning for a kiss.

“You're amazing, you know that?” you smiled at him, finding him adorable in his fucked out state.

“So are you,” you said, returning the kiss.

Tamaki gets off the bed and goes to the bathroom to get something to clean both of you up. You manage to keep your eyes open, smiling as you see Tamaki’s naked butt as he leaves the room. Reaching out your hand imagining to squish it.

You close your eyes letting the sleep take you over when you something cold on your inner thighs opening your eyes only to see Tamaki cleaning you off.

You feel the bed dip from Tamaki’s weight, you turn around laying on your back facing your lover. Smiling at him you wrap your arms around him and bury your head in the crook of his neck inhaling his sent mixed with sweat and sex.

“You're gonna be sore tomorrow” he places a kiss on the crown of your head “don't blame me for it though it was you who wanted it” he tries to mimic your moans from earlier. “Shut up” you say playfully slapping his chest he let out a low chuckles holding you tighter ready to let sleep take over.

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insomniamamma · 3 years ago

Text

Late Bloomers: Ezra x F! Reader w/Cee

A/n: Set in the "Liminal" AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's legal guardian after a car accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Set sometime between "Ferris Wheels Are For Old People" and "Surf City Goodness." Reader is Ezra's neighbor. Established relationship (sort of, IDK how to tag what they are). For @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape Writer Wednesday.

Warnings: Not a whole lot. Kissing. Touching. A little spicier than I usually go, which isn't saying whole lot. A little language. Cee, as usual, needs her own warning. Set during the pandemic shut down. Mentions of covid. Also, I feel like 'The Apple' needs it's own warning. I'll link the trailer at the end.

"You sure you don't want to come with us, Birdie?" Cee sits at their scarred kitchen table, her laptop, textbooks and a pile of papers around her. She frowns. "I gotta study," she says, "Ms Stewart is really serious about this quiz. She's not grading on a curve this time." Ezra narrows his eyes. "You have never spent a Saturday night studying in your life," he says. Cee frowns up at him. "You've never been in Ms. Stewart's physics class," says Cee, "She's a hard ass. Anyway, I'm still pulling an 'A' in her class, but I don't want to fuck up my average." "Jesus, Cee," Ezra mutters, and you have to smile. She rolls her eyes. "I know, I know--" "Don't say 'fuck' at school," they say in unison. "They're doing double features all summer," says Cee, "I can miss one. I've seen all these movies anyway." She smirks, "I want to hear what you think of 'The Apple.'" Ezra rummages around for his keys and Cee drops you the most exaggerated wink you've ever seen in your life. "Have fun, guys," she says.

Covid has nuked most of the things you used to do for fun, restaurants and shows, hell, even the libraries are closed. The only business in town that's thriving is the Star-City Drive In. There haven't been any big studio releases in a while, so they've been doing Fright Night Fridays and Sci-Fi Saturdays. Tonight's double feature is Flash Gordon and The Apple. "They've got this weird way of operating the concession stand now," says Ezra, "Cause of the pandemic. You've gotta text them your order and I guess they bring it out to you--" Ezra's gotten pretty good at working his phone one-handed, but you can see the frustration clouding his face. "Let me," you say, loading the menu onto your phone, "Let's get a big popcorn and share it. You okay with the fake butter?" "Of course I'm okay with the fake butter, what kind of monster do you take me for?" "How about candy?" You ask, scrolling through, "It's the usual suspects." "Sno-caps," he says, "How about you?" "I'm thinking Milk Duds," you say. "Now that is an excellent way to lose a filling, Sunshine." "Popcorn and Milk Duds together? Worth the risk," you say and text your order off to the concession stand. It's not quite dark yet, a reel of movie trivia that no one cares about shines ghost pale on the screen. Ez has got the radio tuned to pick up the sound, but there's not much to listen to yet so it's turned down low, background noise with the cicadas and birdsong. The big screen backs up against a farmer's field run wild and a dark stand of trees. "Switch places with me," says Ezra, and gets out of the truck. He comes around to your side and opens the door for you. "Why?" "Indulge me," says Ezra, so you do as he asks and settle in to the driver's side. Ezra's truck has bench seats with vinyl that creaks and cushions that hiss slightly as you move around. There's a tap at the window and you hook your mask over your ears and crank it down, popcorn and candy and you already payed with your phone, but press some rumpled bills into their gloved hands. "Why'd you want to switch places?" You ask around a mouthful of popcorn. "Shhh," says Ezra, "The movie's starting."

Flash Gordon is just as fun as you remember it being, majestic in its absurdity, a big love letter to all the terrible pulp sci-fi movies that came before, the two of you watch and snark and laugh and sing "Aaa-ahhh" whenever someone says Flash's name. We owe it to Queen, you say, and Ezra smiles big the way he does when something's caught him off guard, the way that crinkles his eyes and reveals his dimples, indeed we do. We owe it to Freddie Mercury. At some point his arm finds it's way around your shoulders and you lean into him. "So this is why you wanted to switch spots," you murmur. He raises his prosthetic arm, flickering movie light shining on the double hook at the end. "Can't exactly get handsy with Mr. Claw, now can I?" He grins, "These hooks might be a little chilly." "And pokey," you say, demonstrating with a dig to his ribs. The end credits are rolling. "You ever seen this next movie?" "The Apple?" He says, "No. Some sort of cult-movie thing. Cee made me promise not to IMDB it. She said I should go in with an open mind." "Oh boy," you laugh. "Right? Cee's tastes are all over the place. I suspect this will be either amazing or terrible on a scale that recalibrates our internal gauge of what terrible is." "You know she set us up, right?" "Yeah," says Ezra, "Little Bird fancies herself quite the matchmaker." "She winked at me." Ezra dimples. "Did she now?" "She looked like a cartoon," you laugh, "About as subtle as a ton of bricks." Ezra brays laughter and leans against you, squeezes you closer to him at the same time. He is beautiful when he laughs, all dimples and teeth eyes screwed shut in mirth and you take this opportunity to press a kiss against that tender place on his jaw where his beard refuses to grow. Ezra freezes, you feel his body go rigid against yours, and your first thought is to apologize, to pull back, and then he reaches for you, his broad, calloused palm cradling your face, drawing you to him, presses his lips to yours, a soft, reverent kiss that he does not fully withdraw from, his hand now resting on the nape of your neck, forehead pressed to yours, somehow more intimate than a kiss, this closeness, breathing each others exhalations, leaning against each other. "Cee's not wrong," you say, "We're good together." "We are, aren't we?" He gives your nape a gentle squeeze, and lets you go. The opening titles of The Apple flicker on screen and the music starts up.

"Oh, Ezra, what the fuck did we just watch?" "I don't know if 'watch' is the right word, Sunshine, we did not 'watch' The Apple. The Apple happened to us." "I don't think I've ever understood Stockholm syndrome until now." "I have been assaulted," says Ezra, "My civil rights have been violated." "It's like..." You trail off, "It's like if someone took '1984', 'A Star Is Born' and 'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' and put them in a blender. I'm pretty sure this movie violates the Geneva conventions." Ezra laughs and so do you, leaning in to each other, giggles that become kisses, soft at first, but increasingly hungry, laced with need, your arms twine around his shoulders, his hand lingers at your side, toying with the hem of your shirt. "S'okay, Ez," you say as he nips at your jaw and then your neck, gentle graze of teeth that makes you shiver, "You can touch me." He kisses you deep, his tongue fever-hot against yours, hand sliding up the soft slope of your belly, cupping your breast, and you arch into his touch-- Tap Tap Tap. And there's a bright light shining through the passenger's side window. "Oh shit," says Ezra. You frantically yank your shirt back down, heat creeping up your neck, your cheeks, your earlobes flaming. "Movie's over guys," says the shadowed figure behind the flashlight's glare, "Take it someplace else." You open the door to switch places back with Ezra, the overhead light shows him red faced and horrified. "I'm sorry, I just--" "Get us out of here, Ez."

You stare out into the dark past the window, half-moon shining over fields and trees like a lazy eye. You snort laughter. "What's so funny?" "We got caught," you say, "We got caught necking at the drive-in like a couple of teenagers." "You're laughing because we got caught?" "I'm laughing because I've never made out with anyone at a drive-in, even when I was a teenager, and I'm laughing cause we got caught. After watching that trash-fire of a movie. We got caught making out over the end credits of 'The Apple'. I feel like we deserve some kind of award." You rest your hand on Ezra's leg, can just pick his smile in the dim lights from the dash. Ezra chuckles. "I never made out with anyone at the drive in before tonight either," says Ezra. "Bullshit," you say, and give him a good-natured poke. "It's true," he says, "For one, I didn't have access to a car. I would've had to borrow Ma's car, and there was no way that was ever going to happen. Also, I was not what the girls back then referred to as 'dating material'. Skinny as a rake with a mouthful of braces and an obvious birthmark? I was like a puppy trying to grow into it's ears and feet, a late bloomer if you will." You move your hand higher up along his thigh and give him a squeeze. "Better late than never." "Indeed."

Flash Gordon Trailer

The Apple Trailer

#writer wednesday #ezra x f!reader #ezra prospect x f!reader #ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra and cee

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julyarchives · 4 years ago

Text

Scintilla (M)

Having to deal with the most handsome and cocky nemesis can be fun when that person is Yanan

→ Pairing: Yanan x Female Reader

→ Genre: Smut

→ Words: 2.6K

→ Contains: Smut; Enemies To Lovers; Mafia AU, Semi-public sex.

→ A/n: This was very fun to write and we may have gotten carried away, hence the word count lol. We truly hope you guys enjoy it, we think there’s too little Yanan on our blog so we decided that the next story will also be an Yanan imagine, although the plot will be completely diferent. Good reading!

Check the sequel HERE

You were born into this, but it wasn't like you are involved against your will. Your father is the head of an organization that runs half of the city through technically not legal ways. People call it mafia, you call it a family. You learned from your father how to be a good leader, how to be tough, and to not let anyone step over you. You were ready to make this organization your legacy and nobody could take that from you.

Except for one person.

The other half of the city is taken by a different organization. An enemy. And just like you, someone else wants to make their legacy. His name is Yanan and he is the prodigy you should keep an eye on, the one who threatens everything you stand for.

Yanan and you have been in war since you can remember always racing to be one step ahead of the other. You two wanted different things, had different visions that clashed and were not possible to execute simultaneously. You were mafia but you had your morals, and what his crew does is not what you want for the city, and that's why things never go well if you two are in the same room. Today is one day that you two have to be in the same room. Your dad is meeting with his, the current leaders, to discuss the limits and business, and you two as heirs will be attending.

Sitting on opposite sides of the table, Yanan simply does not stop staring at you. He has this stupid smirk on his face, like he knows all your secrets, presumptuously assuming he has some kind of upper hand. At some point, you two were excused so they would discuss private aspects reserved for them only.

You stood at the door, and he positioned himself by your side, lazily leaning against the wall.

“You know, y/n” Yanan was the first to break the silence between you “coming to these meetings is always so fun.

You rolled your eyes, already anticipating some snarky remark from him.

“Why is that, Yanan?” you said impatiently

“Because one day it will be us there, and I’m pretty sure I can have you on your knees for me.” His smirk grew wider “figuratively, of course”

He winked and your stomach turned.

“Gross.” You simply answered “And as if. I’ll have you destroyed in no time. Your little business will be nothing once I’m in command”

“Cute” he chuckled.

"You know what's cute?", you smirked at him. He hummed in answer. "You, wasting my time to brag about your defeat".

You walked away, leaving a laughing Yanan behind. You had no idea why the banter between you never ceased, you both sounded like teenagers sometimes and he annoyed you to no end but as you took your place at the driver's seat in your car, you smiled without thinking.

All the Yanan situation was forgotten as you arrived at the nightclub. You were supposed to meet a guy there, a date a friend got you swearing the guy was hot enough to forget about some felonies. In the state you were in, all you wanted was to get laid so you agreed. The club was not packed, it was not a full day but still seemed like fun, the music was loud by the dance floor but the bar and the entrance had music low enough to hear people talking. You spotted some familiar faces from your gang and some others from Yanan's, the club being a very middle term and neutral place in town.

The guy spotted you as you spotted Yanan coming back from the bathroom doors and for a second you were confused. The guy was all smiles at you but your eyes seemed too curious about Yanan's posture, you hated seeing him here, he always managed to look extremely hot at the club. Shaking those thoughts away, you turned to the guy, finally giving him your full attention, not before seeing Yanan wink at you. You took a seat by a couch, with the guy close to you. Your friend was somewhat right, the guy was kinda cute, but didn't quite match your tastes but you swore to give him a chance.

An hour later you regretted even leaving home. The guy was such a bore you couldn't stand, his voice was annoying you in a way you never thought possible. His only subjects were his family history and his adventures. Many ridiculous adventures. Not once he asked you about yourself, just speaking nonstop with the cockiest grin ever. Once he tried to touch your thighs but you shook his hand away and ordered your fourth drink.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt", someone said just as you were praying for the first time in your life for a rescue.

Looking up you scoffed. Of course, God sent you Yanan to rescue, like a mean genie that twisted your wish. The asshole was hotter up close and that annoyed you even more. You realized that you truly needed to get laid, more than ever, to even consider Yanan this attractive.

"Y/N. Urgent call, sweetheart. You know, heir business".

The boring dude asked something about heirs but you got up immediately. Business was business and any chance to leave the guy was a chance. You followed Yanan closely to the back doors and sighed in relief when you get fresh air outside. Yanan leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette lazily, he had a very much shit-eating grin and wiggled his eyebrows at you. It all clicked.

"There's no call, is there?", you asked, already leaning on the opposite wall and taking the cigarette pack and lighter from him. He managed a small "no" between his grin as you lit your own cigarette freshly stolen from him.

"Why were you with that idiot?", he asked seriously after some minutes of silence. The alley was well lit enough but seemed cut off from the rush of the club.

"I honestly don't know. A friend set us up but that was such a stupid idea", you laughed at your own misery. You didn't even know why you were being so honest with him. Maybe it was the drinks, maybe the frustration.

"Do you need to get laid that bad, Y/N?", he scoffed, "that idiot tried to get in with our business once. He was so stupid he got arrested a week later picking pockets at a football game".

That made you crack. You laughed hard, thinking of how lame the guy was, your power situation always being your most proud deed. You finished your cigarette and tried to light another but Yanan snatched it from you, pocketing the items before you managed to get one cigarette out.

"Shut up, Yanan", you said, crossing your arms almost like a stubborn child whose toy got snatched.

"I mean it, is that how desperate you are?", he moved his head to the side, analyzing you. Shit. For a second you wondered if all his endless innuendos with you actually meant something that you never read but dismissed it quickly. No way. Yeah, he was hot but he was a cocky annoying enemy and you were just lonely.

"What kind of question is that, Yanan? Are you that interested in my sex life?"

"Yes", his simple answer shocked you, your mouth agape. He smirked. "I almost never see you with someone and always wondered why. I think you're too hot to be that lonely, you know?"

"I never see you with someone either", was your smart comeback and you wanted to kick yourself.

"Who's interested in who's sex life now, Y/N?"

"Shut up, Yanan", you said with no bite, looking away from him.

"Maybe…", he said it like he was architecting a plan, "maybe I am a bit lonely as well. I mean, I get you perfectly, don't I? We have the same position, same problems…", he got close to you in seconds and you didn't even hear it, soon enough he had a finger running along your neck to your scalp, "same needs".

You'd definitely blame the alcohol tomorrow. And the boring guy. But right now you couldn't care less, he was blatantly teasing you and he did make sense. You both had similar life and of course, you two were lonely, in this line of work and life you can't trust anyone. Or almost anyone. That was your resolution as you grabbed him by his leather jacket and pulled him for a bruising kiss. You decided that if anything were to happen, he would not be in charge.

Yanan seemed to be expecting that, you felt him smirk in the kiss and fist your hair quickly. The kiss was hot and you both moved with your bodies, a full fight for dominance. You knew you had the upper hand when you moved your hips to rub against him and felt his semi-hard already, earning a groan. His free hand grabbed your ass with force, not even hiding his intentions, and lucky you had the same ones, you used his hair to guide the kiss, never letting go of his jacket.

Even as you or he needed to pull back to breathe you'd stop, the kissing was replaced by nibs and sucking, you knew both of you would be marked tomorrow and that made you win this as well, leaving many hickeys on his neck and collarbones. You thanked his unique ability to wear loose thin shirts that allowed you to reach downwards on his neck while he fumbled to reach your bra in your tight fit shirt. Saying fuck it to any last reasonable thought, you pulled back entirely and took your shirt off, quickly pulling his jacket away. Yanan got the hint and took his shirt off, going for your bra seconds later, not wasting time and already teasing and sucking on your nipples.

Of course, his mouth would be heaven, you thought. He never stopped talking and teasing you all his life, his mouth always drove you crazy and now you discovered he could get you crazy with his mouth in some other way. His thigh reached your covered core and you shivered, you automatically riding his thigh with want. Yanan grunted out your name, his hold on your ass coming back to help you move with even more force, his dick rubbing on your jeans pants with the movement. It felt like you stayed that way for a long time, you needed more but it was too good to stop, his mouth doing wonders on your neck and boobs, it was leading to a very strong orgasm, you could feel it.

Suddenly he stopped you, getting his thigh out of reach. He laughed at your involuntary whine and leaned over, hands massaging your breasts.

"You seriously think I'm gonna let you cum with my thighs only?", he nibbled your ear, "what kind of asshole do you think I am?"

The wetness in your panties got even damper with his words, your hands already opening your pants. Yanan followed your lead and soon both pants and underwear were by your ankles. But before anything could happen, you put both hands on his chest, feeling his strong body with more calm.

"Don't make me regret this, Yanan. This better be good", you meant to be serious but his cocky smile made the corners of your mouth move upwards without intending to. He whispered your name and gently held your chin, placing a gentle kiss on your lips that got you both gasping softly.

"Can you turn around, please? With the pants where they are, I think it'll be better this way", he asked, too calm for the situation. You hated to agree with him but moved in silence. You placed both hands on the wall and bent over, looking back only to see him watching you with dark eyes. He was stroking himself and fully moaned when you placed your fingers in your entrance to tease him. It was Yanan that yanked your wrist back and even from behind you saw him suck your fingers next to your head.

"You taste so good, Y/N. Maybe next time".

Next time. Was it even going to have the next time? You didn't even have time to think it over before he pushed his dick inside, slowly but surely. You moaned at the feeling, hands turning into fists from how good that was. You could feel he was no better than you, hips spasming to move already even if he was waiting for you to adjust. When you pushed back he held your waist and wasted no time in moving. He got his member almost completely out only thrust in fast and hard again.

Yanan held that rhythm all along and if you had any coherent thought in your head, you'd praise his physical strength and stamina. But you didn't. He was giving it to you and it felt like magic, he knew how to move and where to move exactly as you needed him to without you having to guide him. He was hitting your g spot dead on and it took all of you to not scream his name over and over in the small alley. His expert fingers moved to your clit and rubbed it deliciously, making you writhe against him.

"Keep that up and I'll come too soon, I'm so close", you said, already clenching at how he was touching you.

"I'm close, Y/N. Shit, come with me", he breathed it out against your ear.

You'd deny it forever but his pleading voice did the trick. You came with a cry you couldn't hold back. Vaguely you heard Yanan curse at how you clenched around him and you felt him release. You two moved until both came back from the high, now the silence was coming back but you were too tired to care.

He stepped out and got his clothes back on first and followed, tired hands retrieving pieces of clothing from the ground. You heard him chuckle, looking at nothing specifically and you somewhat understood. You laughed quietly and you exchanged a look.

"So, Y/N, any regrets?", there he went. The same old annoying bastard.

"Shut up, Yanan", you laughed, throwing his jacket at him.

"I will start to collect streets from your domain every time you tell me to shut up, by the end of a year you'll have no more power, Y/N", you both laughed out loud and you shook your head.

"What do you wanna do now?", you said, reaching for his cigarettes in his pocket.

He only raised an eyebrow at you and extended his hand to collect his items after you used them. With both cigarettes lit and smoke clouding the air a little, he huffed.

"I'd invite you over to my place for more and just for tonight, I'd pretend we're allies and not enemies. I truly think we are similar, Y/N", Yanan was not looking at you.

"Alright. Lead the way, Mr. I'm-just-like-you", you mocked him with a very bad imitation of chis voice and you laughed at both your joke and his shocked face.

"May I hold your hand, m'lady?", it was his turn to mock your voice, a quick recovery from his shock.

"Don't push your luck, sweetheart". You used the same nickname he used with you earlier and he laughed, walking back into the club without saying a word and without looking back.

You threw your cigarette butt on the ground and stepped on it, shaking your head. Tomorrow you'd deal with all the consequences but tonight you were willing to let this good sparkle inside your belly make decisions for you. Just tonight.

#ksmutclub #pentagon smut #yanan #yanan smut #yanan x reader #yanan x female reader #pentagon yanan #pentagon #kpop pentagon #pentagon imagine #pentagon fanfic #pentagon scenario #kpop imagine #kpop scenario #kpop fanfic #mafia au #enemies to lovers #yanan enemies to lovers #yanan mafia au

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! So, something that always intrigued me is the concept of “reverse aus,” and I’ve been thinking about that in the context of Cobra Kai for a while now. How do you think it would go down if Demetri was the one to get roped into Cobra Kai? Obviously, I don’t think he would be as into as Eli canonically was (probably due to it becoming a special interest for him), but I’d be curious to hear your take on it. Would Eli end up going to Miyagi-Do like canon Demetri did, or would Demetri and Eli sort of become the new Evil Karate Husbands™️? And possibly, how do you think Demetri and Johnny’s dynamic would go? (I’m just going to awkwardly add that this is cc-tinslebee, coming to you live from my main blog because I don’t think Tumblr let’s sideblogs send asks-)

So this is actually the SECOND ask I’ve gotten about this scenario--Cherry sent in another one!--so I figured I’d give it a stab. Took me a while to work out how I think it would go and how everything would play out different if Demetri and Eli’s roles were reversed, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out. I tried to make it more interesting than just “Demetri does all the stuff Eli does and Eli does all the stuff Demetri does.”

Also I lowkey LOVE the idea of Evil Karate Husbands and even though that isn’t the direction this particular AU goes in, I might do a divergent spin-off AU to explore that too??? Because man...the thought of Miguel desperately trying to save his two best friends who have fallen to the dark side...*cries*

Fair warning that this AU is gonna get dark as shit--I fully belive things would’ve gotten equally fucked up between them in a role reverse AU, just, ah...in slightly different ways. A lot of this will not be Happy Times later on, much like their canon relationship XD

OKAY TIME FOR PAIN, LET’S GOOOO

Longboi post so be warned!!!

Season 1

After getting his ass handed to him--for trying to stick up for Eli, no less--Demetri was pissed. Why the hell was he paying some guy to beat him up for daining to have a problem with him bullying his best friend? Going home in a rage, he nearly texted Miguel to tell him he was quitting--but something stopped him just before he hit Send.

He remembered the look on Eli’s face just after Kyler shoved him away. He remembered seeing Eli stiffen when Kyler grabbed him by the chin, practically feeling the terror emanate from his friend’s body. He remembered how completely and infuriatingly helpless he felt.

It certainly wasn’t the first time something like that had happened. But maybe if Miguel was onto something--maybe if karate really could protect him and Eli from the bullies--it could be the last.

Mr. Lawrence (or Sensei Lawrence, as he obnoxiously insisted on being called) hardly let up on bullying Eli. Even at Eli’s request not to call him “Lip” and the pleading of his star student Miguel Diaz himself, the man only seemed to crack down harder--in some sort of twisted effort to “toughen Eli up,” Demetri guessed. Demetri defended Eli every single time, not mincing any words mouthing off at Sensei Lawrence. It got Demetri punched in the face, flipped on the mat, saddled with much harder drills than the rest of the class, but he didn’t give a shit. He wasn’t about to let anyone treat Eli like that, no matter what pain he had to endure for it.

Johnny, meanwhile, is immensely annoyed by this obnoxious, sarcastic kid who just can’t stop running his mouth--but working him twice as hard as the rest of the class is proving to be fruitless in shutting him up. But, Johnny’s finding, Demetri constantly antagonizing him doesn’t have to be a hindrance. Anger like that can be weaponized--the more he provokes Demetri, the more he insults and belittles that Eli kid he’s so attached to, the harder Demetri punches. The quicker he moves when he fights. The stronger he kicks. Johnny sometimes comes home after training covered in nasty bruises, almost entirely from sparring Demetri--they’re enough to make Carmen and Rosa Diaz worry he’s getting jumped on the way home.

One day Johnny takes his ribbing of Eli just a little too far, hoping to get an especially vicious reaction out of Demetri. Eli, pushed to the end of his rope, runs out of the dojo, barely holding back tears. Demetri starts to go after him, but Miguel puts a hand on his arm and stops him, saying they can both check up on him later.

When Demetri finds Eli after practice, Eli’s sobbing. “I can’t do this anymore, Deme. No matter what you say to him, he just keeps picking on me. It never stops.” Demetri winces, because Eli isn’t wrong--Sensei Lawrence really hasn’t stopped bullying Eli at all, and while Demetri was busy letting himself get riled up by it, he didn’t actually think to see how it was affecting Eli. “Well, I know it sucks now, and Mr. Lawrence is a huge asshole, but we’re learning to be tough,” Demetri reasons. “We’re learning to be intimidating. A few more months here, and the bullies will never touch us again! Just like Miguel!” And Eli just scowls, uncharacteristically angry for his timid self, and says “Well, it’s not worth it if I have to feel like shit the whole time! If every time I step in here I get everything about me picked apart, over and over again! I’m done with this, Demetri.”

And just like that, Eli is out of the dojo. Demetri can’t help but be disappointed--he’d looked forward to them training together, and seeing Eli become a badass, fearless fighter who could hand Kyler’s ass to him after all those fucked up things he said to Eli. And to make matters worse, Sensei Lawrence doesn’t stop using Eli as fuel to rip out Demetri’s rage long after Eli’s gone. “Oooh, Loudmouth, feeling sad today? Missing Lip the Quitter?” “You keep throwing punches like that, and you could get beat up by that loser with the fucked lip you were so enamored with. Although knowing you, you’d let him win anyways.” And Demetri can’t help but hate the man, but damn, if it doesn’t feel good to land an especially good hit on him, or jab him in the thigh with a powerful kick.

But things aren’t bad--Demetri still has Miguel, and their new friend Aisha. Eli still hangs out with them outside of practice, and indulges Demetri in his ever-increasing ramblings about martial arts, no matter how nervous and uncomfortable karate tends to make Eli. If Demetri likes it that much, maybe he should make an effort to show interest in it. The four of them crash Yasmine’s birthday party, and Demetri even finds himself smooth-talking them into getting alcohol with his newfound confidence. After all, if he can land punches faster than a snake can strike, how difficult can it be to weasel his way into getting a little beer?

Meanwhile Moon, feeling understandably unfulfilled in her popular clique, takes an interest in the Cool New Karate Gang in town, and after apologizing to Aisha at the beach rager, the two strike up a friendship. She comes to hang out with their group more and more, and Eli finds her surprisingly easy to talk to. Moon constantly makes an effort to include him when the others get to wrapped up talking about karate, and he appreciates her kindness and sincerity. It’s odd, really, how easy it is to have a conversation with her, considering how nervous he tends to get around her. But Eli doesn’t think too much about it.

When it comes time for the tournament, Moon and Eli go together to support their friends. Eli finds his gaze flickering back and forth between Moon and Demetri, lingering on each of them longer than he would care to admit--and he can’t quite explain why. Something about Moon’s wide, excited smile, the smell of cherry shampoo in her hair...but also Demetri’s smug, triumphant smirk when he pulls off an especially impressive move, the way his wiry arm muscles ripple when he fights. They’re both just so...captivating.

Demetri, for his part, is ruthless. Much more so than Eli has ever seen him be. He’s always been sarcastic and cynical, but resigned to his fate--at the tournament, Demetri lashes out in vicious ways the old Demetri would never have had the courage to pull off. He talks shit to the other contestants far beyond what’s considered “sportsmanlike”--and Eli can tell he’s not holding back, with the theatrical body language channeling every awful thing he’s saying.

Demetri fights like lightning--he weaves and maneuvers and strikes at breakneck speed, a limber, flashing form hitting all across his opponent’s bodies before they have any idea what’s happening. He dodges hits and jumps aside like he has some cosmic sense of when and where they’re coming. And it scares Eli, seeing a viciousness and relentlessness in Demetri that he’s never encountered before--but somehow, he finds, he just can’t look away.

Season 2

After the tournament, Demetri’s life has never been better. At the summer’s start, he’s still riding the high of the Cobra Kai tournament win. He didn’t take home the trophy, but suffice to say he got much farther than anyone believed a scrawny, lanky nerd ever would, and he is incredibly smug about it. He realizes, at the end of the day, he’s gotten what he always wanted after all--the bullies don’t come near him and Eli at all, and he can rest easy, knowing Eli is finally safe. However, he’s so busy embracing his new skills that at times, he almost forgets that was ever even an issue. His newfound fighting prowess has caught the attention of Yasmine, of all people--maybe someone who can throw kicks that good isn’t as much of a loser as she originally thought.

She finds out after her family’s plans to go to France for the summer fall through, and she finally patches things up with Moon after their fallout at the beach party. Moon can’t stop gushing about how amazing Demetri was at the tournament--both she and her new friend Eli (who Yasmine definitely thinks seems like a weirdo, but hey--maybe if Moon thinks he’s worth her time, he can’t be that much of a loser) were so impressed with him. Interest piqued, Yasmine joins their little but ever-growing group. She finds herself quickly drawn in by Demetri’s ever-growing confidence, intelligence, and surprisingly enjoyable (if somewhat annoying) sense of humor, and before long, the two are dating.

Yasmine and Aisha are...cool. Kind of. Yasmine doesn’t quite apologize, and the two aren’t friends by any stretch of imagination, but they tolerate each other, and Yasmine refrains from making awful comments and picking on Aisha in front of their friends. Aisha, for her part, does her best not to lash out or be mean to Yasmine either, keeping the peace mainly for Demetri’s and Moon’s sakes.

Meanwhile, it would take an idiot not to notice the rather starstruck looks Eli’s been shooting in Moon’s direction. Moon, for her part, is either entirely oblivious or simply doesn’t even think to consider a shy, timid, nerdy kid as a romantic option, even if she does consider him a friend.

Oddly, Demetri finds himself extremely bothered by Eli’s doe-eyed crush on Moon. He really can’t place why--he has a girlfriend already, so it really shouldn’t bug him so much that Eli is finally growing noticably interested in girls too, now that they tend to be in closer proximity. And it’s not even like Moon seems to be at all interested in reciprocating. Maybe, he figures, it’s the fact that Moon never would have even looked their way if it weren’t for the fact that he and Miguel and Aisha were the “Cool Karate Gang.” The same karate gang, of course, that Eli quit. That Eli didn’t have it in him to fully be a part of. And yet here he is, reaping the benefits still.

Interestingly, Yasmine also seems bothered by Eli’s affections for her friend. Demetri feels her stiffen beside him and sees her shooting disapproving looks whenever she catches Eli staring at Moon. Demetri isn’t sure why she seems to take issue with this too--perhaps she thinks Moon is too good for Eli, and her friend deserves better than a shy, awkward nerd.

Something about this mindset very much rubs Demetri the wrong way, but he pushes the feeling aside. Maybe he should count his blessings instead of being so inwardly critical of his girlfriend. After all, not everyone gets to date the hottest girl in school.

The day of Valley Fest arrives, and Yasmine goes to support her boyfriend. Moon and Eli tag along, eager to support their friends as well. Caught up in the thrill of the blaring music, the bright, flashing lights, the audience cheering, Demetri feels a wave of pride as he looks at his little group of friends that came for him, yelling and whooping and jumping up and down. For some reason, he finds his gaze drawn specifically to Eli, wearing a grin bigger than Demetri’s seen in months and eyes absolutely glowing.

Suddenly Demetri feels an overpowering urge to wrap Eli up in this world he’s fallen in love with, immerse him entirely in the karate that’s made Demetri feel so much more happy and free in the past several months. Grinning, he strides forward and reaches down, using the absurd upper body strength he’s built up since he’s started karate to yank Eli up onto the stage. He hands his best friend a wooden board and steps back, racing forward and snapping it in half with a jumping roundhouse kick. For a few seconds, Eli can do nothing but stare at the broken board, something shifting inside of him.

After that, Eli decides maybe it’s time to give karate another go. Something about the way Demetri positively shone onstage--how genuinely happy all of it seemed to make him--makes him thing it can’t be so bad, even if he does get taunted for his lip again.

He stops by the dojo the following week, gathering up every ounce of courage he has to ask that mean blonde man how he goes about joining the dojo again. He’s hoping against hope that maybe, after all these months of teaching students and a tournament win under his belt, the edge of his pathetic cruelty will at least have been taken off.

No such luck. Upon seeing Eli walk into the dojo, Johnny greets him with “Hey, Lip is back! Real world not treat you as nicely as you thought?” The two are, regrettably, completely alone in the dojo. Eli sucks in his breath--Demetri isn’t around, so if anyone is going to defend him, it’ll have to be him himself.

“Could you please not call me that?” His voice shakes as he says it, but nonetheless, he finishes the statement. It occurs to him that not once in his (admittedly brief) stay in Cobra Kai did he simply...request that Sensei Lawrence not call him Lip. Demetri’s approach was always to get angry about it, go off on the sensei about how wrong it was to mock someone’s appearance, but Eli himself had never been the one to make a case for Sensei Lawrence to treat him better.

It hardly helped. Sensei Lawrence just claimed that if he didn’t want him to call him Lip, he shouldn’t have a freaky lip, and then went on to claim whoever did his cleft lip surgery must have done an awful job. Eli attempted to move away from the topic, but Sensei Lawrence didn’t let up. “It’s hard to when it’s right in front of me. Hard to believe Demetri was so willing to defend you like some knight in shining armor or some shit. You’re pathetic.” Having heard enough, Eli storms out, anger overtaking him. How could he have been so stupid, to think this was going to go any better? Why did he think that just because this man had been willing to help Miguel and Demetri (who were normal) become badass meant he would extend the same treatment to the freak with the lip scar?

Eli calls Demetri in tears. “I don’t know how you can train with someone like him,” Eli spits out. “He’s a shit person, Demetri. I--I don’t know what you and Miguel are thinking. It’s like he gets some kind of...I don’t know, sadistic pleasure out of bullying people. He’s not any better than the people he claims he’s trying to help you fight.”

Demetri, to his horror, reacts only with scorn, scoffing and rolling his eyes. “God, all this drama because he was mean about your lip again? Jesus christ, grow a backbone, Eli. I hate to say it, but I think Mr. Lawrence was right--if you can’t even handle someone making some insensitive comments about your scar, how are you going to handle an elbow to the teeth? Or any training more intensive than a slap on the wrist, anyway?”

Eli can do nothing but just stare at him through the screen. Demetri, the one person who he has always been able to count on to not comment on his scar, the one person who has always comforted him or talked him through it when he cried, is brushing him completely off--being an asshole about the one thing Eli was certain he never would be. Why is Demetri, of all people, not taking his side on this?

All Eli knows for sure is that he doesn’t like this new version of Demetri one bit. What happened to the best friend who was always willing to fight for him, no matter what it took? Now, he seems more concerned with looking cool and tough and upkeeping some kind of ridiculous reputation than Eli’s own well-being.

Over the next few days, a rage he didn’t know he even had in him bubbles up inside Eli. He decides if Demetri’s going to play dirty, so is he. And maybe, if Eli plays his cards right, the old Demetri will come back.

Despite his long-standing frustration with the way adults treat him--delicately, condescendingly, like a Thing of Pity--Eli figures he can get some use out of it for once. If this is the only way they’re going to see him regardless, he might as well use it to his advantage. And so he goes crying to his mom, who he knows for a fact other adults talk about being a “valued member of the community” and probably has some influence and some strings she can pull. He bawls to her about how his best friend has turned into an unrecognizable jerk, all because he’s training with a middle-aged man with the mindset of a high school bully who has no issue verbally abusing his students. Sure enough, discussions are had with the Neighborhood Committee, phone calls are placed, and Eli overhears his mother vowing to shut down that degenerate karate place if it’s the last thing she ever does.

Meanwhile, back at the dojo, Kreese makes an announcement. The elderly, intimidating man has recently teamed up with Johnny to teach--and he gives Demetri the creeps, if he’s honest, but he seems to know his stuff when it comes to karate, so Demetri goes along with this new addition to the sensei roster. However, when Johnny goes off to visit his high school friends and leaves the kids alone with the new Sensei, Demetri can’t help but feel uneasy.

“Now, the dojo’s been getting some concerned phone calls,” Kreese says, arms crossed and expression difficult to read. He doesn’t seem to be angry--if anything, he looks faintly amused. “Parents of the local teenagers are worried. They think Cobra Kai is full of bullies. Think our methods are...abusive, even. They want to shut us down.” Worried murmurs start to echo around the room, but Kreese silences them as he goes on. “Oh, don’t worry. It won’t be a problem. I have my ways of talking people down. We know better, anyhow. They’re just...intimidated by us, because we’ve honed skills here they couldn’t even dream of having. But nonetheless...” Kreese smirks in a way that makes Demetri feels ever-so-slightly unnerved. “If you run into one of your little peers whining to your parents about getting rid of us, well...show them Cobra Kai can’t be messed with so easily.”

And suddenly Demetri’s seething, because he knows exactly who made sure those phone calls got made.

Eli, for all his timidness, is notoriously smart. Demetri knows this intimately. He’d hardly put it past Eli to be this cunning, to manipulate the pitying adults around him to get what he wants.

When the Cobra Kai kids take a trip to the mall later that day, Demetri knows exactly where Eli will be. Every Wednesday, a new issue of Dungeon Lord comes out--they used to go get it together, but since getting into karate, Demetri hasn’t been keeping up. Demetri would figure someone like Eli wouldn’t have the balls to go out in public alone, if not for the fact that he knew how invested Eli was in the current plot.

And so Demetri heads to the comic book store, a group of reluctant Cobra Kai “pledges” in tow. Maybe it’s a bit sadistic, but he likes having someone to be able to boss around--it feels nice to be at the top of the food chain for once. Lord knows it’s the first time that’s happened. And if he isn’t going to milk that tournament win for all it’s worth, then what even is the point?

When Demetri arrives, Eli turns to look at him in confusion. “What are you doing here?” he says, lip curling slightly. “I figured you were too tough for this kind of stuff now.”

Demetri just scoffs and crosses his arms. “Well, Mr. Kreese said the dojo’s been getting some calls from weepy parents concerned we’re bullying their poor kids. Saying our Senseis must be some evil, abusive monsters twisting and corrupting the neighborhood teenagers. So I think you know exactly why I’m here.”

Eli just looks at him with a doe-eyed innocence that makes his blood boil. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Demetri advances on him, eyes flashing. “Don’t bullshit me, Eli. I know you’ve been meddling.”

To his surprise, Eli looks up to meet his gaze evenly, pretense of naiveté completely gone. “And what if I have? I don’t like the influence they’re having on you.”

Well, Demetri doesn’t know what that’s supposed to mean, but he doesn’t like it. “What is it about Cobra Kai that’s got you in such a tiffy, huh? You’re jealous I found a way to fight back and actually protect us? You don’t like that I’m not a pathetic loser you can look down your nose at anymore?”

Eli just looks at him in bewilderment. “Jesus, no, that’s not it at all, dude. Just...do you even hear yourself? You’ve turned into such an asshole since you started all that karate shit. It’s like I don’t even know you anymore. You walk around thinking you’re hot shit and everyone has to bow down to you all because your dojo won some stupid tournament. Well, news flash, Demetri--nobody cares.”

The callous way Eli, of all people, says it can’t help but throw him off. Is that really what his best friend thinks about him now--that he’s just some arrogant prick strutting around flaunting his success?

And then Demetri remembers how he got here--what it was that pushed him to be such a hard-assed fighter in the first place--and he feels a wave of venom coarse through him so powerful that he nearly chokes on it. Before he knows it he’s grabbing Eli by the shoulders and shoving him up against the wall.

“You fucking ungrateful brat,” he spits out, his words poison. “I did it all for you, you know. Everything I did was so that I could finally protect you. And this is how you thank me? After I’ve been getting my ass kicked over and over again so you wouldn’t have to worry about bullies anymore?”

Eli is surprisingly unfazed. “And where was I when you were learning to be such a good protector, Demetri? Getting shit on as a tool to motivate you? Nobody bothering to check how I felt about that? A real good bodyguard you turned out to be.”

“And yet Kyler and his little posse haven’t bothered you once. Who do you think that’s thanks to?”

“Miguel too. You don’t get all the credit. And anyhow, not like it matters when your Senseis would just as soon take the same cheap shots.”

Demetri just curls his lip. “Don’t get mad at me because you were too weak to survive Cobra Kai. Because...what, a middle-aged karate teacher hurt your feelings? I’d like to see how you go about taking a real fist to the jaw.”

Demetri raises a fist as if to demonstrate. Eli flinches, anger and defiance suddenly completely gone as his eyes widen in horror.

“You’d actually hurt me?” he asks softly.

Demetri slowly lowers his fist, realizing the answer as soon as he sees the terrified look in his friend’s eyes.

“Consider this your warning, Eli,” he spits out, with as much venom as he can manage. “Don’t mess around with Cobra Kai, or things are going to get ugly.” He smirks--a little sadistically, he has to admit. “You saw the tournament. Well...you’d better believe that’s the least of what I can do.”

When a downtrodden Eli shows up at Daniel LaRusso’s front door, timidly requesting to learn karate, far be it from Daniel to turn away a new student. Eli’s sob story about how he’s being bullied and threatened by his best friend only makes the new sensei more determined to take him under his wing--Daniel is no stranger to bullying, after all.

The next time Cobra Kai goes on an outing to the mall, Demetri catches Eli in the food court, eating with Samantha LaRusso and that kid whose ass he kicked at the tournament--Robby Keene, was his name? Mr. Lawrence’s kid. This seems...odd. How would Eli have met them?

An unexpected wave of jealousy rips through him. How did shy little Eli manage to make other friends? Let alone with an ex popular girl, of all people. Nonetheless, he figures this might be a good time to make sure his ex-friend isn’t trying to start any more shit with Cobra Kai.

He catches Eli in the deli line, sliding up behind him and purring, “Oh, I hope you haven’t been poking your nose where it doesn’t belong, have you, Eli?”

Eli turns and glares at him with a venom Demetri didn’t know the other boy had in him. “Why, Demetri? Scared your precious Cobra Kai is going to lose all its coolness cred if it gets out how shitty you all are?”

Demetri seethes with anger again, and before he knows it, he’s shoving Eli out of the line and ramming him up against one of the pillars on the edge of the food court. The crowd of eaters around them “Oooooh”s, but Demetri ignores them. He raises a fist again, fully prepared to follow through this time. “I’d watch your mouth, if I were you.”

Eli just curls his lip, more defiant than Demetri’s ever seen him. “You don’t scare me, Demetri. I know who you really are.”

The Cobra Kai pledges start to loom behind them, ready to provide Demetri with backup if needed. Eli notices and scoffs. “Wow, siccing your goons on me too? Way to set up a fair fight, Demetri. You’re so badass.”

Struck by a sudden desire to prove him wrong, Demetri socks Eli in the jaw before he can think better of it. He pauses afterwards, momentarily shaken by what he’s done.

To his dismay, Eli’s horrified shock is short lived before he laughs darkly. “Well, you’re not the only one who knows karate now. I joined Miyagi-Do.”

Demetri just scoffs. Ah yes, a little karate training and Eli, of all people, is going to kick some major ass. “All right then. Let’s see what you got.” He takes a step back, allowing Eli to try and get a hit in.

When the fight breaks out in full force, it’s vicious. Eli throws the first hit, but it’s weak--he’s out of practice since abandoning Cobra Kai. Demetri has him on the ground in seconds, throwing punches and kicks with a speed and rage he had no idea he had. Eli barely has time to get up before he’s getting his ass handed to him.

What Demetri doesn’t count on is Eli’s new dojomates coming to his rescue, getting the smaller boy behind them and executing a near-perfect synchronized fighting routine. Even with his lackeys helping him, Demetri is completely annihilated--nearly unconscious on the food court floor within minutes. The last thing he sees before he passes out is Eli staring down at him, blue eyes wide with horror.

When word of the incident at the mall gets back to Moon, shit hits the fan--to put it lightly. Yasmine is with Moon when she confronts Demetri, but she doesn’t say anything--just stands glaring with her arms crossed while Moon goes off at him. “How could you treat Eli like that? He’s your friend!”

“Not anymore.” Demetri curls his lip. “He joined Miyagi-Do. He’s made it pretty clear where his loyalties lie now, and it’s not with me.”

“Who cares about Miyagi-Do?” She retorts. “He’s still your friend! Our friend! And I don’t like the way you’re bullying him.”

Demetri scoffs. “Don’t you get it? He’s just a pathetic nerd who can’t handle the fact that I’m cooler than him now. All he wants to do is drag me down to his level again, I guarantee it.”

Moon’s gaze is more poisonous than he’s ever seen it. She turns to Yasmine. “Tell him, Yas,” she says, her tone dangerously quiet.

Yasmine sighs. She says--with notable hesitation, Demetri notices--“If you don’t stop bullying Eli, we’re through.”

Thrown off, Demetri laughs harshly. “What do you care? You don’t even like Eli! I see those...disgusted looks you shoot in his direction, when you think we won’t notice.”

Yasmine bites her lip. “That doesn’t matter. Moon is my best friend. If she’s not okay with this whole...thing, then neither am I.”

“You’re not fucking serious. You’re dumping me because your bleeding-hearted friend told you I wasn’t being nice enough to a guy you can’t stand?”

Yasmine pauses, but ultimately stands her ground. “I’m sorry, but if it’s between you and Moon, it’s going to be Moon. So her word goes. So either stop with this whole stupid feud with Eli, or we’re finished.”

“I...” Demetri can only stare at her, shocked. He never could have imagined getting this ultimatum...and yet here he is.

He must have hesitated a second too long, because Moon grabs Yasmine’s arm and starts to pull her away. “I think that’s all the answer we need,” Moon hisses.

“Wait!” he called helplessly after them. Yasmine turns around once as she walks away, but only to spit “It’s over!” over her shoulder. As if for good measure.

Kreese finds Demetri circling a punching bag in the back of the dojo, spinning around it and throwing kicks and punches faster than cobra strikes. Seizing his opportunity, he advances. “What’s wrong, son?”

Demetri turns, tensing. He’s still wary of the man, but to hell with it--it’s not like he has anyone else to talk to. “Fight broke out with Miyagi-Do, and we lost. Pathetic, I know. Please don’t rub it in.”

“Cheer up.” Kreese smirks. “The fight isn’t over until you say it is.”

Demetri just sighs. “No use going in for a rematch. They’re strong. I couldn’t take them again on my own.”

Kreese’s smirk widens. “You’re a smart kid. There are other ways to fight back, you know. You don’t always have to beat them into the ground.”

As he leaves, Demetri lets that sink in.

Well, Demetri is nothing if not tech-savvy. May as well make some use of that Yelp Elite status. He spends hours setting up dozens of sock puppet accounts, programming them to post terrible review after terrible review blasting everything he can think of about Miyagi-Do. The encouragement of violence in youth (Eli had technically punched first, hadn’t he?). The weak, subpar fighting style that broke down as soon as it was challenged by serious fighters. The pretentious, culture-appropriating sensei. Daniel LaRacist indeed.

During the Coyote Creek excursion, Demetri finds himself pitted against Miguel, fighting in the world’s most intense game of what essentially boils down to Capture the Flag. Demetri, about to get the better of Miguel, finds that he can’t help but gloat about his little online attack. Can’t be long before a one-star dojo goes out of business.

When Miguel seems to take issue with it, saying the whole thing is mean-spirited and over the top, Demetri can’t help but scoff. Miyagi-Do has been plenty clear in declaring war--their little battalion at the mall proved that. Demetri wishes Miguel wasn’t still too caught up in pining over Sam LaRusso to realize that.

Miguel, meanwhile, decides this dojo war of sorts is getting out of hand. It turns out Demetri isn’t the only tech-savvy student in Cobra Kai--Miguel designed their website, after all. With a little bit of basic internet coding and some rudimentary hacking, he manages to access the sock puppet accounts Demetri made and take the bad reviews down. He even goes so far as to go over to the Miyagi-Do dojo and personally apologize for how Cobra Kai has been acting, telling Robby Keene that he found out who blasted the bad reviews and took them all down. “We’re not all assholes.”

Come Moon’s end-of-summer party, Demetri is surprised to get an invitation. He hasn’t seen her or Yasmine since they both chewed him out, and Yasmine ended things. But perhaps this is a show of good faith. Maybe Moon wants to be friends again--and maybe that means Yasmine’s come to her senses too, and might be willing to talk things out.

Moon welcomes him when he arrives, previous animosity gone for the moment. “Hey, thank you for inviting me. I’m...sorry,” he starts. “Of how we left things off. I was an ass to you and Yas.” “It’s alright,” Moon replies cheerily. “I invited you because...well, I’m hoping that before school starts, we can stop all the fighting and be friends again.”

His heart sinks as he sees Sam LaRusso lead a stream of kids through the door, Eli trailing at the end, and he realizes exactly what she means. The Miyagi-Dos are here.

He sits forlornly on a couch with Mitch and Aisha, thinking about how much worse this night just got. He brightens, however, when he sees a shock of blonde hair at the door not long after. So Yasmine came after all.

Moon grins in delight, calling over to her. Taking a breath, Demetri stands up and approaches the two girls, determined to smooth things over with them both.

He’s not surprised to see Yasmine make a beeline for Moon, not noticing him for the moment. What he isn’t expecting is for Moon to sweep Yasmine into her arms, kissing her full on the mouth.

Demetri stops in his tracks. The girls turn to him a few seconds later, seeming to notice him for the first time. They look at him expectantly, as though waiting for him to finish walking over to them. Or say something, and not just stand there gawking stupidly.

“Uh...are you two...um...like...uh...” All he can do is shuffle closer and gesture abstractly, not able to find words. Yasmine blushes and looks away, while Moon tucks a hair behind her ear, her smile strained.

“Yeah. It’s new,” she admits, laughing nervously. “We’re, um...”

“Girlfriends?” Yasmine offers, looking up and smiling at Moon with uncharacteristic shyness. Demetri can’t help but bristle--shyness she never showed him.

Well, far be it from him to be judgmental. Even if Yasmine broke his damn heart just now, Moon is still his friend. He gives them a strained smile. “That’s...that’s great! Happy for you two. No shame in uh...trying out something like that.”

Demetri excuses himself and sulks back to the now-empty couch, mind racing as he sits down. Is that why Moon was trying to encourage Yasmine to break up with him? Was it even about Eli at all? Did Moon just want Yasmine for herself? It seemed unlike Moon, but who could say?

And Yasmine...had she always wanted Moon, too? Is that why she seethed every time she saw Eli shooting lovestruck glances at her friend?

...had she even ever liked Demetri at all, or was he just a cover-up for the fact that she was...lesbian? How was someone as feminine and fashionable as Yasmine a lesbian, anyways? All the lesbians Demetri saw on tv cut their hair boyishly short and had about 5 nose rings and walked around in leather jackets and combat boots.

His thoughts are interrupted by the last sweatered boy he wants to see taking a seat at the other side of the couch, glancing nervously at him with darting eyes. What did Eli want? And why was he so nervous? He’d been unduly bold as of late.

“You seen the new Doctor Who trailer?” Eli mutters.

Something about the nonchalant way he says it--like this is the olden days, when Demetri always felt like shit about himself and had no one who tolerated him but Eli--makes Demetri’s blood boil. He scoffs. “I have better things to do than watch nerd crap like that.”

A short silence. “Capaldi regenerated,” Eli offers finally. “I know you weren’t big on 12.”

No more Capaldi? Demetri turns to look at Eli, interest suddenly piqued.

“What’s the new doctor like?” he asks before he can stop himself.

Eli grins. “She’s a badass.”

“She?” Demetri finds himself grinning back. “How progressive of them. Welcome to the 21st century, Doctor Who.”

A sudden giggling catches his attention, and Demetri looks to where Yasmine and Moon are sharing a chair across the room, tangled up in each other’s arms and trading soft kisses like they don’t have a care in the world. He tenses.

Eli seems to sense his discomfort, and sighs. “Hey, I’m sorry, man. If it helps at all, I liked Moon a lot, too.”

Demetri just scoffs. “Yeah, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. They just have to be gay, right?”

Eli gives him a strange look. Demetri shuffles uncomfortably, realizing what he’s probably thinking about. The...incident, 4 years ago. Demetri glares at him, hoping to banish the thought before it arrives. None of that meant anything--they were just dumb kids. Dumb kids doing dumb shit that didn’t matter.

“I don’t know, I mean...if they’re happy together, shouldn’t we just be happy for them?”

Eli reaches out and squeezes his shoulder, and Demetri hesitates. Their special touch. Eli still remembers, even after everything that’s happened.

For a moment he’s overcome with longing, wishing things with Eli could just go back to how they used to be. Back when he knew no matter what hell he went through at school, Eli would always be there to pick him back up again. But then it sinks in what Eli’s really trying to say.

Be happy for them. What a bunch of Miyagi-Do bullshit. Just accept his sad little lot in life, just like he used to do. Go back to nerdy little Eli at the bottom of the food chain, doomed to spend the rest of his youth admiring pretty girls from a vast distance.

He never wants that to be him again.

“Oh, fuck you, Eli,” he spits, grabbing Eli’s hand and yanking it off of his shoulder. Eli freezes, looking like he’s just been slapped.

“What, so I’m supposed to do like you, moping and pining and hoping a pretty girl will look my way if I wish hard enough and just sucking it up when she doesn’t? Well, I’ve had plenty enough of that--I’ve been on the top. And I’m going to be on the top again. But you? You’ll always be pathetic--you and your entire sorry excuse for a dojo.”

He gets up and walks away, bristling with an anger he can’t even fully place anymore.

As Eli watches Demetri go, he realizes he’s finally had enough. Demetri doesn’t want to patch things up? He just wants to keep being an arrogant shithead? Fine. But Eli’s not about to take his prodding and insults anymore.

Eli makes his way over to Moon--still his friend, despite the unreciprocated feelings--and Yasmine, strikes up a conversation with them. Yasmine, he notices, is being notably nicer to him--probably at Moon’s request. They get to talking about sexualities, and Eli accidentally lets a little something slip about Demetri.

When they were 12 years old, they had kissed. It was Eli who suggested they practiced kissing, to get ready for all the girls they would inevitably date. However, a bit of choice wording and it sounded like Demetri had planted one on Eli out of nowhere...and Eli, of course, hadn’t liked it one bit, because he was totally straight. “You can’t tell anyone, though,” he pleaded the girls, big sad eyes every bit as convincing as he had hoped. “Demetri doesn’t want it to get out that he’s...you know. Gay. He’s worried it’ll ruin his reputation.”

Moon nods sincerely, but Eli can tell from the almost imperceptible smirk on Yasmine’s face that she has other plans. If there’s one thing he’s learned about Demetri’s ex over the last few months, it’s that even trying to be a better person, she can’t resist a good bit of juicy gossip.

And from what Eli gathers...two girls dating? No problem, as long as they’re hot and popular. At least creepy guys can fetishize it. But guys liking other guys? Now that...Eli has a feeling that won’t go over well.

As soon as Eli excuses himself, Yasmine gets to work. A few whispers at the snack table when Moon isn’t looking, and news of Demetri’s supposed orientation spread like wildfire.

Demetri, meanwhile, is determined to prove Eli wrong. So what if Yas doesn’t want him anymore (or never did, the mean voice in his head keeps prodding)? He’ll find another hot girl to have on his arm. He’s a top Cobra Kai fighter, after all--it’s not like it’ll be difficult.

He saunters over to a group of girls, leaning up against the wall in what he thinks has to be a very suave way. “Hey ladies,” he says. “Name’s Demetri. I’m sure you’ve heard about me--seasoned Cobra Kai fighter, finalist in the All-Valley tournament. But no need to be intimidated--if any of you beautiful ladies ever need a hand with anything, I’ll--”

“Take it off of the nearest dick to help us out?” one of the girls cuts him off. They all break out in snickers. “No thanks.”

Demetri freezes. Why would they think...?

Then he realizes there’s only one person who could have made them think he was into that sort of thing.

He tenses. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but--”

“We’ve heard all we need to,” another girl says, eyeing him up in disgust. “Not interested in getting it on with someone who’s probably had his cock up another guy’s ass, to be blunt. Gross.” Before Demetri can say another word, the girls are gone, turning and slinking hurriedly off into the crowd.

Every time Demetri tries his luck with another girl, he gets similar rebuffs. And every time, he seethes a little more. Fucking figured--timid little Eli couldn’t take the fact that Demetri had worked up the confidence to win over a girl and he hadn’t, so he had to ruin Demetri’s chances with every other girl so he’d feel better.

Besides, Demetri remembers that day from 4 years ago. He remembers that Eli was just as into...all the stuff they did.

Unfortunately, before Demetri has a chance to go over and confront Eli about the whole business, the cops show up. He’ll just have to wait until school, he figures.

Meanwhile, word gets back to Sam that Miguel showed up at her door, apologizing and promising he took all the bad reviews down--apparently Robby didn’t relay any of this to her. When Miguel admits to Demetri about the drunken kiss, Demetri chuckles, slapping him on the back. “My man! Trying to build up a whole harem here, are we?”

Miguel sighs, looking sullen. “I cheated, dude. That’s shitty.”

And then comes the PA announcement. Tory Nichols is starting shit, and Demetri can’t pretend he’s not intrigued to see where this goes.

As soon as the fight breaks out, Demetri is overcome with adrenaline. He whips through the crowd, spinning and throwing kicks and punches like explosive flashes. All he can think of is Eli, Eli, little Eli...oh, when he finds him, there’s going to be hell to pay.

And it doesn’t take long--of course Eli is the one who tries to pull a teacher in to stop the fight. The fucking wimp.

When Eli makes a run for it, Demetri can’t help but smirk when he leads him straight to the computer lab. How very typical, for someone whose hero is Steve Jobs. He grins, something frighteningly sadistic bubbling up inside of him.

For a second it almost scares him, how badly he wants to drive his foot into Eli’s chest.

“Little Eli Moskowitz!” he taunts, before he can stop himself. “Cowering away in the computer lab, just like the little nerd he is. Can’t hide forever, outer. I know damn well what you told them about me.”

He tries door after door, continuing in a singsong voice as he goes. “Oh dear me, what would they say if they knew you enjoyed it too, Eli? Well, I guess they won’t believe me now. But I know. I know you’re no better than me.”

Ever since they were kids, Demetri has been the speedier one. They used to race across the playground at recess, pretending to be Quicksilver and the Flash, but Demetri always came out ahead. Long, gangly legs tended to do that. So when Eli turns to see Demetri in the doorway, and he makes a run for it, he doesn’t get far.

Demetri grabs Eli around the waist and throws him against the wall, whipping kicks and hits into his stomach and thighs faster than he can block. Demetri hardly notices the bruises forming, or the bleeding cuts.

It’s then that Eli does something Demetri doesn’t expect--flips the script, as it were. As Demetri reaches out to strike again, Eli surges forward and grabs him by the shoulders, flipping him around and pinning him against the wall. Maybe Miyagi-Do specializes in defense, but they still taught him how to throw a good hit or two. He throws defense to the wayside and starts raining punches down on Demetri--sloppy, uncoordinated, but something the “Strike First” Cobra Kai student is entirely unprepared to defend.

When his chest is stinging and his head throbbing, Demetri can’t take anymore. Eli was a lot more...well, powerful than he expected. At his first opportunity, he turns and books it. Maybe this isn’t a fight he can win after all.

Eli doesn’t chase. As angry as he still is at Demetri, he can’t stop thinking about the mars and bruises and cuts that appeared across Demetri’s face and skin as he punched him, mirroring his own, and he feels sick. He can’t hurt Demetri anymore, no matter what Demetri thinks of him now.

Demetri just makes it to the staircase when he sees Miguel motionless on the floor, Robby Keene looking over the railing. Sam LaRusson hovering over him. He runs to Miguel’s side, world crumbling around him.

Turns out he showed mercy, just like Mr. Lawrence always said to. And look where it got him. When John Kreese offers him a place in a new Cobra Kai, determined to make the Miyagi-Dos pay for hurting Miguel, Demetri isn’t about to say no.

In his grief, it seems like the only option.

Season 3

On the first day back at school, Mitch is quick to remind Demetri that there are other girls in the world besides Yasmine. Surely it won’t be too hard to work his charms on some of the freshmen--after all, word about that little incident with Eli when they were 12 can’t have gotten across the entire school, can it?

“Well, hello, ladies!” he purrs to a passing group, leaning against the wall in the most nonchalant way possible. “Welcome to West Valley High. I know freshman year can be intimidating, high school classes and new people and all, but if you ever need help with anything, I’m--”

“--the scrawny little gay kid who ran his pussy ass away from the world’s easiest fight?” one of the girls finishes scornfully. “Yeah, we know.”

As they walk away, he notices one shoot a flirty smile at a passing Eli, surrounded by his squad of Miyagi-Do losers. “Ooooh, you’re famous now, E!” he hears Chris say, and his blood boils all over again.

Ah. So everyone knew about Eli’s little triumph.

Mitch saunters over, and Demetri follows his lead. “Got something to say?!” he snaps.

Demetri’s eyes lock with Eli’s, and he glowers down at him. Eli’s face is tight, expression almost...sad.

Not like he’d expect anything less from that little crybaby.

“Oh, little Eli,” he chides. “I’d like to see you try and hide behind security.”

“I don’t need to,” Eli mutters, not breaking eye contact.

“Everything all right here?”

At the sound of the counselor’s voice, Eli does something unexpectedly bold. He sidles up to Demetri’s side and presses into it, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “No, Counselor Blatt, we’re all friends here!” he says, offering that shy little Eli smile that made every adult in a nearby vicinity go mad with protectiveness.

Eli’s arm is tight around his neck--like a chokehold. But, Demetri notices after a few moments, it’s shaking--the grip almost frantic. Like he’s scared of when he’ll have to let go.

Odd.

Demetri turns, and his and Eli’s eyes lock. He tries to give the shorter boy the most intense, seething glare he can under his forced smile, but Eli returns the look with equal intensity. Demetri jostles his backpack his backpack and thumps him on the chest, feeling an odd compulsion to touch his old friend right back.

Maybe he missed feeling Eli’s body underneath him. But that wasn’t a thought he could afford to spend a lot of brainpower on right now. “Yeah!” he says. Of course we’re still friends! Of course you didn’t fuck up my love life and humiliate me to the entire school because you couldn’t handle the fact that I was getting some and you weren’t!

When the counselor chides them about having somewhere to be, Eli just nods, murmuring, “Yeah, of course, Counselor Blatt. Sorry.”

As Eli pulls away, he pats Demetri’s shoulder a couple times. Small, almost imperceptible, but there.

Demetri can’t tell if it’s serious--if Eli still cares--or if it’s just a cruel mockery of their old touch. He’s not sure he wants to know.

When Demetri runs into Samantha LaRusso in the hospital and she insists she wants to help, he hardly expects a whole fucking fundraiser gleefully using Miguel as their poster child. As though the Miyagi-Dos weren’t the ones who put him in the hospital in the first place. When he catches a glimpse of the carwash while driving Mitch to practice, he decides he’s going to do something about it.

Beating up the kid is an easy fight, getting the money with Mitch and the others a sinch. Maybe at some point he would’ve felt bad for this--pummeling some short kid and then taking his charity money. But all he can think of is Miguel, his best friend, lying in a white gown and hooked up to wires. Because of this kid and his stupid “peaceful” dojo.

Peaceful, Demetri’s ass.

When Demetri walks into the cafeteria the following Monday, he’s not sure what he expects to see at Yasmine and Moon’s table, the place where he would be sitting, under different circumstances--but it definitely is not Eli Moskowitz with his hair dyed bright blue and spiked up. Miyagi-Do blue. Apparently all that coolness cred he felt he got from “scaring” Demetri off in the school brawl has gotten to his head, and he’s playing out his new “badassery” up to 11. He’s showing something to Yasmine and Moon, and they’re smiling and giggling. Yasmine, of all people, is smiling at nerdy little Eli’s antics.

Demetri squints, and sees that Eli’s showing the two girls a comic book--he recognizes the copy. It’s Eli’s limited edition Captain Marvel comic book, signed by Kelly Sue DeConnick herself. Demetri remembers standing in line with him at a con to get it a few years back--he’s pretty protective of the thing.

And now he’s using it to impress girls? Because apparently Yasmine and Moon are into that kind of thing? Oh, but of course Yasmine couldn’t be into nerd shit when DEMETRI was dating her, could she?

And those gooey eyes Moon is giving Eli, her little giggles--Demetri doesn’t like them one bit. What, now Eli’s worth her affections--now that his “nerdiness” is cool? Aren’t she and Yasmine a stupid item, anyways?

Deciding he’s going to put a stop to this, Demetri saunters over, lunch tray clutched so hard his knuckles are turning white. Before the group can react to his presence, Demetri picks up his chocolate milk carton and dumps it all over Eli’s stupid blue hair, making sure to get plenty on the rare comic book in front of him.

“Oh, I hope that wasn’t important, was it Eli?” he taunts, voice thick with mock sympathy. “That sure would be a shame.”

Eli turns to look at him, eyes wide with heartbroken shock. For a moment, the anger doesn’t set in.

“I had to wait in line 5 hours to get that,” he says quietly. “You know that.”

“Sure do.” Demetri smirks. “And it took all of 5 seconds to completely ruin. How tragic.”

Eli tenses, eyes darting around for a couple seconds. Demetri starts to walk away, his point made, when he feels an iron grip on his wrist. He turns to see Eli smirking at him, clutching his arm with more force than he ever thought possible from the once-timid boy.

“Careful there, Demetri,” Eli sneers. “Coming all the way across the cafeteria to bother me when you’ve got your cool Cobra Kai friends to hang out with? People might think you’re a little...obsessed with me.” Yasmine and Moon snicker, and Demetri bristles as he realizes the implication.

“Although I shouldn’t be surprised since you love obsessing over other boys, don’t you?” Eli goes on, like his point isn’t clear enough. “Y’know, I feel bad for Yasmine. I mean, any idiot could tell she used you as a beard, but I had no idea it was a mutual thing.”

Demetri tenses, willing himself not to lose his cool. “Really letting that little victory get to your head, aren’t you, Eli? Honestly, I was going easy on you. Now I know not to next time.”

It’s at that moment that Sam LaRusso decides to show up, sliding up next to Eli and glowering up at Demetri. “There won’t be a next time if I have anything to say about it,” she retorts.

Demetri can’t help but scoff. Of course Sam LaRusso would be all too eager to defend her little pet nerd now, even though she was all too happy to laugh at him with her mean girl friends a year ago. “I’m not scared of you,” he says. “Like you’d start any fight daddy couldn’t bail you out of. Or that doesn’t end with your ex boyfriend getting thrown over a railing because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself.”

It’s a low blow, but Demetri doesn’t care. It’s hard not to look at this girl and see part of the reason Miguel might never be able to walk again.

Sam LaRusso shoves him just as the godawful counselor is sauntering over, but to hell with it--maybe Demetri could spin this to his advantage.

“She hit me, Counselor Blatt!” he cries out, pointing at Sam. “Attacked and physically assaulted me, completely unprovoked!”

“That’s not true,” Eli mumbles, eyes darting. Flawlessly slipping back into the poor little Eli role in a way that never fails to make Demetri seethe. “It wasn’t unprovoked. He started all this by destroying my limited-edition comic book for no reason.”

Demetri puts on his most convincing remorseful face and sighs. “Look, that was an accident. I just tripped while I was walking and my milk spilled. Anyhow, if your book’s that valuable, you probably shouldn’t bring it into a school cafeteria where people are more than likely going to spill food on it.”

He’d like to see the dumb counselor argue with that.

“Look, I don’t want excuses. I just want you all to respect each other.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Demetri turns to give Eli a forced smile. “Nothing but 100% respect in this environment going forward, I assure you. Sorry if we caused any problems.”

Please, just anything to make her leave.

With one last warning to Sam LaRusso, the counselor is gone. Demetri turns to the two Miyagi-Dos and smirks.

“To hell with respect,” he sneers. “Your lot hardly deserve it.”

It doesn’t surprise Demetri when Eli and his little gang of Miyagi-Do losers decide to start shit in gym class. What he isn’t expecting is for Eli and his stupid blue hair to start running next to him--right after he’s tried and failed to catch Yasmine’s attention after scoring a goal.

He’s been thinking about her all morning--was Eli right about her? Did she only use him as a cover-up?

...would no one ever want to date him for him?

Well, maybe if he won Yasmine back, he could disprove that. If Moon was going to be hanging off of Eli’s arm before too long, chances were her and Yasmine’s relationship’s days were numbered.

Whatever Eli is about to say, Demetri can already tell it’s not going to help.

And it doesn’t. “Wow, Demetri. Few guys are so bad in a relationship that they manage to turn their girlfriend gay. I hope you feel accomplished.”

Demetri balls his fists. “Say that again. I dare you.”

“You really did have a good thing going with her,” Eli sighed, voice laced with condescending pity. “It’s a shame she decided she could do better than some belligerent Cobra Kai douchebag.”

And then suddenly Eli lunges for him and tackles him, knocking him to the ground just as easily as Demetri once did to Eli at the mall.

Not that it ended up mattering all that much--Demetri was able to talk the Cobra Kai’s way out of trouble in the principal’s office, just as he so often could. Nonetheless, it seemed Eli was hardly turning out to be as much of a pushover as he thought.

When Mitch and the guys invited Demetri to go to Golf N Stuff--fuck around for a bit, cause some mayhem--he wasn’t about to say no. The thrill took over, running around, snatching tickets and prizes away, throwing them in the trash--he almost felt as powerful as Kyler must have, all those months ago when he tossed the lesser kids’ backpacks in the garbage. Is this how it felt, to be on top? To have everyone else too scared to mess with you?

Because Demetri loved it.

What he wasn’t counting on was Sam LaRusso and her little posse arriving to confront them in the laser tag arena--including Eli, face hardened and ready to fight.

Things seemed to be going pretty poorly--that was, until Tory Nichols and the backup arrived. That reduced Sam LaRusso to a sniveling mess, and finally it looked like this would be an easy finish.

Demetri found himself only stalling for a second when the way cleared for him to go at Eli. Something about the sudden terror on the other boy’s face made him hesitate, but not for long. Eli threw a weak punch, and Demetri quickly flipped him onto the ground, pulling his arm up behind him.

“No, please, stop, Deme, stop! It’s me!”

Deme...

Eli’s old nickname for him.

Demetri pauses, and suddenly he feels sick. Deme...Eli’s nickname. Eli.

Wasn’t all of this for Eli? To protect Eli?

And now here he was, about to hurt him. The one thing he swore he was going to stop everyone else from doing.

And then comes the goading cries from Tory, Mitch, and the others. Do it! Finish him! He deserves it!

He deserves it.

And then Demetri remembers what happened to Miguel when he didn’t take his chance to finish the fight with Robby Keene. Suddenly Demetri’s running out of the end of a hallway again, seeing Miguel’s motionless body lying on the stairs, and the rage and horror and mind-numbing devastation hit him all over again.

“Demetri, finish him!”

In a split second, Demetri makes his decision. Eli’s arm snaps in half.

All it takes is one terrible, pained scream from Eli for Demetri’s entire world to come crashing down on him. What the fuck did he just do?

He can’t even hear the other Cobras, gleefully congratulating him and sneering at the “pussy” on the floor. All he can hear are Eli’s pained sobs.

He’d seen Eli cry before, but never like this. Never thanks to him.

When everyone congratulates him next practice, Demetri barely hears. He’s just numb. All he can see is Eli, curled up and crying on the dirty cement floor. When Tory tells him she didn’t think he was going to do it, all he can manage out is that Miyagi-Do had it coming for hurting Miguel.

And as if his week can’t get any worse, here come Kyler and his goons sauntering into the dojo like they own the damn place. Demetri does his best to convince Mr. Kreese this is by no means a wise idea, but the sensei will not hear of it.

When Kyler and Brucks realize who he is, it only makes Demetri more livid. “Oh shit, it’s the yogurt backpack kid! Lip’s little friend! I thought he moved away!” When a fighting ring is formed, giving the new recruits a chance to “earn their spot,” Demetri is all too ready for combat.

He’s horrified at how quickly Brucks takes down Mitch, how quickly his friend is ushered out the door. It was bad enough to see Bert go, but this...this is different.

He can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alone.

When Kyler steps forward, looking for an opponent, Demetri volunteers before anyone else can. Mr. Kreese shoots him a surprised look, but he doesn’t care. This fucko has been making his life hell for years--he can already tell this is going to be therapeutic.

Demetri doesn’t hold back. The fight has barely started before Kyler’s had enough. A few fast hits and his lip’s already bloody, and he’s backing away. “No...please stop...”

And suddenly Demetri’s back in the library, on that afternoon that seems like an eternity ago, watching Kyler grip Eli by the throat. Hearing him sneer “who would ever want to kiss THAT shit?” like Eli was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen. Feeling absolutely powerless, hand clutching the back of a chair as he burned with rage that had nowhere to go.

Well, he wasn’t powerless now.

And before he knows it Demetri has Kyler pinned to the ground, landing punch after punch to his face. Because, he realizes, at the end of the day, who gives a fuck if Eli’s on the other side?

That’s still his Eli, even after everything. The same Eli he stood by for over 10 years, the same Eli who he wished so long that he could protect from everything, the same Eli who felt like he had to constantly hide a tiny red line on his face because his peers collectively decided--for no good reason at all--that it was ugly.

And maybe he couldn’t make those people hurt the way he wanted to then, but right now...well, he could hurt at least one. And that was enough.

He doesn’t stop until Kyler is practically pulverized and his hands are drenched in blood. After throwing his last punch, he smirks, leaning down to whisper into Kyler’s ear.

“Now who’d want to kiss THAT shit? That’s right, asshole--I remember.”

Demetri kicks Kyler’s limp form as he walks away. He shoots Brucks a glare as he falls back in line--just for good measure.

When Miguel comes back to school, Demetri’s one of the first to greet him at the door. “Cobra Kai’s still going strong! It’s going to be great to have you back!” He’s a little confused as to why Miguel seems so hesitant, but he doesn’t worry too much about it--they can sort through all that later.

Miguel’s certainly taken aback by the clunky cast he sees on Eli’s arm when he runs into him in the hall--but perhaps even moreso by the fact that he has both shamelessly dyed his hair blue and spiked it up in a mohawk and is currently walking the school hallways with Moon on his (unbroken) arm. As it turns out, once word got back to Moon that Yasmine was the one who had shamelessly whispered around the school about Demetri being gay, she had broken things off with her. And, with his new “coolness” upgrade, she’d taken quite a liking to Eli.

Not like she had any way of knowing he’d been planning on Yasmine’s cruel gossip, after all.

But the cast, Miguel quickly learns, has a much darker backstory than anything he could have expected.

He wastes no time confronting Demetri about it in the lunchroom. “I heard what happened with Eli. How could you do that?”

Demetri’s stomach clutches. He scowls, determined not to show his discomfort.

“Wow!” He scoffs. “We go to all the trouble of getting payback on those assholes for getting you thrown over that railing, and this is the thanks we get?”

Miguel shakes his head, horrified. “Dude, who cares what dojo Eli’s in? He’s our friend! And in any case, it’s not his fault what happened to me. What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t know. I don’t know. Demetri’s face hardens. He can only imagine how angry Mr. Kreese would be with him if he caught him showing any kind of weakness. Any kind of second-guessing.

But he can’t help it. Glimpsing Eli in that cast for the first time...

“Look, the Miyagi-Dos were the ones who picked a fight with us,” Demetri retorts. “We just had to do what we had to so they’d back off and leave us alone. We had to finish the fight.”

Miguel pauses, looking pained. “This isn’t...this isn’t you, Demetri. You’re letting Kreese get in your head. He’s trying to manipulate you, get you to...obsess over revenge so you’ll hurt people. But I know you, and I know you don’t want to. Eli, or anyone else.”

Demetri clenches his fists. “What would you know about how I feel about Eli?”

“Look, I can’t claim I know what’s going on between you two,” Miguel amends. “But you have to believe me--Kreese is dangerous. He’s using you. He doesn’t care about you, Demetri. Just...come to Sensei Lawrence’s new dojo. Please. Things can be like they used to. You don’t have to be in this...this war.”

This gives Demetri pause. “He...made a new dojo?”

Okay, so he’s still not Mr. Lawrence’s biggest fan--the man is an asshole at the best of times. But to be able to train with Miguel again...to be able to be badass without being expected to be some soldier...

He can’t finish speaking before Brucks’s voice rings out through the cafeteria. “Look everyone, Lip’s got a dick in his hand!”

Demetri looks up to see Eli being held by the cast, eyes darting around as the entire cafeteria bursts into laughter. Involuntarily, Demetri bristles.

And there it is again, that feeling of being the helpless kid in the library as Eli’s taunted. And even after all this time...he still hates it.

Miguel turns to him, shaking his head. “So these are your friends now? I thought you were better than that.”

And just like that, Miguel’s gone. Gone from the Cobra Kai table, gone from Demetri’s life.

It makes him wonder if he’s making a huge mistake. But he knows he can’t back out now--not when he’s this far in. Who would even want to take him back? Probably not Miguel and Mr. Lawrence--despite what Miguel said, Demetri knows there’s no way he’s going to forgive him so easily for hurting their other friend. And certainly not Eli.

What makes it even worse is seeing Eli later that day, curled up against some lockers with Moon. Moon is tracing over his cast in colored sharpie, slowly transforming the dick pic into a beautiful landscape and night sky. Eli is bragging about how the arm-breaking didn’t hurt that bad.

Demetri remembers when that soft little smile was reserved only for him, and a pit starts to form in his stomach.

Well, no use bitching. You did this to yourself.

It seems like the world is out to just make Demetri’s existence in Cobra Kai as shitty as possible these days. Mitch and Bert are gone, Miguel isn’t coming back, Brucks is being a royal douchebag like always, and perhaps worst of all, Robby Keene shows up at the dojo. Demetri tries his damndest to appeal to Mr. Kreese about how outrageous this is--this is the kid who paralyzed Miguel in the fucking first place, what’s the point of dojo-wide revenge if they just take in the main culprit like an old buddy? But of course Mr. Kreese spouts some nonsense about how they need all the help they can get for the All-Valley, and sometimes you have to be allies with people you aren’t the biggest fans of, blah blah blah. To make matters worse, Tory--not a friend exactly, but probably the closest thing Demetri’s got to one left--is getting far too chummy with Robby for Demetri’s taste.

Maybe Demetri’s insane, but it seems like more and more ridiculous shit is being handwaved in the name of...what? Winning a karate tournament? Getting revenge for a kid who’s already recovered, and doesn’t even seem to want it?

When word gets back to Cobra Kai that Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang are teaming up, Kreese sends the students on a special mission: Show the other dojos that even with their combined forces, they’re no match for Cobra Kai. It seems like a waste of time to Demetri--why antagonize other dojos just minding their business? It’s not like there was anything worth fighting for in this dumb war anymore, considering Miguel was on his feet again (literally AND figuratively). Nonetheless, Demetri finds he’s itching for a good fight--it’s been way too long since he’s charged into a full-fledged battle.

Maybe this will help him get it out of his system, if nothing else.

When the fight breaks out at the LaRussos, it doesn’t take long for Demetri to be overtaken by the thrill of it. Just like he was at the school fight. Just like he was at the tournament. He’s zipping through the house, landing kicks and punches left and right. And it feels good. With everything having been so awful lately, he can’t remember the last time he’s felt more alive.

And then he lands a fierce kick, and Brucks chest-bumps him. “Hell yeah! kick some ass! Dumb losers never had a chance.”

Brucks. The same kid who laughed when he saw Eli starting to cry about the comments he made on his lip. The same kid claiming Kyler tossing his backpack into a yogurt-filled trash can was “brute.” And now here he was trying to be buddy-buddy with him.

Everything comes crashing down on Demetri at once.

Miguel’s speech, saying Kreese is manipulating him. Saying Kreese doesn’t care about him. Kreese cherry-picking what does and doesn’t count as vengeance--hurting Eli, someone who had nothing to do with Miguel’s fall, does, but teaming up with the kid responsible for said fall apparently does not. Demetri’s friends being booted from Cobra Kai one by one, just for not being strong enough.

The sound of Eli’s screams and sobs in a dark laser tag room.

Miguel was right, wasn’t he? Kreese never cared about getting payback for him. He only cared about starting a war for his own sadistic pleasures.

Demetri hears grunting and whimpering, and he looks up to see two of the other Cobras kneeing Eli in the chest over and over. Pinning him into an arm bar.

“Yo, ‘Mete!” one calls out. “Free shot!”

Eli looks up, gaze full of fear and pain. Bright blue irises glinting with welling tears.

Once upon a time, Demetri made a promise to himself that he would stick with karate, aggravating as it may be, so he would never have to see that look on Eli’s face again. It’s time, he figures, that he finally made good on that.

His face contorts into a snarl, and he runs to Eli. Eli closes his eyes and scrunches his face, bracing for a pain that never comes.

Demetri kicks one Cobra to the wayside and smashes the other into a glass table with perhaps more force and adrenaline than he’s used all night.

When he turns to Eli, the other boy backs away, eyes still wide with terror. Demetri feels sick to his stomach, and the tears come before he can stop them.

“God, Eli, I’m so sorry,” he splutters. “I’m so fucking sorry, for everything. I don’t know what I was thinking, and it was all so fucked up, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I’ll never hurt you like that again, but if you don’t want anything to do with me now, I totally understand, and--”

“Demetri.”

“--I was so awful to you, and I didn’t listen to you, and I should’ve been there for you, and I’m such a piece of shit friend and--”

“DEMETRI!”

Finally Eli raises his voice enough that Demetri pauses. “...yeah, Eli?”

“Please stop talking. I forgive you. Now are you going to shut up and help me finish this?” He raises a hand, as if to initiate their old handshake. An olive branch.

Demetri grins so wide he thinks his face is going to break, and he grips Eli’s hand like a lifeline. Something to finally pull him out of the darkness. “Yeah.”

They’re a lethal fighting team. Between Demetri landing speedy hits and Eli protecting him and shielding them both with his bulked-up form (where did he get all that muscle? Demetri wonders), they dispatch half the Cobras in minutes. Whatever rush Demetri was feeling fighting when he first got here is nothing compared to fighting with Eli.

When they stop the fight between Tory and Sam, Tory wastes no time voicing her disdain for the ex-Cobras. “You’d better watch your back,” she spits at Demetri, and he feels a chill run through him. Turns out this girl is terrifying when she’s not fighting on your side.

Eli intercepts her as she leaves, staring her down defiantly in a very un-Eli-like manner. “You’d better watch yours,” he growls. “Touch him, and I’ll end you.”

Demetri glances over in surprise. When did Eli get so bold?

Well...he thinks he could grow to like it.

Season 4 (because fuck it)

Demetri is hardly expecting Mr. LaRusso and Mr. Lawrence to forgive him, never mind let him into their new dojo. But life has a lot of pleasant surprises in store for him, it seems, after the shitshow it recently put him through. It’s also possible Eli (and maybe Miguel too) but in a good word for him.

Demetri can’t stop apologizing to Eli. Seemingly every day, he finds a new thing to apologize for. Eli gets aggravated with it before long, having to reassure Demetri at least 50 separate times that he forgives him for everything. Nonetheless, Demetri refuses to stop--because he’ll never stop being sorry.

Or trying to find new ways to make it up to Eli. Going easy on him during sparring. Buying him lunch after practice. Helping him perfect some of the most badass Cobra moves.

Things end between Eli and Moon. Eli can’t fully elaborate on why--he just tells Demetri something didn’t feel quite right. The spark died out, like Demetri’s adrenaline rush slowly seeping away toward the end of a fight. That, and, Demetri gathers, something seems to have been distracting Eli from his girlfriend as of late.

Most likely the approaching, high stakes All-Valley. Karate is Serious Business, as they’ve both embraced now.

Rumor has it Yasmine and Moon are trying again, Yasmine realizing for seemingly the first time how awful she’s really been and making an effort to be better. Moon makes her want to be better--more than Demetri ever did, he realizes. And maybe that’s okay--he and Yasmine probably just weren’t right for each other.

Then one day, after yet another one of Demetri’s long-winded apologies, Eli offers something other than an exasperated. “It’s okay. Seriously.” There’s a pause before Eli quietly says “I’m sorry too.”

“For what?” Demetri blurts out, baffled. Everything Eli’s done has paled in comparison to his own atrocities.

“For outing you,” Eli says simply. “That was fucked. And it wasn’t my place, even if I was mad at you.”

“It’s all right.” Demetri shrugs. “You were right, anyways.”

Eli gives him a strange look. “I was?”

“Yeah, I mean...” Demetri laughs dryly. “I don’t...like girls. I pretended I did, because I felt like I was supposed to. That’s what people expect you to do when you’re a top athlete and all that. But dating Yasmine, chasing other girls, it always felt...empty. Like I was just acting out a role in a play or something. And at the end of the day, I think...” He pauses. “I think I was always looking at you.”

Because the last few months have made him realize something. Training with Eli, teaching Eli how to protect himself, watching Eli step up and defend him from the mistrusting stares and the scornful whispers...

Just how much of the person he’s become is thanks to wanting to protect Eli. The fact that that was always how all this started.

“I love you,” he blurts out, before he can stop himself. “I know I did a shitty job of showing it, and I know you were with Moon and you’re not like that, but I need you to know, and I understand if you don’t feel--”

Eli cuts him off with a fierce kiss, pinning him up against the dojo wall with unexpected aggressiveness.

When Eli pulls away, he’s smiling softly. The same smile he gave Moon in the hall as she drew on his cast--the smile that’s once again all Demetri’s.

“I love you too,” he murmurs. “Why do you think I broke up with Moon? Every time I was with her...I couldn’t stop wishing it was you. She’ll never know me like you do.”

And Kreese had better look out because Miyagi Fang’s next big power couple is a force to be reckoned with--the snarky, frighteningly fast-attacking ex-Cobra, and the buff, blue-mohawked Miyagi-Do with more inner peace than anyone would expect.

SOME RANDOM SIDENOTES ABOUT THIS BECAUSE I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE PUTTING THIS ALL IN THE TAGS

~I’m sorry if anyone is OOC in this--I know Johnny is kind of a fuck, but he genuinely WAS pretty crappy to Eli at first and who knows if he would’ve treated him any better if he didn’t “flip the script”??? ~Dark/Evil Demetri is so fun but also so awful to write--I hope you like him being an absolute fuck because the Corruption Arc is REAL ~Yes, I DO in fact fully believe Demetri would go on a crazed revenge quest just like Eli/Hawk did out of his grief for Miguel--the boy absolutely loves Miguel and arguably would want vengeance as much as Eli if their roles were swapped!!! Because Demetri cares about Miguel SO FUCKING MUCH even if it’s not as obvious as it is with Eli but that’s a rant for another post ~I included YasMoon because fuck it, I thought it’d be interesting. That and, unlike the Cobra Kai writers, I am not at all afraid of what conservative audiences will say, so I am not afraid to make things as gay as possible. ~There’s a good chance I swapped Kyler and Brucks’ places near the end solely so I could have Demetri beat the fuck out of Kyler because I just really need that ~Yes, even without formally becoming “Hawk,” Eli could learn how to be a conniving manipulative little shit if he wanted to be. Look at some of the shit he pulls with the counselor in canon Season 3!!! Boy sure as hell knows how to play the victim. ~Honestly not sure if being outed as gay is better or worse than being outed as a bed-wetter, but I had to think of something that would pack the same kind of emotional punch. In Eli’s feeble defense, the West Valley High kids don’t seem like the types to be like...especially violent against queer kids (otherwise NO WAY would Moon and Piper have been able to be that open about their relationship), they’d just be assholes about it. So Eli wasn’t putting Demetri in legit danger here so much as just opening him up to a lot of ridicule. Which is still fucked, but hey, I DID warn you this would be kind of fucked up XD ~Maybe short, concise apologies work for Eli, bUT NOT FOR DEMETRI THE RAMBLER ~Dark Demetri chasing Eli through the school like a goddamn serial killer = 10/10 gave myself a big Spook writing ~Yes, Eli does still have (and always had) his “Hawk” traits, even without the formal “transformation.” I just think his “Hawk” side would be a little more subtle and subdued if he were in Miyagi-Do, but it’s still there for sure.

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isolemnlyswearpevensie · 4 years ago

Text

Paper Cut | Edmund Pevensie x Reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: Mentions of injury/blood, describing pain, seemingly near-death experience and talk about death, probably some cussing

Time/Era: Modern AU but the Pevensies have been to Narnia.

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: Every injury your soulmate receives, you also receive. When you finally meet your soulmate, you have a few bones to pick.

A/N: Hello! This is the first imagine I’ve written on this blog, so I decided to do something a little more light-hearted for our favorite just king. I’m also a sucker for soulmate aus. There will be a part 2 for this story :D Feel free to leave requests :) Also, I’ve never been to Cambridge University so please take everything I say about it with a grain of salt lol

Part 2 | Part 3 | masterlist | read on ao3

It’s a common courtesy to try and be as careful as you can when it comes to your body. Not for your sake, but for your soulmate’s. Every papercut, cramp, broken bone, and even every itch you feel, your other half does as well. So, it was common sense to try to be as careful as you could to not inflict pain on them. Or at least that’s what Y/N thought. She spent her whole life dodging anything she felt could cause her harm. This included “normal kid” things like playing on the playground, rolling down hills, jumping off things, or playing sports. Her heart was always in the right place, even if her friends and family called her a stick in the mud for declining their “fun” requests. She could not, and will not, injure her person. When she was around 8, she had been playing with a paper airplane and it just barely sliced her finger. It left behind a pesky papercut that stung. Bad. The small injury left Y/N guilty for days afterward. She has assumed that her soulmate was on the same page as her for the longest time. Aside from a few skinned knees (they were kids after all,) Y/N was left unscathed. She went on her days carefree until she was about fifteen.

It seemed as though Y/N’s soulmate had completely changed their deminer overnight. It started with a bit of road rash on her palms. Y/N assumed they had fallen accidentally. Annoying, sure, but it was more than manageable. Then, her lip split open and bled for almost 15 minutes.

As the week went on, large bruises started appearing on her legs and hips. Maybe the road rash fall was worse than she initially thought. Again, she just rode it off as clumsiness. It wasn’t long until her fingertips started to turn purple. This made Y/N panic.

“Ma’am?” Y/N interrupted her science teacher in the middle of her lecture, “I think there’s something wrong with my hands.” The purple started to spread down her fingers towards her knuckles. They also proved to be getting harder to move.

“Oh, dear, you’re freezing.” Ms. Adamson remarks, taking Y/N’s hands into her own.

“What’s happening? Am I dying?” Her entire hand was now numb.

“I don’t think so, Miss L/N, but, it’ll help you and them out if we warm you up.”

Her toes suffered the same fate, she discovered during a visit to the school’s infirmary. (Which wasn’t even worth visiting in Y/N’s opinion.) The nurse at Y/N’s school didn’t have the “jurisdiction” to help Y/N properly, so she had to settle for a wet paper towel that was warmed in the microwave. Y/N just wished to be sent home instead. By the time she was finally set free, the purple had faded but her skin tone was not back to normal. Hopefully, the paper towel did something for her soulmate cause this sure as hell wasn’t Y/N’s fault. Her parents were flabbergasted when she got home, mostly upset that they made her miss so many of her classes. Neither had any explanation but tried to offer unhelpful comforting all the same.

When Y/N awoke the next morning, all of the fingers in her hand had gone back to normal and she regained feeling. Finally, her soulmate was finally safe.

She spent the day coming up with ridiculous reasons as to why they had almost given her frostbite. Maybe they got locked in a freezer at an ice cream store and had to wait for the store to reopen to let them out. Maybe they live in Antarctica and they got locked out of their house in their underwear. Maybe they were trying to win a bet to see who could stay in ice water the longest. The daydreams were cut short as she was harshly awoken by a searing pain in her abdomen.

Ms. Adamson dropped her whiteboard marker and panicked when she heard Y/N scream. It wasn’t a normal teenage girl scream either. No, this scream was filled with pure agony and distress. It echoed against the walls and vibrated the desks. It sounded as if she was getting murdered. Y/N fell to the floor and landed in a big heap. The scientist hurriedly ran towards Y/N and stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the teen’s blood pooling on the linoleum floor. It appeared she had been stabbed, by the looks of it.

Pointing at various other students to do various tasks, call an ambulance, call the office, and to go get another teacher, she took hold of Y/N’s hand.

“It’s going to be okay,” She whispered, “You’re going to be fine. Keep your eyes open for me.”

Y/N felt very odd. Was this what dying felt like? She felt as though she was underwater; she could hear Ms. Adamson but her voice was muffled and she couldn’t make anything out. Y/N felt dizzy and sick at the same time, all she wanted to do was shut her eyes. So she did. Relief filled her as quickly as the pain. Her wound felt cold as if someone was pushing a damp cloth onto it. The pain lessened and lessened until there was none at all.

Five years later she had almost forgotten about what had happened. Almost. In the years that followed the incident, severe gashes and bruises had become a normal occurrence. Her body was riddled with what seemed like battle scars, and she was almost always on edge. She had no way of knowing what was going to happen to her, nor when it was going to happen. This felt really unfair. She had been so careful for them, but they treated themself like a rag doll.

Much to her delight, when she hit eighteen all of the injuries suddenly stopped. The last injury she had received was a dark black bruise that covered her entire side, then nothing. It had been two years and all she got were papercuts and burned tongues.

“Take a break,” Y/N’s roommate grabs the pen out of her hand and places it on the desk. “You’ve been working on that for ages, come get coffee with me.”

Y/N was currently in her third year at Cambridge University, working on her undergraduate biology degree. For her degree, she had to take organic chemistry and it was, in simple terms, kicking her ass. Her professor is shitty, the work was hard and Y/N was losing motivation.

“I can’t. If I stop I’ll fail the final, then fail the class then never graduate.” Y/N mumbles, picking up her pen again and scribbling something down.

“That’s not true, just come with me. Please?” “I said no, Y/B/F/N.”

“What if you take your books with you? A change of environment might help you study.”

Y/N leans back in her chair and looks up at her roommate. Maybe she had a point, it might do her good to get out a little bit. She packs her things and the two make their way to the coffee shop.

The coffee shop on campus was small and always packed. The school preferred to call it “cozy,” but still, it’s small. Surprisingly, there weren’t many people inside.

“Most people must’ve already left campus for break,” Y/B/F/N said, seemingly reading your mind.

Only three of the tables had students sitting at them. One in the far corner had a girl who looked to be a very frustrated first year, huddled over a croissant and an English textbook. A few tables down sat four boys and one girl. Each had books open and pens in their hands, but by picking up snippets of their conversation, they were talking about whether Voldemort or Darth Vader would win in a fight. Finally, near the window, sat a boy who was staring straight at her. She recognized him from a few of her general education classes. Y/N had never talked to this boy, but he was rather cute. He was wearing a crimson sweater and ripped jeans with converse, hair messily tossed to the side. Y/N couldn’t decide whether or not he was staring at her or was in a very deep thought so she waved. No wave back.

The two girls get their coffee and sit down a few tables away from the boy.

“Do you know that guy?” Y/B/F/N asks, moving her head towards crimson sweater.

“Not officially, I recognize him. Oh, what’s his name? I knew it at one point…” Y/N reaches into her bag and pulls out her books again, placing them on the table. As if it were a habit, she immediately starts studying again. She glances past her friend; the guy was still staring at that one spot.

Time passes fast for Y/N but slow for Y/B/F/N. She tried to speak with you but ultimately gave up. So, bidding you goodbye, she left to go find her boyfriend. Y/N was kind of relieved, she can finally study in peace. The big group also left, after fighting about whether a time turner should be illegal or not, so the cafe was left with an almost eery silence. So silent that you can hear every pencil scratch, every tap of a keyboard, and every gulp of coffee.

At some point, the boy had gotten up to get another cup of coffee and passed by Y/N. He was wearing a shit ton of cologne, so he left a scent trail wherever he went. Making his way back to his table, he tripped and spilled his coffee all over Y/N’s chemistry notes.

“No, no, no, no, no!!!!!” Y/N screeches, wiping away the coffee with her bare hands. The drink splashes onto the boy’s pants and shoes.

“Oh as- oh fuck, I am so sorry!” He grabs a wad of napkins and tries to blot the paper. She had worked on that study guide for hours, and now it was ruined. There was no way her professor would take it now. Thank god her laptop was still in her bag.

Panicked, Y/N picks up her notebook and starts flipping through it. Her pen marks were bleeding together and there was no way to save them. Coffee crimson boy grimaces and picks up the notebook.

“I don’t suppose this was an art class and you could turn it in as an abstract piece?” He says in a serious tone, though the words were highly sarcastic. Y/N lets out a single laugh.

“I wish it were, but no. O Chem,” Coffee crimson’s face contorts even more.

“Ouch, um, do you have it backed up anywhere?”

“Ah yes, I have my notebook backed up.” The previously broken ice was discarded and Y/N was frustrated again.

“You should have done it on your laptop.”

“And you should watch where the fuck you’re going.” Y/N snatches the notebook from his hand. Coffee crimson notices your tone and quickly backtracks.

“Hey, let me redo it for you then,” He glances at the textbook casually. “I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“And why should I trust you? I don’t know you and my grade is riding on this.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” His smile was warm. “I’m Edmund Pevensie, I’m in the prelaw program.”

“Oh, perfect, a law student that’s going to attempt my organic chemistry homework. Wonder what could go wrong.”

“I’m sure I can figure it out. Law is hard, maybe a different kind of hard, but still hard. I can do hard.”

“Take a shot every time sweater guy says hard. I feel like I’m at a frat party.”

“I’m trying to fix my mistake here,” Now Edmund is the one that looks frustrated. “Here, take my number. I’ll text you updates and meet you back here tomorrow.” He looks at the clock. Damn, he had a gorgeous jawline. “4:32 pm. Exactly 24 hours from now.” Edmund scribbles his number onto a napkin and hands it to Y/N. As he writes, she can’t help but notice a long, jagged scar running the back of his hand. She scrunchs her eyebrows.

Edmund actually kept his word. Every hour until four am that night he sent Y/N updates. Goofy pictures of him googling stupid questions or him writing. He sent a video that gave Y/N a perfect shot of the scar. Curiously, Y/N looks down at her own hand.

The next day, his photo updates started coming again. This time they were more serious, showing the study guide. He ended up putting his own commentary in the margins; some funny some that made her think of the material differently. Y/N could really tell he was smart, even by his handwriting.

He sent a picture to Y/N at 4:25 of the table in the coffee shop. “I’m early” was sent at the exact moment Y/N opened the door.

“Wow, I’m impressed. I didn’t actually think you’d show.” Y/N sat opposite of him and smiled. He was wearing the same (coffee stained) jeans as yesterday and a button-up shirt.

“I wouldn’t do all that work for nothing,” He smiled again and handed Y/N a new notebook she had never seen before.

As she gripped the pages, the corner dug into her palm and cut her.

“Ow!” The two said at the same time. They both had a thin cut in the middle of their palms. His large brown eyes met Y/N’s and they stared for a moment. Y/N then grabbed his hand and pushed up his sleeve to show the scar going up the back of his hand. Y/N couldn’t look away from his skin; just as she had thought, it was identical to hers.

Meeting his gaze again, she pressed a hand to her stomach. Her hand rested right above a large, jagged scar that didn’t seem to heal quite right. His eyes followed the line of her arm.

“Edmund, I think you have a lot of explaining to do.”

#edmund pevensie #edmund pevensie x reader #edmund x reader #the chronicles of narnia #narnia #edmund pevensie fanfic #edmund pevensie fanfiction #the chronicles of narnia fanfic #the chronicles of narnia fanfiction #soulmate #soulmate au

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soldrawss · 4 years ago

Note

Ok, this morning I opened Tumblr, found your blog, started checking all your rottmnt tagged posts, found your big brother Mikey AU, CRIED FOR ALMOST AN HOUR as I red every post about it, drooled all over your gorgeous art, smiled like a crazy person reading all your Human AU posts, got up with the sun in my chest and more energy than I know what to do with and have been productive since then. I don’t know what to ask (or if you take asks) but I crave more infos about your big brother Mikey AU❤️

WOAH OK this was such an incredibly sweet ask and I’m SO HAPPY that my BBM au could bring you so much joy and ahhhh!!! Just thank you so much, this ask made my night <3 Here’s one of the many little stories I’ve written for the AU that I’ve sent to my friend @zacharandom (thanks for always reading my little emotional blurbs about these kiddos Zach~) Enjoy!

(I haven’t gotten into it yet (I will, it’s a separate ask I’m working on) But Leatherhead is a BIG part of the BBM au. Zach had asked if any of the kiddos had ever been to LH’s place, since LH always stays over at the Hamato’s, and I said yes, but only Donnie, and then this mini fic was born.) Donnie and Mikey get into a 'fight'. And I say 'fight' because Donnie doesn't really know what else to call it. Because he doesn't pick fights, not really, not with Mikey. He doesn't go looking for them with Mikey like he does with Leo. Leo, who can take the worst of Donnie’s shitty teenage attitude and come out of it alright, wearing the worst of Donnie’s temper and anger like a bulletproof vest. Donnie can afford to hurt Leo cause Leo won't break because of it. He's safe to hurt. But it's different with Mikey. Mikey, who's so tired he can barely stand straight most days. Who has bags under his eyes like dark stickers, that not even doe-eyed and ever adoring Raph can peel away. And Donnie KNOWS better than to pick a fight with Mikey about it, it was mostly why he was trying to avoid the conversation altogether. Why he had hidden all the school letters and hacked into Mikey's phone to block all the emails and texts and phone calls from the school about it. He didn't expect Mikey to run into one of his teachers after work and basically blow everything Donnies worked so hard to avoid. He didn't want to skip a few grades. He didn't care what his teachers or his GPA said. He didn't CARE if they thought he was ‘wasting his potential’. He wasn't, and they had no right to complain about it to his big brother like they did. Donnie had TOLD Mikey that he didn't want to. Had gone all the extra lengths to take as many of the AP classes the adjacent high school offered, bargained and pleaded and BEGGED them. He’d do whatever it took, but he didn't want to move grades. He didn't want to quit the robotics club. He didn't want to go to school with a bunch of kids older than him and be the butt end of every baby freshmen joke in the book. He didn't want to be separated from Leo. He really, really, really didn't. And he had explained this all to Mikey. And he knew that Mikey KNEW this. But the teachers wouldn't stop hounding him, and Mikey was already so tired anyway, the weight of the world always seemed to be a weighted pressure on his shoulders that looked physical, with the way Mikey’s whole body sagged. Like every move he made was a conscious effort and pain. Donnie knew this, and he still yelled at Mikey about it anyway. And Mikey didn't yell back, cause Mikey never yelled back at them, but his voice was stern and tired and it just begged Donnie to at least consider talking about it. But Donnie’s 13, and the biggest jerk in the world because he doesn't want to talk about it anymore. And Mikey didn't deserve the one sided shouting match that was all Donnie, he didn't deserve the pointed "I can't believe you would take THEIR side, you NEVER listen to me!" And Mikey DEFINITELY didn't deserve the front door slamming in his face, the last words Donnie said hanging in the air behind him. "I HATE IT HERE!" It wasn't raining, but there was a misty cold hanging in the November air as Donnie sat at an empty park bench, somewhere in Flushing, feeling like the biggest loser in the world the second he ran away and oh,,, oh God. He ran AWAY. How could he run away? He didn't want to run away! He didn't want to run away from anything, especially if it was away from Mikey. Mikey, who deserved more than Donnie’s cold shoulder and heated words, but took it anyway, and he didn't even flinch as Donnie practically screamed at him. He just looked tired. More tired than ever. And accepted Donnie’s temper tantrum like he accepted every other bad thing that has ever happened to him. Like he thought he deserved it. And he was sad. Sad in a way that made Donnie want to throw up. Because he was one of the people who were NEVER supposed to hurt Mikey like that. But he did. He did and he ran away like a little kid and he felt so STUPID about it, jumping on the first bus he could and taking it to God knows what neighborhood and now he was sitting alone on some random park bench, the November cold sinking into his skin and thin shirt cause he didn't have the mind to grab a jacket on his way out and GOD what was he doing? He was cold and alone and probably lost and Mikey probably hated him and now- "Donatello?" Came a voice from behind Donnie, and Donnie whirled around on the park bench because he'd recognize that low and gentle voice anywhere and... Yup. There he was. Lieven Heather, or Leatherhead as Mikey always affectionately called him, standing tall and curious like. His long black hair pulled into a low bun, his green eyes leaf-like and bright, piercing through the dark park like fireflies, looking at Donnie like he was searching for an answer before he got the chance to ask the question and WOAH was Donnie not the emotional type, but he could have cried when he saw the familiar face.

Actually, he was already crying before, but crying because you’re happy to see someone and crying because you’re a jerk to your big brother are two completely different types of emotions, and Donnie tried to hide it either way by rubbing at his face with the back of his wrist. LH’s namesake leather jacket is HUGE on Donnie, but the 12 year old takes it without a fight because LH does NOT look like he's willing to negotiate, as he holds a bag of groceries in one hand and holds an umbrella over the both of them in the other, saying that his apartment is just a few blocks away, and it'd be best to get out of the cold. The tall man doesn't press Donnie for details, doesn't ask why his friend's kid brother is out at 8pm on a school night, all the way on the other side of the city, eyes red with something between tempered anger and grief and skin pale with November cold. Donnie is thankful for it. He doesn't feel like explaining himself quite yet. The second hand hurt from before is still raw in his chest, and even though he knows he's the one at fault, he can't really shake off the sinking black hole feeling in his chest. So the 10-minute walk is mostly silent. LH lives in a grey bricked building, on the third floor, and his apartment is exactly what Donnie would expect if he really thought hard about it. It was a simple studio, minimalist and uncluttered, but that seemed more because the place felt untouched rather than because LH was a particularly clean guy. All the electronics on in the kitchen where stainless steel and spotless, Donnie half suspected they were untouched because of the garbage can filled with dollar store Ramen noodle cups and forks in the sink. His grey walls were bare, and he didn't have a TV, but there was a large bookshelf that covered the expanse of one wall, filled to the brim with thick books that looked like they belonged in the reference section of a library. There was a little queen-sized bed shoved in the corner, neatly made, and looked rarely slept in. The only sign of life in the little apartment that felt much too small for the nearly 7-foot man was the little desk that sat beside the bed, which was covered in astrophysics textbooks, notebooks filled with scribbled notes and a few orange study note cards that had Donnie's older brother written (metaphorically) all over them. Lh motioned to the chair at the desk with a nodded, "you can sit there if you want. I'll make some Valerian tea." "Valerian tea?" "Helps with stress." "I'm not stressed." "Right, of course not. Still tastes good." And Donnie doesn't really like tea, he'd much prefer coffee, or one of the energy drinks Leo sneaks him during school lunches because Mikey doesn’t buy them, but he knows better than to ask for that. He knew about LH’s anxiety disorder and underlying PTSD, from a past that Donnie didn't know any details about except from snippets he'd overhear here and there from the hushed late-night conversations LH and Mikey would have when they thought that Leo and Donnie and Raph were asleep, and he knew that caffeine wasn't something LH indulged in often because of it. The tea tastes fine though. It's hot, and burns his throat a little, but Donnie doesn't care enough to wait for it to cool down to enjoy it. Because it hurts, and Donnie figures he kinda deserves the pain. It's after a few quiet minutes, Donnie sitting at LH’s desk while LH leans against his kitchen counter, that Donnie reaches for a courage he doesn't usually possess and tells LH everything.

About the extra AP classes, and the nosey teachers, and the way it feels a bit too suffocating trying to be everything everyone wants him to be.

And how it all feels too lonely. He barely remembers his mom. He’s starting to forget dad. Mikey works all the time and Raph goes to a completely different school. If he moves up a few grades, then he loses Leo too. And he just can’t deal with that. He can’t deal with everyone, some way or another, leaving him. And how in some, backward, twisted way, it sometimes feels like people are trying to get rid of him. And he just can’t take it anymore. Donnie likes LH. He's smart and collective and cool and he's super nice to Mikey and he’s pretty much everything that Donnie wants to be when he grows up. And he's friends with LH. LH gives him pointers on his science projects and he teaches Leo how to punch a bully like its nothing and he's patient and understanding and helpful with Raph's temper and he's a godsend of a friend the Hamato clan didn't know they could afford after April had came into their lives and Donnie LIKES Lh. But he didn't think they were good enough friends for Donnie to deserve THIS. LH listened to him patiently and quietly. Nodding at the appropriate moments in Donnie’s tearful and half-hysterical rambling about his school and his GPA and how he didn't mean to take it out on Mikey and he didn't mean to run away but GOD he was so sick of everyone looking down on him like a little kid and like HE didn't know what was best for him and didn't have a choice in deciding HIS future. And he expects LH to get mad at him too, cause he was Mikey’s friend first before Donnie’s, and Donnie YELLED at Mikey, and Donnie WASNT going to sob like a child about it, but his head lowers and there's a stupid stinging in his eyes and he sniffs once or twice anyway when he mutters "God, I'm so stupid. Mikey probably hates me right now and is so mad at me." And he can hear LH sigh, and put his own cup of tea down, before walking over to where Donnie sat and crouching before his chair. "That's funny you think that, because when I texted him earlier, he sounded nothing short of scared out of his mind and relieved." "You texted him???" "Well yeah, of course. He called me shortly after you ran out, singing the same tune you are about how you're so mad at him and he didn’t mean to fight with you and that you probably hate him. That’s probably the only reason I even saw you, I wouldn't have known to look out for you if he hadn't told me to keep a lookout for you." And that, woah, Donnie felt a million times worse now because of COURSE, he didn't hate Mikey! Donnie wasn't even MAD at him. He was just being a stupid stubborn teen who took out all his frustrations and insecurities on the last person in the world who deserved it and boy oh boy, this whole thing was so stupid anyway.

“How about he finish our tea, wait for you to get a little bit warmed up first, and then get you back home so that you can tell everything you just told me to your brother. Because I think we both know how much he’d want to hear how you truly felt about this situation.”

And that... that sounded good. Because after his entire mini-rant, it felt like a shadow had been cleared from over Donnie’s heart, and now he wanted nothing more than to go home and hug his big brother for all his worth and apologize about a million and half times. Maybe more. Donnie hadn’t decided yet.

After they had finished their cup of tea, and LH had given Donnie one of his warmer college sweaters to wear before they took the subway back to the Hamato residence, where Mikey stood in front of the building, red-cheeked and shivering from the cold in a giant puff jacket and pajama bottoms, waiting for them.

Donnie didn't even wait, he ran the second he saw the familiar orange jacket that belonged to one of his favorite people on the planet and broke into a breakneck sprint, colliding into his older brother’s chest and waiting arms, and breaking into a choked cough when Mikey’s arms instantly wrapped around him like he always belonged there.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to run away!" Donnie rushed to say because he didn't want a second to go by without Mikey knowing that, but Mikey was already running a gentle hand through his hair and hushing into the crown of his head.

"Shhhh, shhhh it's ok, buddy. I know. I'm just glad you're home." And Mikey still had bags like bruises under his eyes, and looked on the point of breaking if Donnie hugged him too tightly, but he still smiled at Donnie with all the affection and warmth of the world when they pulled away, and Donnie couldn't fight the urge to spit out, "I don't hate it here! And I don't hate you. Ever! I'm sorry I said that. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry Mikey." And Mikey replied with a soft smile and an "I know, kiddo. It’s ok." But there was relief like a balloon losing helium in his eyes and shoulders, like he would have believed differently if Donnie hadn't said anything, and Donnie made the promise there and then that he’d do everything in his power to make sure Mikey never thought that way, even for a second, again. LH hadn't stayed over for the pizza movie night that Mikey offered as a silent ‘thanks for bringing my kid home’, so Mikey and Donnie saw him off at the subway station, and made the few blocks back to their waiting apartment and waiting little brothers with their arms around each other in a side hug. Neither one of them wanting to let each other out of their grasps. And there had been a promise to talk about it later, because Donnie was feeling a little more up for negotiation even though Mikey swore up and down that he’d back whatever Donnie decided to do 110%, but it could wait till another day, when both of their nerves and hearts weren't so tender and raw with emotion. Tonight, they would just sink into the weathered old couch that was softened by a million quilts, and out on a Mothra vs Godzilla movie, and squeeze themselves between an over-excited Raph, who couldn't stay still and just HAD to act out all the Godzilla fight scenes, and a relaxed Leo, who sprawled his legs over Donnie's lap despite Donnie complaining about it, but Donnie didn't make any effort to push him away because Leo kept keeping a wary and watchful eye on his two older brothers, probably knowing more about both sides than either one of them, and keeping his legs over Donnie was half for familiarity and half to keep him from jumping up and running out again and huh, maybe he wasn’t so relaxed after all. Guess Donnie had more than a million and a half apologies to make. Better round it off to a good 2 million, just to be safe. Because Donnie couldn't rightly blame him for keeping a careful eye out, but Donnie had learned his lesson. He wasn't running away again. He wasn't running anywhere if it was away from his brothers. Away from the only family he’s ever had. Because donnie was stubborn and stuck in his ways. And he wasn't going to quit the robotics club, and he wasn't going to skip grades and he wasn't going to leave Leo behind and he wasn't going to be left behind. Donnie wasn’t going to run away. Because Donnie wasnt going anywhere.

(one of the doodles I did for this particular story)

#my fic #big brother mikey au #bbm au #rottmnt human #rottmnt human au #rottmnt #tmnt #tmnt human #i have like 10 stories already written that i've shown zach about this au #and i'm just waiting for the excuse to post them because I don't want to spam you all #unless asked to #but anyway yeah #donnie's the one one who's ever ran away or has seen lh's place #and it's a tiiiiime

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tuanyiems · 4 years ago

Text

Champagne Truffles

Yugyeom x Reader (f) It’s a little angsty at the start oops but still this is a fluffy one, it’s me after all words: 4k plot: it’s your anniversary date night and he’s determined to make this a night you’ll never forget, established relationship!au a/n – Forgive this unedited piece, it’s 3am rn lulz I spent too much time gushing over got7 I had to take out the smut content to make the deadline lol but anyways, make sure to stream Last Piece as you’re reading!!! And this concludes my November of posting exclusively for Yugyeom! (It still counts as November if I haven’t slept yet!) And what a beautiful month it was! Thank you for following me on this Chocolatier journey, I’m sure these two will show up again in a drabble or two in the future. But until, please enjoy and give got7’s new album a listen if you haven’t already. It truly is another masterpiece album c’: // part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

“So, how was work today?” you start, climbing into bed where Yugyeom is already tucked in and scrolling on his phone. The bright light illuminates his face, and you pause, admiring his profile as you wait for him to answer.

But Yugyeom only shrugs, not even bothering to look at you. You grab your own phone from your nightstand, twisting it awkwardly around in your hands as you think of something else to say.

“It’s getting colder these days, isn’t it?” you ask softly, staring down at your phone as you flip it once more and watch it light up to a picture of you and Yugyeom at a carnival. It was one of those summertime, pop-up fairs. Yugyeom had convinced you to call in sick and the two of you made a trip an hour out from the city to play like two teenagers in love.

Your lips twist as you press your thumb into the screen where Yugyeom is holding your hand in his. Even when your hands were getting clammy from the summer heat and the nerves of waiting in line for the pirate ship, he had refused to let go.

“Nice try,” he had scoffed, before lifting his hand to kiss the back of yours. “If I let you go for even a second, you’ll definitely find a way to hurt yourself.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re so protective for the weirdest things.”

“Weird? Who was the one who fractured their wrist while bowling?”

You looked away, pretending not to hear.

“And who’s the girl who got a concussion while walking in a department store, hmm?”

“Hey! That time wasn’t my fault!” you pouted, allowing yourself to be tugged along as the line moved up. “Who puts such heavy items on the top shelf anyways?”

“But what normal person climbs the shelves?!”

“An! Independent! Woman!” You defended, slapping his chest with your free hand with each word.

He only laughed, eyes shining down on you. “You could’ve called for help, or oh I don’t know, asked your boyfriend to get it for you? I mean, what else is my height good for?”

“Eye candy, of course!”

“I’m just a piece of meat to you, aren’t I?” he joked, bumping you by the hip before quickly pulling you back into his chest.

You giggled, “Oh course not, babe. I’m obviously using you for our future offspring too. It’s my gracious consideration for future generations.”

“Future offspring?” Yugyeom’s cheeks blushed a rosy hue and as soon as you noticed, you followed suit.

“I mean! Uh-well…if…” you sucked in a breath, forcing your heart to calm. “Anyways, if they end up inheriting your height and my butterfingers, it’ll end up being a disservice to society actually.”

He chuckled, hand squeezing yours. “Probably,” he mused softly, cheeks still warm with daydreams.

When you turn your phone again, the screen flickers awake and there is his blushing face again, eyes twinkling with thoughts of the future…or, that’s what you always thought he was imagining when you look at this photo, but maybe you were just being delusional. It could’ve just been the summer heat making him flush.

The Yugyeom from that memory and the one sitting next to you feel like completely different people. You don’t understand what happened, only a few months had passed since that day. At first, you had summed up his quiet behavior to the changing season. It’s not like Yugyeom had never been quiet or moody before, but never has he iced you out like this for so long.

It makes you nervous actually. In two days, it’ll be your three-year anniversary. This is supposed to be a good thing of course, but in the back of your mind sits the nervous belief that something bad will happen on that day.

None of your previous relationships have ever lasted longer than a year. You and Yugyeom were always so stable that you never thought this would be a problem, but his sudden changes have made you more superstitious.

“Baby?” you utter softly, touching his wrist to put his phone down. He looks over but doesn’t say a word. “Um, I was wondering how you wanted to spend this Saturday? We haven’t really talked about it, so…”

Your voice trails. He looks at you almost fiercely, a slight frown on his lips.

You swallow. “Not that we have to do anything. Maybe we could just have a quiet day inside. We can marathon that anime you really like! What was the name again? With the cute pig?”

“Seven Deadly Sins,” he answers, looking back at his phone.

“Yeah, that one!” you say, voice much brighter than how you feel. “But…I was just suggesting. We can do what you want to do. Did you have something in mind? Food you’re craving?”

Yugyeom sighs, turning on his side to turn the lamp off. “It’s late, babe, let’s decide later.”

“Oh, okay.”

In the darkness, your worries fester though.

“Baby?” you whisper cautiously. Quietly, you curl against his back, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Goodnight, Gyeom.”

A moment passes before he twists in your arms and pulls you to his chest. You smile, looking up even though you can barely make out his features in the darkness.

“Night baby, I love you,” he presses a kiss to your forehead, and you find yourself relaxing in his arms.

That night you fall into a sleep so good, you end up missing your alarm.

Rushing around the apartment in only a forest green blouse and your nude hip huggers, you unpack your purse for the fifth time that morning.

“Babe, have you seen my charger?” You yell from the bedroom.

“It’s not in your purse?” Yugyeom calls from inside the bathroom.

You huff, throwing the items haphazardly back into your bag. “No!”

“Just take mines!”

“Thank you!”

Rounding the bed, you make your way to Yugyeom’s nightstand. Unlike your own though, his drawer is a disorganized mess. You furrow your brows, shifting through the old mail and random trinkets.

“How does he find anything in here?” you mutter, stuffing your hand to the back and hoping the wire was buried somewhere there.

“Y/N!” Yugyeoms voice booms from behind you. You jump in surprise. “Why are you going through my drawer?”

He snatches your hand out and slams his drawer shut.

“I-” You try to blink back your surprise. “I was just looking for the charger.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, bending behind the nightstand, and pulls the wire out.

“Here,” he tosses it into your hand before walking to your shared closet. “And don’t go through my things.”

Gaze on his back, you place the charger into your purse meekly. Grabbing your cream trousers from the bed, you quietly step into them as Yugyeom gets dressed too.

“Sorry,” you mumble when he finally turns to you.

He lets out a sigh, threading his fingers between yours. His thumb rubs over your hand gently. “I’m sorry too, I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Jackson,” you slide on your rolling chair towards your cubicle buddy, cup of hot chocolate between both palms.

“Uh oh,” Jackson looks at you once before twisting dramatically in his chair. “You’ve got the frowny face!”

“Frowny face?” Jinyoung pokes his head into your cubicle. Seeing your expression, he immediately walks into your cubicle, leaning onto Jackson’s desk. “Who do we need to hurt?”

“No one,” you sulk, stirring your drink. “I just had a question.”

“It was Susan, wasn’t it? I hate her,” Jinyoung scoffs, crossing his arms. Jackson chuckles, nudging him to stop.

“No, I was just wondering,” you pause, looking at your cream flats. “What are some signs when a guy no longer loves you?”

“I’m going to kill Yugyeom.”

“Why is murder always your go-to?” Jackson jokes, trying to lighten the mood. “It can’t be that bad, the last time I saw Yugyeom he was madly in love with you!”

“I just…I don’t know…it’s a feeling,” you frown, gut twisting as you’re speaking the words aloud. “It’s probably nothing.”

“Well, what signs have you been getting from Yugyeom?” Jinyoung asks.

“He’s just gotten quieter in the last couple of months. Sometimes it feels like he’s hiding something from me. Like last night, he was mostly on his phone even though I was trying to talk to him.”

“On his phone doing what?”

You tilt your head, shrugging. “I don’t know, Instagram? Twitter? But that’s not the point.”

“Wait, Instagram or Twitter, Y/N? Was he scrolling through news or was he sliding into DMs? These are important details,” Jinyoung interrupts. Both you and Jackson look at him with wide eyes.

You feel your heart jump to your throat. “Y-you think…maybe, he’s c-cheating on me?”

That thought had never even occurred to you as a possibility but now that you hear it…Your vision starts to blur.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N!” Jackson slaps Jinyoung’s thigh, pushing him away as he hurries to put an arm over your shoulder. “Jinyoung was just asking stupid questions. Yugyeom’s not that kind of guy.”

“But what if he’s right?” you mumble. “This morning I was looking in his drawer to borrow his charger and he yelled at me for going through his things. He’s never done that before! And every time I ask about his day, he won’t really tell me anything.”

You sniffle, rushing to wipe your falling tears.

“Don’t cry, Y/N,” Jinyoung pats your hand softly. “You’re probably just spiraling right now. I don’t know Yugyeom the way you do. He was probably just scrolling through pictures of tattoo art or something.”

“But he’s so handsome and amazing, he could have any girl he wants. What if he’s found someone better? Someone who doesn’t burn toast or, or-”

“Hey,” Jackson squeezes your arm with a frown. “We don’t tolerate that kind of talk in this house.”

“House?” Jinyoung chuckles.

“Our cubicle home!” Jackson clarifies, making you smile.

“Ah, I see a smile,” Jinyoung announces, making your lips stretch wider.

“My makeup is running, isn’t it?” you laugh weakly.

“Yeah, you’re a mess,” Jinyoung teases.

“Good time to ask Susan for an early weekend,” Jackson nudges you playfully.

“Yeah, leave early and go have a real conversation with Yugyeom about how you’re feeling. No use in holding things in if it’s just going to make you cry anyways.”

“Someone’s crying?” Susan, your project manager, pokes her head into your cubicle. When she sees your state, she gasps. “Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m okay,” you flush with embarrassment.

“Nonsense, you should let her start the weekend early, Susan,” Jinyoung states before smiling at her sweetly. “And as her favorite co-workers, you should let us join her!”

“Nice try, Jinyoung,” she laughs goodheartedly, before turning to you. “You two have to stay, but Y/N, you’re free to go. Come back Monday, feeling better, okay?”

She sends you a wink before striding off.

“I hate her so much,” Jinyoung grumbles.

“You gotta stop lying to yourself, man,” Jackson laughs. He turns to you and pulls you into a hug. “Go and talk to him, Y/N. The longer you wait it out, the longer you’ll just be running circles in your head.”

You nod, convinced. “Alright, I’ll do that. Thanks guys.”

“Call me if you need a hitman!” Jinyoung calls as you rush out of the cubicle.

“Hey, why are you calling at this hour?”

“I just missed you,” you hum into the phone, as you walk down the familiar sidewalk towards your favorite chocolate store. “How’s work?”

“Um, actually,” there’s a pause on the other line before he continues, “It’s kind of busy. Probably be home late today.”

“Oh, okay,” you put on a tone of disappointment as you round the corner to the store. You snicker to yourself. Maybe surprising him at work and helping him with the shop will pick his mood up.

“Yeah, sorry, but you know this time of year. People like to eat chocolates.”

You smile to yourself, slowing your step as you reach the storefront. “Yeah, I know. It’s how I met you.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” you chuckle.

“Anyways, I really have to go now.”

“O-” You freeze, staring into the window of the chocolate store. “Okay.”

“Bye,” Yugyeom doesn’t wait for you to reply before he cuts off the line. You barely register the dead phone line though. You gulp, watching as your best friend, Jenny, pulls Yugyeom into a tight hug between the counter. In her arms, he smiles with full cheeks.

Stepping back, you cross the street in a rush, collapsing into a seat outside the French café across from Yugyeom’s store before your legs give out entirely.

This doesn’t make sense. While Jenny was one of your closest friends, she and Yugyeom weren’t especially close. This was partially due to the fact that Jenny lives in another city two hours away from yours. Yugyeom has never expressed any interest in spending time with your friends unless you were with him, and so things just don’t add up.

Jenny never sent you a text that she’d be in town, especially on a Friday. Just as you’re about to go through the text messages in your phone just in case, you see the door of the chocolate store open and out walks Yugyeom and Jenny. They’re so deep in their own conversation, they don’t even glance at you, right across the street from them.

You take in a breath, shaking your head. This just doesn’t make sense. Getting up again, you make your way down the street, watching them from across. Maybe Jenny needed a special order of chocolates. Was there a birthday you were forgetting?

You stop in your tracks, watching as Jenny practically jumping with excitement alongside Yugyeom. She must’ve said something funny, because he tilts his head back, mouth open wide, the same way he always laughs at you when you make a stupid joke.

Shaking your head again, you continue your steps. No, Jenny is a trusted friend. You’ve known her since high school. But the longer you follow, the more your stomach starts to hurt. It’s exactly because you’ve known Jenny for so long that you know she would never be this animated with your boyfriend.

Your chest hurt at just the thought, but you can’t help it from echoing in your brain. That the two of them look too comfortable—like they’ve been meeting for a while.

Biting your lip hard, you stop in your tracks again and force yourself to turn around. No, this just didn’t add up. And you didn’t want to trail after them like some kind of stalker.

You trust Yugyeom and you trust Jenny.

Hailing the nearest cab, you enter with a huff. It was like Jinyoung said, you were probably just spiraling.

“I’m home,” Yugyeom calls softly as he enters the house. You freeze in your seat at the kitchen table, despite having sat there for three hours for this very moment.

“Hey,” Yugyeom peeks his head into the kitchen, looking at you with furrowed eyes. “What are you doing just sitting here by yourself?”

You chuckle dryly, trying to shake off your nerves. “Oh, I guess I was just spacing out.”

He smiles at you before sitting down in the chair across from you. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, everything’s okay,” you lie. “How was work?”

“It was fine. Busy as usual,” Yugyeom shrugs. “What did you have for dinner?”

“I made pasta. There’s leftovers in the fridge for you.”

“It’s okay, I’m stuffed already.”

“Oh? You ate?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow wide before he is blinking away, running his fingers through his hair. “Uh, yeah, um…Bambam, he bought me dinner.”

“That was nice of him,” you mumble. You breathe loudly, trying to keep yourself collected despite feeling like you were going to vomit with each second that passes.

He chuckles before raising his voice abruptly. “Anyways! Let’s talk about tomorrow!”

“Tomorrow? Did you have something in mind?” your chest jolts with hope.

“Actually, I was thinking you could have a girl’s day with Jenny! And then we could do something in the evening.”

“Jenny’s in town?” you watch him closely, noticing the way he licks at his lips and swallows.

“Oh! Yeah! I uh, I heard it from Bam. He must’ve seen a story update from her or something.”

You dig your nail into the cuticle bed of your thumbs as you listen to him lie straight to your face.

“Jenny didn’t text me though. She probably has something else going on this weekend.”

“Nope!” Yugyeom whips, smiling far too big for this conversation. “I messaged her about tomorrow already.”

“So, you want me to hang out with Jenny…on our anniversary?” You question slowly.

Yugyeom looks away, his ears flushed. He brushes at your hand. “Yeah, you two should catch up, get your nails done or something. You should really stop doing this to your nails.”

You look to your hands, your nail beds raw.

“I’m tired,” you mutter, getting up from your seat first. “I’m gonna go to bed first.”

“Oh, okay…well, just remember, you and Jenny at noon!”

You don’t answer.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Jenny turns to you with concern as the nail technician keeps her right hand hostage. “Is something bothering you?”

“Why are you in town again?” you ask, eyes concentrated on the deep red shade that your nail tech paints onto your fingernails.

“Oh!” In your peripheral, you can see her noticeably jolt. “I came for a conference on Friday and when Yugyeom reached out to me I decided to stay for the weekend.”

“A conference, huh?”

“Yeah,” she mumbles, turning back to her technician. “You know how much the beauty industry loves their conventions.”

“Must’ve been draining.”

“Yeah, totally. That’s why I didn’t text you I was in town. I was completely exhausted by the end of it that I completely forgot.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Mhm,” she turns back to you. “You should add a gold accent. Gold accent, please!”

Your nail tech nods, bringing out another tray of gold embellishment from underneath her desk. You turn your head, hearing the click of Jenny’s nails on the screen of her phone. There’s a bright smile on her face and it makes you want to burst into tears on the spot.

At first you thought maybe the two of them planned for Jenny to reveal the truth to you. You didn’t think Yugyeom was a coward but lately, none of the things you thought before make sense anymore. However, after hours spent with Jenny, all you’ve managed was getting prettier nails and lots of lies from who you thought was your best friend.

“Gorgeous,” Jenny coos, leaning in to admire your fingers.

“Yeah,” you murmur half-heartedly, feeling your spirit fully deplete.

No confession comes. No explanation. When evening comes, Jenny sends you right back home. Your walk up to the apartment is slow. This is it, isn’t it? Gyeom needed time to prepare himself to break up with you. It’s why he didn’t want to be with you for your anniversary.

Your stomach sinks when you get to your door. Was this your last time ever entering? Where were you going to move to?

As the familiar tone of the keypad rings in your ear, hot tears prick at your eyes. Stepping into the house, your vision blurs as you step through the hallway and into the kitchen. Yugyeom is standing at the stove when he turns to you with a smile.

“You’re back!” he greets you. When you hear his laughter, tears spill down your cheeks. “Crying already, babe? You haven’t even tasted it.”

Hiccupping, you try to calm yourself but the more you try to contain the tears, the more your chest fills with fear and floods you. You cry even harder, a terrible wail leaving your throat.

The sound of tin crashes onto the floor and quickly, you are enveloped in Yugyeom’s warmth. The feeling only makes you more sick and you bury your face into his chest, crying harder. Your last embrace. Your last time being comforted by him. The thoughts send sharp pains straight to your chest.

Yugyeom holds you tight against him, taking the impact of your shaking body to his chest. “Baby, what’s wrong? Are you hurt somewhere?”

It’s a long time before you feel calm enough to stand on your own. When you finally do, stepping back from his arms, you feel yourself tearing up again from seeing the concern on his face.

“What happened?” he whispers, fingers reaching out for yours.

You pull away though, taking another step back.

“Yugyeom,” your voice comes out shaky but determined. “Are we breaking up?”

Tears spill again.

Yugyeom looks at you with a shocked expression. “What? Where is this coming from?”

“You don’t love me anymore,” you cry.

“Of course I do! What are you talking about?”

“Then why did you lie to me?” You look at him sharply, gaze severe despite the shine of tears. He doesn’t say anything, and the silence breaks your heart.

Lips quivering, you sit down at the kitchen table. “You lied to me. Jenny lied to me…H-how long? How long have you been doing this?”

“Baby,” Yugyeom whispers, bending to the floor. He rests his hands on your thighs, looking up at you and there are tears in his eyes two. “Baby…baby, you’ve got this all wrong.”

“Even if it’s not Jenny, it’s still not me, is it?” you whimper, tears spilling down your chin. They splatter on the back of his hands. “You don’t talk to me anymore. You don’t want to share anything with me. Not even stories about your day.”

Tears run down Yugyeom’s cheeks as he presses a kiss to your knee.

“No, no, baby, you’re wrong.”

You sniff, cupping your palm to his wet cheek. “I want to be wrong. Please prove me wrong, Gyeom.”

“I was trying to keep it a secret,” he scoffs to himself, shaking his head. “I was planning this for months.”

“Planning?”

“I was so afraid I’d accidentally let it slip, or that you’d find it.”

You frown, brows furrowing in confusion now. “Find what, Gyeom?”

Yugyeom takes in a deep breath, breaking into a gentle smile as he glances down at the kitchen floor. Following his gaze, you realize he had dropped a tray of chocolates earlier.

“Chocolates?”

“Champagne Truffles,” he tells you, reaching down to grab one.

“You…you made a new recipe?”

Yugyeom lets out a loud sigh. “Good thing I marked it.”

You look at him, bewildered. He chuckles softly, turning to you again.

“I’m not going to break up with you, baby,” he laughs, digging his thumb into the spine of the chocolate until it bursts with a pop. “I’m trying to spend my whole life with you.”

Your hands to fly to your mouth in surprise as a fresh wave of tears spring to your eyes. He drops the chocolate shell to the floor, holding onto the shining gold band with shaking hands.

“Every day since meeting you,” his voice breaks and you cry, hands coming to cup his face as tears run down his cheeks too. “I thought I had a good life, and then I met you…And then I realized, I was missing everything before you came into my life.”

“Gyeom,”

He sniffs, breaking into a smile as more tears fall from his eyes. “Baby, you’re my everything. You’re the first person I want to tell anything to. You don’t know how hard it’s been trying to keep this from you.”

You laugh with him, “And Jenny.”

He nods. “She was helping me pick out the ring, plan the event, pick the flowers.”

You grin, pressing your forehead to his. “You bought me flowers!”

He laughs, nose brushing softly against yours. “Yeah, and a ring too…if you want it.”

“I do, I do, I do,” you giggle against him as your tears wet his cheek.

He chuckles, breath ghosting your lips.

“Not yet, baby, that one’s for the wedding,” he chuckles and you laugh with him.

“Either way, it’s I do.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #got7 series #fluff #angst #writing #fanfiction #le chocolatier series

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