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luvdsc · 5 months ago

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barbie girl.

if life is plastic (and therefore, nonbiodegradable), then it’s so not fantastic. honestly, who came up with that? regina george really should’ve googled about the new plastics economy.

or alternatively, pretty girls rule the world, and you find out that he’s (not) all that.

pairing :: na jaemin x reader genre :: comedy, fluff, angst ⋮ makeover + college au word count :: 24,618 words warnings :: body issues, body image, weight mentions, insecurities, beauty is a social construct, [spoiler] did something bad, people being literal scum, so much gaslighting that you can start a wildfire and j*ke gyll*nh*al should take notes, “if a man talks shit then i owe him nothing” playlist :: pretty boys (romi) ⋆ you can’t sit with us (sunmi) ⋆ i just wanna know (katherine li) ⋆ lie to girls (sabrina carpenter) ⋆ look what you made me do (taylor swift) ⋆ leftover feelings (regina song) ⋆ number one girl (rosé) + extended playlist here. author’s note :: she’s all that is one of my most favorite rom coms ever, but i’ve always been ///: at the whole makeover idea and decided to write my own version !! the idols mentioned in this fic are just characters, and how i portray them in this fic do not reflect how i actually view them or their irl personas. as always, much love to miss lana and miss moon for being my biggest cheerleaders ᥫ᭡ ↳ part of the 𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔲𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 collaboration series.

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

Good looking, charismatic, and popular — it’s his world, and you’re just living in it. Or something like that. You’re decently smart, somewhat funny, and not pretty enough to stand out, but not exactly hideous according to societal standards (source: those beauty quizzes in Seventeen magazine that you used to be obsessed with when you were thirteen and in desperate need of flirting tips). If he was the main lead, you’d probably be Extra #6, maybe Extra #2 on a good day.

By your calculations, the two of you should never cross paths, like two parallel lines. Wait, scratch that, you would probably never be aligned with anything that has to do with this guy. You saw him standing outside of the door of your shared accounting classroom during your fall semester, and he spent twenty five minutes editing his picture for Instagram and ended up late for the lecture. And he probably already spent even more time selecting the final photo to edit before you arrived to class and noticed him. Absolute idiot. Absolute handsome idiot, but idiot nonetheless. A grade A himbo with a grade C in financial accounting.

Okay, so scrap the parallel lines theory, maybe skew lines are a better way of explaining it. Yeah, that seems about right, the two of you are from completely different dimensions, never meant to interact or run parallel with each other. And once again, by this logic, your paths should never cross.

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

You suddenly remember that there was that one small group presentation in that very same aforementioned accounting class, and you were assigned to the same group as Jaemin. Armed with this rediscovered memory, you are going to revise your earlier response and say that the correct descriptor for your relationship is perpendicular lines. That sounds right. Final answer. You’re locking it in.

Your paths should have only intersected once, the two of you should be going in different directions, and even though you’re in another class with him again for spring semester this year (since all freshmen with a business major has to take the same Gen. Ed. classes), not once have the two of you had a proper conversation with each other (He asked you to pass a note one time, but that barely counts). Jaemin should have forgotten you by now, and you should be continuing on with your side character life that you’re very much content with.

So then why on earth is he shouting your name like you’re old friends and causing what feels like every person within a one mile radius to stare at you?

He’s unknowingly giving you your main character moment, and you very quickly realize that you do not feel like the Y/N in any one of those Gojo fanfics you read religiously at three in the morning when you should really be studying or sleeping.

Instead, you feel like a bug watching its impending doom as a Doc Marten boot starts to descend at an alarming speed and you can’t even try to scuttle out of the way to avoid it. Frozen in your spot, you can only watch as your university’s it boy skids to a stop in front of you after running across the grass and flashing you his million dollar smile. “Hey, Y/N, right? We have ECON 13 together.”

Starstruck, your mind to mouth filter is completely shot, and all you manage to let out is a very uncool “Uh huh.”

He laughs a little breathlessly, and you feel like all the oxygen has been knocked out of your lungs, too. Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, Jaemin tilts his head to the side slightly, the sunlight catching his profile perfectly, and your breath hitches in your throat once more.

“I know this is gonna sound really, uh, forward since we barely know each other and all, but—”

You’re barely listening to him, your heart pounding in your chest and the blood rushing to your ears. It’s pretty embarrassing to see how a mere stranger with a pretty face can affect you this much. You really thought you had a much stronger willpower than this, but it’s so goddamn unfair how this boy standing in front of you has the most perfectly sculpted face you’ve ever seen. Plus, his eyelashes? Why the hell do boys always get the prettiest, thickest, and darkest lashes?

Meanwhile, you’re out here struggling to force your perpetually straight, stubby lashes into a curl that ends up lasting only a couple hours, even when you use waterproof mascara. You still end up with flat lashes and you have to feverishly scrub your eyes to remove the blasted makeup and lose a few cherished lashes in the process.

“—with me?” Jaemin finishes, and you belatedly realize that you did not catch a single word that he said, too caught up in your inner monologue and too busy ogling. However, your heart flutters in your chest when you catch the last part of his question. Not to be too presumptuous, but it sounds like he’s asking you out. Why else would anyone randomly stop you like this and talk to you for this long? You’re positively giddy at this revelation. This is your moment, the one you’ve been waiting for your whole life, like Rapunzel waiting in her tower for the one to come and save her from her horribly mundane, repetitive life.

“Oh! Um… yes?” It’s a 50/50 chance between yes or no, and you hope that’s the correct answer he’s looking for.

Jaemin’s face immediately brightens, and he turns his smile up another kilowatt, nearly blinding you. You grin back at him, squinting a little. This must be how Icarus felt when he flew towards the sun.

“Oh shit, really? You’re really agreeing to tutor me? Hyuck—you know, our class’s peer TA—said I was a hopeless cause, and I would need way more one on one lessons outside of his hours and all that if I wanted to pass. And yeah, I know I could probably bitch at him until he caves since we’re kind of friends, but he would also hold this over my head, but he said you had the highest score on last week’s practice midterm, so I thought, ‘hey, why not shoot my shot?’” He directs another smile your way, pausing for a quick breath. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, and his smile isn’t helping whatsoever as your heart decides to join in this race as well until it sinks when you finally process his words.

“Wait, Donghyuck said that about me?” you manage to get out, a little dazed, and Jaemin confirms before eagerly continuing on with his chatter, but all you can do is stupidly nod as the word “TUTOR” spins around and around in your mind in bold, italicized, underlined mocking red letters in Times New Roman font, size 12, double spaced, MLA format, the whole shebang.

Of course, he only wants a tutor. What made you think that a boy like him would look twice at a girl like you? The only other time a guy has ever expressed interest in you is to share homework answers for Calculus back in 10th grade (For the record, all of his answers were completely wrong, but Sungchan was a cute distraction. Actually, the two of you became very good friends once you very quickly got over the fact that you were firmly placed in the friendzone. He’s even dating one of your best friends now).

“Anyways, can I have your number? I can text you to match our schedules and figure out the times to meet up for the next couple of weeks before our next midterm.” You remain wide eyed, gazing at him like a deer caught in the headlights and still attempting to fully understand everything that has just happened.

Jaemin looks at you expectantly, his hand outstretched towards you with his phone tucked between his fingers. The device dangles there for an additional ten seconds that probably isn’t socially acceptable. Grab the phone, you scream at yourself silently, but your body doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. You blink slowly once. Then twice.

“Or, I can just… uh, type in your number if you tell me,” Jaemin says awkwardly, his smile wilting slightly as he shifts from one foot to the other under your unwavering gaze and slowly retracting his hand. Finally, you come to your senses as you quickly spring into action and snatch the phone from him, tapping in your digits and adding in your name and shared class before saving your contact.

“Here,” you mutter, returning his phone, and he gives you a relieved grin. You clutch onto the strap of your backpack a little tighter, cursing the way your heart skips a beat. “I should be free most weekday afternoons since I prefer to take all morning classes, but let me know when you’re free and we can work something out.”

“Awesome! Thank you so much, Y/N, you’re a life saver.” Jaemin beams at you, touching your shoulder briefly and you feel that very same place on your body erupt in flames as your face heats up in a similar manner. “I’ll text you tonight, yeah?”

You can only numbly nod, subconsciously raising your hand and waving at him, and Jaemin chuckles, flashing his pearly whites at you again, before he saunters off and blends into a group of other equally pretty and popular students, a few of whom look over at you with vague interest before turning their attention back to the boy who just joined them.

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

Flicking her long dark hair over her shoulder, Lana takes a long sip of her wintermelon milk tea with honey pearls, a spitting image of that one infamous Starbucks meme of your school’s alumni, Hyungwon (His picture can still be found floating through discord chats, and you’re ninety percent sure your school used it in one of their recruitment brochures at one point). She’s sprawled out on the beanbag in the corner of your shared apartment’s living room, her HP laptop covered in sailor moon stickers balanced across her thighs (She swears HP is the best laptop brand, but you don’t trust electronics advice from anyone who can’t even use a toaster properly).

“Have you even spoken to Jaemin? How exactly are you getting sus vibes from him?” Moon jumps in, glancing over the top of her MacBook as she takes a quick break from her latest coding project regarding polynomials, matrices, and a bunch of other math terminology you rather not think about. You left all that arithmetic jargon back in high school after you got a 5 on both AP calculus exams and got to skip all required math classes for your accounting major (Sungchan wasn’t so lucky).

“He’s a fratboy finance major.” Lana rolls her eyes.

“Point taken, but weren’t you into that senior, Jaehyun? He’s one of them. You called him your soulmate,” you interject, and she splutters for a few seconds before putting her hand up in protest.

“Listen, I was going through a perpetual mental breakdown at the beginning of this semester. It doesn’t count. You try being a pharmacy major. Thank god I switched out to English. My mental state was compromised, and I wasn’t thinking straight.”

“What do you mean not thinking straight? Lana, you literally chose the straightest, most heterosexual man out there.” Moon jibes, closing her laptop now with an air of conceding defeat. You have to give her props for trying to work on some assignments, but you already knew no one was going to get any work done tonight. It’s a Thursday night anyway, which means you have until Tuesday to get all the homework assigned today done. You can always work on them on Monday night and inevitably curse yourself for not getting it done earlier when you end up pulling an all nighter and show up to your 8 a.m. international marketing tactics class with raccoon eyes.

“This is bullying, and we are on an anti-bullying campus,” Lana complains, giving the two of you the stink eye before leaning over and lightly shoving the snoozing boy sprawled across the floor next to her. “Wake up, Yang. Moon and Y/N gang up on me when you’re not awake to absorb all our gentle bullying.”

The boy in question sits upright, bleary eyes and the drying ink from his notes now decorating his cheek, a lasting reminder of the makeshift pillow for his impromptu nap. Yawning, he stretches his arms, rubbing his face and making an even bigger mess of smears. “What’d I miss?”

“We were just discussing Lana‘s tragic crush on Jaehyun last year,” you say, and she makes a strangled noise next to you. “Were you up late sewing again?”

“Yes,” Yangyang grumbles, “You would think Kaneki would be so easy to cosplay since he wears all black, but the mask is taking forever to make.”

“Can’t one of your sugar daddies buy one for you?”

“What sugar daddies? If I had one, I wouldn’t be stuck in here trying to balance equations,” he moans, crumpling up another sheet filled up with scribbles and his latest attempts at answering the second to last problem for organic chemistry.

“My bad, I thought you would have some from your cosplay account.” Moon shrugs, rummaging through her large soccer mom purse for a snack and triumphantly pulling out a box of green tea Hello Pandas. “You have like 100k followers on there.”

“My audience demographic is weebs.” Yangyang deadpans. “How many weebs do you know who are rich enough to send five thousand dollars every week to a struggling college student?”

“Wait, we’re going off topic right now. What do you know about Jaemin, Yang?” Lana cuts in, and Moon nods in agreement (You try not to look too interested, but fail miserably, no doubt).

“Jaemin Na? I’ve never talked to him personally, but there’s always stories about him and his friends. Jeno is on the baseball team and notorious for his body count. He’s the one that takes up like 30% of our university’s anonymous confessions Twitter account. This is his insta, but he’s not really active on social media.” Yangyang passes his phone around for the three of you to see Jeno’s Instagram. There’s a whopping total of fourteen posts, and every picture of him with someone of the opposite sex features a different girl. Instant red flag.

“Lia is pretty big on Tik Tok,” Yangyang continues, grabbing his phone to pull up her account to show all of you. “She’s pretty and is actually really good at singing, but she's basically trying to be the next Addison Rae. Jimin models, and she’s going by Karina nowadays. I heard she tried to trademark that name or something. She posts dancing Tik Toks. She and Yeonjun collab a lot. He walks for New York fashion week and has a Tik Tok for dancing, too. I’m like 70% sure they’re only dating to boost their views. Somi is the most popular one out of them. She’s the blonde one. She’s pretty talented and I heard she signed onto the same company as the Blackpink House. She’s even done a makeup video with Vogue recently.”

“And Jaemin has a pretty large social following. He takes decent pictures, and that’s what he insists his insta is for, but let’s be real, the majority of his followers are there for his face. You should see his TikTok. He literally just recorded himself looking at the camera and put some generic caption, and he racked up like seven hundred thousand likes,” Yangyang grumbles, pulling up his account to show you all the video in question. “Like literally, what the hell is this? I have to put in so many hours making my outfits and editing my videos and all he does is smile and paste ‘Don’t have a valentine again… hope this will change soon’ on top, and the preteens are foaming at the mouth.”

“Wow, jumpscare warning next time you show me him please.” Lana wrinkles her nose at the repeating offensive clip. Yangyang merely shoves his phone even closer to her in response, and she flips him off.

“Hey, you’re the one who asked about him. Why are you suddenly interested in him? Is this your Jaehyun 2.0 phase starting up?” Yangyang grins, and Lana flicks his forehead in retaliation.

“Shut up, when are you guys gonna let that die? Besides, it’s Y/N who’s interested, not me,” Lana retorts, and immediately, the spotlight is back on you. You cough awkwardly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with all the attention.

“Uh, he just asked if I would tutor him…”

“And you said yes?” Yangyang sounds scandalized and utterly betrayed. “Why would you willingly fraternize with the enemy like that?”

“What enemy? I didn’t even know he knew I existed until this very recent development occurred.”

“Influencers like him are instant enemies to me, and as my friend, he’s your enemy by association. I can't believe you’re helping the competition,” Yangyang sniffs.

You don’t have the guts to tell them all that the only reason you accepted his tutor proposal is because you got ahead of yourself and despite all the odds and signs, thought Jaemin was asking you out. You know your friends won’t make fun of you (too badly), but that is completely humiliating, and you will be taking that to the grave.

“It’s just tutoring, don’t be so dramatic,” you scoff, making a face at him. “He texted me yesterday, and we’re meeting up at the library later today, and I reserved a private study room for two hours.”

“Oooh, so it’s a study date?” Moon teases, and your cheeks betray you with the amount of heat now emanating off of them.

“Shut up, it’s literally just tutoring. We’re going over supply and demand curves.”

“No, back up, he texted you yesterday and you didn’t tell us about him until today?” Lana interjects, holding up her hand and putting on a faux offended expression. “What kind of friend are you? We’re supposed to tell each other every nitty gritty detail about our love lives! Like Sungchan texts Moon good morning texts at eight in the morning, and by 8:30 a.m., we’re already getting a play by play about it in the group chat!”

Moon turns pink and opens her mouth before deciding against it and quietly shuts it. Yangyang silently laughs next to Lana, his shoulders shaking (You decide that you shouldn’t tell them Jaemin actually asked you in person to tutor him three days ago or else, Lana will chew you out even more).

You protest, flailing your arms around slightly in exasperation. “There’s literally zero development in my love life! I have nothing going on in it, and I can guarantee you that he does not see me in that light whatsoever.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.” Lana looks wholly unconvinced, and your two friends look back and forth between the two of you like two kids watching their divorced parents fight. “So… Do you need help picking out an outfit for tomorrow?”

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!”

Jaemin loudly whispers a little breathlessly as he drops his bag onto the table and slumps into the chair next to yours, his chest heaving slightly. Startled, you jerk up in your chair, heart skipping a beat when you realize he’s here. You were supposed to be in a private study room, but there was a group of boys already in there, and as the most non-confrontational person to walk this earth, you decided to cut your losses and take a table nearby.

“Did you wait long? I got caught up outside the library when Somi stopped me and completely forgot,” he says apologetically, pulling out his textbooks, and you shake your head, giving him a shy smile.

“No, it’s alright. I was already here anyway, and I got some extra studying done.” You gesture towards the papers and notebooks strewn across the table’s surface, covered in your notes from today’s classes. “Should we start with today’s lesson? How much did you understand in class today?”

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

You pause, glancing over at him. “Professor Hwang was ten minutes late to class.”

“Exactly.” Jaemin nods, and you stifle a laugh. He grins at you. “I don’t think you realize how much of a hopeless cause I am when you agreed to tutor me.”

“We can start from the beginning then. You have four weeks until the midterm, and we can go through every lesson we’ve had so far. I’ll make up a study schedule if you give me yours. And if you continue to go to Donghyuck’s tutoring hours too, you should hopefully be able to catch up and do well on the midterm.”

Jaemin wordlessly pulls up his class schedule on his phone, and you plug them into a Google calendar that you quickly share to his email. “So, I color coded your classes in green, and my classes are in pink. Do you have any other things that we need to work around?”

He peers over at your screen, scanning the contents. “I have my weekly frat meetings on Tuesday nights and mandatory events on other nights.”

“Alright, you can put them in and we’ll figure out meeting times,” you say, pushing your laptop towards him and he starts to add in his extracurricular activities.

“Party from 8 pm to 1 am?” you read skeptically, your eyes scanning over the event he tacked in under this week’s Friday.

“Yeah, can’t miss it,” Jaemin says, typing in more events and making sure to color code them in blue. “Don’t you have things to do on Friday night too?”

“Uh, maybe grab a poke bowl from the dining hall to go and watch another Banana Fish episode,” you say awkwardly, fiddling with the small Gojo keychain you have attached to your pouch.

Jaemin stops, looking over at you. “You watch Banana Fish?”

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?”

His eyes light up and he asks eagerly, “Did you see the latest episode? When Golzine leaves Arthur in charge?”

The two of you continue discussing the plot as he finishes up adding in his schedule for the next four weeks, finally nudging the laptop back towards you. “Do you need to add in your stuff too?”

“Mm no, it’s fine. I already put in my classes, and I’m not in any clubs or sororities,” you answer, making sure to input Donghyuck’s tutoring hours as well before scanning over the calendar and pinpointing areas where he’s free for at least one to two hours. “Okay, should we start with meeting three times a week?”

“Huh, you memorized Hyuck’s hours?” Jaemin notes, giving you a sly smile as he moves closer to look at the schedule.

“Huh? No, don’t you always know your professors’ and TAs’ office hours?” you ask, looking up and are immediately startled after underestimating the proximity between you and the beautiful boy next to you.

“No, I’m not a nerd,” he snorts lightly, and you laugh awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation in a different direction and put a little more distance between the two of you before you go into cardiac arrest, “Right, yeah, well, anyway—”

“You were also interested when I said Hyuck mentioned you before,” Jaemin says suddenly, sitting up straight before a wide grin spreads across his face as he loudly exclaims, “You totally have a crush on him!”

“Quiet down!” You immediately shush him, the tips of your ears burning as everyone within a 40 feet radius in the library is now staring at the two of you. You’ve never received this much attention before, and you very quickly realize that you absolutely hate it. You loudly whisper-protest, stumbling over your words in a panic, “I—I don’t have a crush on him!”

“Oh, come on, your face is getting hot and you’re stuttering. You do too like him,” Jaemin laughs softly, propping his elbow onto the table and resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he gives you a once over. “I could totally make you into his type.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You ask hotly, cheeks burning even more when you feel his eyes graze over your figure.

“Oh, it’ll be so much fun. We can go to the mall and pick out some cute clothes for you, and then swing by the hair shop. You’re definitely using the wrong conditioner and shampoo,” Jaemin continues, eying your hair for a quick second.

“Wait, wait, we’re just here for tutoring, what are you even talking about?” You ask, bewildered before grasping a stray strand of your hair between your fingers. “And what do you mean I’m using the wrong shampoo?”

“And conditioner,” Jaemin pipes up, picking up his phone to search up some better brands he would recommend. “What have you been using? 2 in 1 Head and Shoulders?”

“No,” you huff softly, your ears growing even warmer at the accusation. “I just use whatever my mom buys in bulk at Costco.”

“Okay, well, you should use this instead,” Jaemin says, showing his phone screen to you, and your eyes widen slightly when you note the price tag.

“I cannot be forking over nearly seventy dollars on shampoo and conditioner,” you say incredulously, pushing his phone back towards him and waving your hand dismissively. “And there’s no way I’m going to spend even more money on new clothes.”

“Okay, fine, I think I have some unopened bottles from sponsored deals that I can give to you,” Jaemin sighs, opening up his text messages to find his friends’ group chat. “Or my friends would have some good ones, too. Maybe we can get you some of their free clothes from sponsorships, too.”

“You guys just get free clothes?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, glancing over at you. “On second thought, Karina and Lia aren’t the same size as you, so you won’t fit them. We can just order some basic pieces online or something for starters.”

“We—We aren’t doing this,” you loudly whisper back to him, hyper aware of the other students around you who keep glancing over at Jaemin. “Let’s just focus on making this schedule and helping you pass your midterm.”

“Oh, please, doll, it’d be fun. Just think of it as a payment for your tutoring,” Jaemin persuades you, scooting closer to you and pressing his thigh against yours lightly. Your breath hitches in your throat at the pet name and his touch. You’ve never been this close to any boy before, let alone one as attractive as Jaemin.

“You’ll look so pretty, I know the perfect outfits to make for you. And I can teach you how to get Hyuck’s attention, too,” he continues, nudging you lightly, and you’re still dazed, unable to get over the fact that he’s impossibly close to you, close enough for you to count the pretty lashes framing his even prettier eyes. You wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful, what it’s like to have people falling at your feet, what it’s like to mesmerize everyone the second you walk into a room.

Honestly, if Jaemin asked you to jump, your only response would be “how high.”

“If I agree to this, will you finally pay attention?” you sigh, and Jaemin instantly brightens up, nodding and giving you another one of those smiles that makes your stomach flip flop. Your Achilles’ heel is one very persistent boy who goes by the name of Na Jaemin, and he has hit you with a direct bullseye.

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

You hesitate for a split second before relenting. “Okay, fine, deal.”

iv. i’m a barbie girl in the barbie world.

Jaemin is easy on the eyes, but currently proving to be very difficult for your nerves during your fourth tutoring session. Your wardrobe has increased in style and size by now, and you’re dressed in a pretty lilac top that wraps around you and accentuates your curves and hides what needs to be hidden perfectly. Your jeans may dig a little more than you’d like into your stomach, but it’s your fault that you chose to wear your photo jeans instead of your sitting jeans. Also, your hair has never looked better, all thanks to the boy seated next to you.

“No, when there is a low supply, there’s a high demand. They directly affect each other,” you try to re-explain to the boy next to you, drawing out the line graph once again. He stares down at the familiar graph before looking at the written practice problem in front of him. Professors must have an insane amount of patience, you silently think to yourself.

You sigh. “Let’s put it this way. You and Jeno want to buy the same shirt, but there’s only one left in the right size. So that’s two people who are demanding the one shirt. And the store only has one shirt in its supply. So how would you describe this situation?”

“Oh.” The look of realization flashes across Jaemin’s face as your example easily snaps the puzzle pieces into place for him. “There’s a high demand and low supply. Too many people want the shirt, but there’s not enough shirts.”

“Yes, you got it!” You cheer quietly, mindful of your location at one of the library’s tables. “Now try reading through the practice problems and draw the appropriate supply and demand graphs for each one.”

“And when I’m done with this, we can take a break, and I’ll teach you how to do makeup. My friends will help,” Jaemin says idly as he reads through the first problem again.

Your stomach lurches slightly at that, and you hesitate. “Your friends?”

“Yeah, you know, Jeno, Karina, Lia, and Yeonjun. Somi, too, but she’s been busy. I can teach you basic skincare and makeup, but the girls will have to help you with the rest,” he says casually, scrawling down his first answer and the corresponding graph.

You swallow hard, your voice croaking slightly before you hastily clear it. “Are you sure? Do you think they’ll like me?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, doll. You’re like a puppy, and everyone likes those,” Jaemin mumbles idly, eyebrows furrowing as he rereads the second problem.

“A puppy?” You don’t know whether to be offended or not yet.

Oh, you know, just that you’re cute and all,” Jaemin laughs lightly, starting to write down his next answer, and your heart nearly stops in your chest. You force yourself to breathe regularly again.

“Oh, I see,” you start to answer coolly, but stuttering on the last word, internally cursing your tongue at the last stumble. You try to sit calmly and relax for the rest of the tutoring session as Jaemin slowly makes his way through the practice packet, but the knot in your stomach continues to tangle even more, growing ever bigger. Maybe you should just tell Jaemin that lunch didn’t agree with you and cut this meetup short.

But that means less time spent with Jaemin. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Jaemin is nice, so his friends should be as well, you reason with yourself. There’s no need to be nervous. Even if they’re all incredibly beautiful, hot people with the most unapproachable aura you have ever encountered.

Like honestly, how is someone like Karina even real? Her face could start a modern day equivalent of the Trojan War. She is literally the face blueprint for every main female character you play in your otome games.

Turns out, Karina is even more gorgeous up close. Ridiculously close with the way she’s inches from your face as she swipes on some blush on the apples of your cheeks. You never thought you’d see the resident it girl here for you, standing in the middle of your dorm room, let alone have an actual conversation with her that extended beyond a polite hello when she stops by for Giselle. It’s already been 45 minutes, and your nerves still haven’t calmed down.

“You just need to apply a little bit here and here on both your cheeks,” she instructs you, pointing towards your cheekbones and carefully applying the rosy powder to the same areas. She pauses in the application momentarily so that you can type out a few notes into your phone covering her directions. “You can go heavier if you want the cute sunburn, Sabrina Carpenter look, but if you do too much, you’ll end up looking like my ex.”

“What?” You’re startled, glancing over at her and nearly getting blinded once again by her lethal face card. She laughs lightly, giving you a slight smile. “A clown.”

“Oh, got it,” you chuckle, albeit nervously, shooting her a quick smile. “I’ll make sure to not do that.”

“Relax, it’s easy. Just a bit of makeup here and there, and you’ll be fine. All I do is some mascara, falsies, and a good lippie when I’m lazy, and I’m out the door in ten minutes,” Lia jumps in, holding several different tubes of lip tints.

“Are you sure? That’s really it?” You ask hesitantly, glancing over the various makeup products strewn over your desk. It looks a lot more complicated than what she had just described.

“Well, maybe you might need a bit more, like concealer and foundation. And some bronzer and heavy contouring. But just stick to the skincare routine and it’ll help lessen it,” Karina sighs, dabbing some highlighter to the tip of your nose before seeing the uncertain look in your eyes, adding hastily, “But it’s so worth it, trust. You’ll look so pretty, and it comes with so many perks. Girl math is knowing you can go out with no money and just your face card.”

“Hey, you’re friends with Yangyang?” Lia pipes up, noticing the photo strip you have pinned on your corkboard, nestled between the various Mystic Messenger Seven fanart and Zorro art prints.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I am. You know him?” You answer, and she nods before leaning in and evenly applying a thin layer of periwinkle tint on your lips. “Yeah, we’re in the same German class. Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

Well, you definitely can’t tell her about the raging heart on he has for his best friend, but it’s not like he really is seeing anyone either. You do vaguely remember Yangyang saying Lia was pretty and talented during his quick 5 minute minute class to Jaemin and his friends, so it’s not like he hates her either.

“No, he’s not,” you answer, hoping you made the right choice, and Lia’s face visibly brightens. “Oh, really? That’s great.”

“Okay, we’re done.” Karina announces, stepping back and holding up a mirror for you. “Not bad, right?”

“Oh, wow,” you suck in a breath, nearly gasping in surprise as you peer at the glass. You almost don’t recognize yourself. The contouring lifts up your face, slimming it down, and the blush gives you a pretty pink hue that makes you look sun kissed. Your lower lashes have nearly doubled in length with the mascara, giving you a pretty babydoll look. Karina had perfectly applied a set of falsies for you, framing your eyes delicately, and the shimmery eyeshadow and soft winged eyeliner accentuates your eyes even more. Your lips are the prettiest shade of pink, tinted and glossy.

You can’t believe it is your own reflection staring back at you.

“Now put this outfit on,” Lia says with a knowing smile, placing a shopping bag in your lap. “Jaemin picked it out.”

“Oh, really? Alright,” you manage to mumble out, dazed and still admiring yourself in the hand mirror. Karina laughs softly, nudging Lia before moving towards your door. “We have to get to a sorority meeting now, but I hope you like it, doll. And make sure to practice.”

“I love it,” you say breathlessly, grazing your fingertips against the cool glass, still in disbelief. “And I definitely will practice.”

“Mm, good, text us if you need any help! And send progress pics! We want to see how it’s going,” Lia answers, waving over her shoulder before the two of them exit your dorm. Sitting there alone, you stare at your reflection for a little longer, admiring yourself. You feel so pretty.

You finally remember the paper bag on your lap, and you immediately dig into it, pulling out a flowy floral sundress. It’s beautiful, and you quickly tug off your jeans and tshirt before going to your drawers to dig around for the appropriate bra for the dress. You manage to find it, snapping on the bra around yourself from the front before twisting it until the clasp is against your back. You hastily push your arms through the straps, tugging on either side until it’s on perfectly. You suck in a quick breath, internally preparing yourself for the battle with the next piece of clothing, a.k.a. your worst enemy: spandex. You’ve familiarized yourself with the awkward jig you have to do around your dorm until you’ve wriggled into the tight elastic enough so that it sits in the correct spot and sucks in all the right places.

At last, you won the war, but you feel sweaty now, flopping back onto your bed for a quick break. You flap your hands in front of your face, thanking whoever decided to invent setting spray. You grab your deodorant spray and douse yourself in a heavy dose of it before picking up the sundress and slipping it over your head. To your great relief, it slides on perfectly, and you quickly shuffle over to the full length mirror hanging on the back of your door. You straighten out the dress and quickly pat down any strand of hair knocked askew from your latest struggles before giving a smile to the mirror.

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

You happily take out the dainty gold heart necklace you had carefully tucked into your top desk drawer, struggling for a few seconds before you manage to clasp it around your neck. You quickly pull the pendant towards the front before slipping on the strappy sandals you left next to your desk. You grab the cute purse you bought last week, now packed with the perfect essentials, and give yourself one last once over.

You have nowhere to go, but you decide to take a walk to the dining hall. After all, you’re dressed up so nicely, makeup done so perfectly, you can’t waste it on another night stuffing your face with hot Cheetos and rewatching the first season of Haikyuu!!. Opening your door, you step out and nearly run into someone.

“Oh, finally, you’re done, doll. I thought you died in there or some…”

His eyes widening in utter shock, his next word dies on the tip of his tongue when Jaemin sees you standing in front of him. His mouth falls open slightly before he quickly closes it to swallow harshly, his throat running dry. He’s never seen you like this before, never imagined that you’d be this pretty. He inhales sharply, stiffening slightly as his eyes rake over your figure, seeing how the dress perfectly accentuates your figure, and settles on your face.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?” Your eyes widen slightly before your cheeks grow warm when you notice his stunned reaction.

“Um,” he croaks out, voice cracking before he quickly swallows again, silently cursing when puberty decides to make a belated appearance. “Lia texted me that you were done, so I wanted to see how it went. You look… wow.”

Your cheeks heat up even further, and you laugh a little nervously, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “R-really? It’s not too much?”

“No!” He immediately blurts out before his cheeks flush carmine. “I—I mean, you look really good. You should dress like this more often.”

You can’t stop the smile spreading across your face, and Jaemin’s heart flip flops in his chest. “Really? Thank you, I will then.”

“Of course, really. I picked the dress myself after all,” He tries to joke before hastily clearing his throat. “Do you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh, no, I don’t. I was just going to go to the dining hall and grab some food,” you answer awkwardly, shifting your purse over your shoulder slightly and tightening your fingers around its strap.

“Let me take you out for dinner.” Jaemin blurts out, a little high pitched, mentally facepalming at how he sounds. “I mean, we can go over some of the harder problems in that packet since I probably need more studying anyway, and I’ll teach you a couple more dating tricks.”

“Sure, okay, that sounds good.” You give him a wider beam, and Jaemin feels his heart beat a little faster. Maybe you don’t need that much teaching from him after all. Seems like you’re a quick learner.

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

“The only thing you’re fucking is stupid.”

“Shut the hell up, Yeonjun. At least I’m not sticking my dick in crazy.”

You watch the light argument going on between Jeno and Yeonjun in amusement. You and Jaemin had just finished your ninth tutoring session two hours ago, and you think he’s getting on track to actually scoring a decent grade for the next midterm. You were initially going to head towards Lana and Moon’s dorm for your weekly anime show marathon, but Jaemin insisted that you stop by the Alpha Sigma Psi house for a small party. Giselle and Karina are both part of that house, so you figured it couldn’t hurt to make a quick appearance. Good thing you spent some time touching up your makeup before today’s tutoring session.

“Hey, doll! Join the photo,” Jaemin calls out to you, gesturing you towards the area he and the rest of his friends are standing. You see another really pretty girl—Minjeong, was it?—standing on the side, holding up a phone and preparing to take the picture.

“Oh, no, it’s okay, I can just take the photo instead,” you laugh awkwardly, extending your hand out towards Minjeong, but Jeno gently nudges you forward, “No way, you never take pics with us. Just one, come on, Y/N.”

“Yeah, join us!” Jaemin says brightly, tugging you towards him and you stumble slightly, falling forward into his chest. You quickly catch yourself, hands suddenly pressed against his chest, and the blood rushes to your face.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” you start to babble, trying to push yourself away before Jaemin quickly wraps his arm around your waist. “Nope, you’re staying here, it’s just a few pics, please, doll?”

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

You start to say before Minjeong’s voice cuts through the air. “Okay, I’m taking it in five seconds now. So get ready and pose or be ready to live with the consequences on Insta forever.”

Everyone immediately shuffles around, and you’re squeezed even tighter against Jaemin, and you just know that he can feel your heart pounding rapidly against his chest.

“Smile, doll,” Jaemin laughs gently, squeezing your hip lightly and you inhale sharply at that, your heart rate spiking and increasing exponentially. You muster up a few shaky smiles as the flash starts to go off.

After a few more pictures, you manage to untangle yourself from the group and hurriedly go towards Minjeong. “I can take the pictures, you should join in.”

She immediately brightens up at that, giving you a kilowatt smile as she hands you the phone and slips into your original position in between Jaemin and Karina. “Oh, thanks, Y/N.”

You wait a few moments for everyone to get readjusted before you begin to snap some photos, having already mastered this from the previous hang outs you’ve joined and knowing how to take the best angles for everyone, including all the 0.5 zoom out ones. After taking some additional group and solo photos for the girls, you’re finally free of your duties. Your eyes widen when you check the time on your phone, and you hurriedly make your way over to Jaemin.

“Hey, I need to get going now. I have to get to Lana and Moon’s dorm, so I’ll see you later,” you say quickly, already beginning to brush past him as the realization sets in that it’s been over an hour when you told your friends that you would only be fifteen minutes late.

“Wait, what? Hey, hold on, doll.” Jaemin reaches out to you, but you slip past him, calling over your shoulder. “Sorry, I’m late!”

He strides over, soon matching your pace as you speed walk back to the freshman dormitories. “Can’t you slow down a little bit? It’s not like you all haven’t seen these episodes before, plus we watched a few of them together after our last tutoring session.”

“Yeah, but I’m over an hour late,” you stress, slightly frazzled now as you hurriedly type out an apology to send to the group chat.

“Just breathe, okay? You’ll be fine. They’re your friends. They should understand,” Jaemin reassures you, grabbing your hand and you freeze slightly. He notices your stop and teases lightly, “I said slow down, not stop. What’s wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you stammer out a little too quickly, your heart thumping wildly in your chest. He’s holding your hand. Na Jaemin is hand in hand with you, fingers intertwined. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you’re dreaming.

“Well, alright then, come on, let me walk you back,” Jaemin laughs before tugging you along. “You can help me pick out which pictures to post on Insta along the way, too, yeah?”

“Oh, sure,” you say breathlessly, your heart rate quickening to an embarrassing speed when he squeezes your hand gently, and you nesrly trip over your own feet.

“Perfect, so what about this one?” He holds up his phone to show you the picture you had taken for the group earlier, and you falter slightly. Why are you feeling a little disappointed with his choice?

Jaemin notices your hesitation and says a little softly, “I know you’re a private person. So I thought you’d prefer if I posted the group photo you took. You always take the best pictures for me, too. You know my good side the best. And it’d be weird if Hyuck saw, too, right? But did you want the other photo? I mean, if you really want it, I can..?”

“No!” You hurriedly say to reassure him, squeezing his hand lightly. “No, you’re right. I don’t want my picture out there. And um, yeah, that definitely wouldn’t be good if Hyuck saw.”

Jaemin gives you a relieved smile. “Yeah, exactly. You’re not upset, right, doll? We still have that fun pic of us and our homemade pizzas from earlier that I posted on my finsta. I didn’t know making pizzas would be that easy.”

“Of course not, don’t worry about it,” you laugh softly, continuing to walk back to the freshman dormitories, and Jaemin swings your joined hands between the two of you freely.

“Mm, I’m getting free cooking and tutoring lessons in exchange for dating tips. Two for the price of one is quite the good deal for me, right?” Jaemin teases lightly, and you let out another laugh.

“You’re right, it is. You better step up your game then.”

“Oh, just you wait, you’ll get dating tips and a boyfriend, so we’ll be even,” Jaemin chuckles softly, squeezing your hand, and the butterflies erupt in your stomach once again, and you muster up the courage to say something a little more teasing.

“Is that a guarantee?”

“Well, you have a demand, and I must supply, right?”

“…I don’t think that’s how it quite goes, Jaemin. Maybe you need a few more tutoring sessions.”

“All I hear is that you want to spend more time with me,” Jaemin laughs, giving you the prettiest smile, and your cheeks warm up even more, heart stuttering in your chest. Speechless, you let him continue on, his chattering filling the air as you listen with quiet content, your hand securely tucked in his for the remainder of the walk back.

vi. you can brush my hair.

Jaemin sits on the edge of his chair across from you at the table in the dorm common area, anxiously tapping his fingers against the flat surface. You are down to the last page of the mock exam packet, carefully going over his work with a red pen. You made minimal marks on the papers, a stark contrast to the very first practice exam he had worked on near the start of your tutoring. At that point in time, he didn’t even get to the end of the exam.

“Amazing.”

You say in awe, scanning through the last problem Jaemin had completed before tallying up his final score and calculating his results. “I can’t believe it. You got an 87.”

“No fucking way,” Jaemin is wide eyed, staring at you in disbelief, and you give him a wide smile, sliding the packet over to him, so that he can look over the exam and notes you’ve written for the problems he missed.

“Yes fucking way.”

“Holy shit, this is insane,” Jaemin breathes out, carefully reading through each page, and to his utter amazement, he understands every note and explanation you had added next to each incorrect question. He looks up at you, beaming, “I really got a B+?”

“You did,” you confirm, smiling back at him. “And who knows? It might become an A if the exam gets curved.”

“Oh my god, I owe you my life,” Jaemin chuckles, staring down at the graded exam in front of him, still in disbelief. “Seriously, doll, thank you so much.”

“Oh, of course, anytime,” you laugh sheepishly, twisting the rings adorning your fingers around nervously before averting your attention elsewhere, standing up to go towards the adjacent communal kitchen and carrying your filled tote bag with you. “A—Anyway, I brought some things to celebrate a job well done so far.”

“And how did you know I would’ve done well? What if I completely bombed that exam?” Jaemin teases you, standing up and following after you.

“I don’t know, I guess I just believed in you,” you stutter out, cheeks warming up as you set down your tote bag on the counter, unable to look him in the eyes, and he freezes, mulling over your words silently.

You believe in him? Someone who’s a hopeless cause? He honestly didn’t even believe in himself, he thinks to himself, his chest constricting uncomfortably, a foreign feeling making its entrance known to him, constricting around his heart. He inhales sharply, shoving it away with an easy going smile. “Is that so? Well, thanks, Y/N. And what are we doing now?”

“Making pancakes,” you answer, busying yourself with pulling out the ingredients from your tote bag. “You need to be well fed before the midterm. Your brain needs food. And the class is at 8 am, and neither of us are not morning people, so this is as good as it’s gonna get.”

“Pancakes?” Jaemin echoes after you, glancing at the various items strewn across the counter’s surface. “Does it really take this many ingredients? Isn’t it just the box mix and water?”

“That’s the short cut way. We’re making pancakes from scratch,” you laugh softly, taking out a mixing bowl and whisk along with the measuring cups and spoons.

“But why? It’s so much easier the other way.” Jaemin whines softly, and you chuckle lightly. “Trust me, it’s worth the effort.”

You hand the one cup measuring utensil and bowl to Jaemin and nudge him towards the flour. “Help me measure out two cups of flour.”

“Alright,” he sighs, opening the bag of flour and carefully scooping out the first cup, scraping off any excess before dumping it into the bowl before repeating the process. “What next?”

“Four tablespoons of sugar,” you answer, handing him the sugar and appropriate measuring utensil before working on measuring four teaspoons of baking powder and a quarter of a teaspoon of baking soda. You pour those to the mixing bowl as Jaemin quietly measures the sugar and adds it in as well before waiting for your next instructions. You quickly drop in half of a teaspoon of salt before pushing the bowl towards him. “Now whisk this together gently, please.”

Jaemin busies himself with combining the dry ingredients as you take out half a stick of butter from the fridge (The one labeled with your name, of course. You’re no food thief, unlike someone who’s been stealing other people’s leftover takeout). You microwave it to get four tablespoons of melted butter before making your way to Jaemin’s side.

“Okay, now make a well in the center of it,” you say, and Jaemin clumsily makes an indent in the dry mixture before looking towards you for approval.

“Perfect, now add in two teaspoons of vanilla extract and crack the egg into it there,” you instruct him, and he obediently follows your directions. You measure out one and three quarters cups of milk and add it to the well before also pouring in the melted butter.

“Do I just whisk it together now?” Jaemin asks, picking up the whisk again, and you nod.

“Yes, mix it all together. It’s fine if there’s a few lumps, but it should be smooth overall.” Your eyes trail over his face, and you stifle a small laugh. “You got a little something on your cheek.”

“What?” Jaemin looks up, pausing in his whisking and you can’t help but giggle, staring at the flour dusting his cheek. “There’s flour on your face.”

“Oh, really? Can you wipe it off for me?” Jaemin laughs softly, attempting to brush at it with his shoulder but failing to reach that high.

“Oh, s-sure,” you stammer slightly, your hand quivering slightly as you outstretch your fingers and gingerly brush your fingertips against the apple of his cheek. His sun kissed skin is warm beneath your fingertips, and your breath hitches in your throat before you gently wipe away the remaining residue. You can feel his gaze searing into your face, but you refuse to look him directly in the eyes.

“There, all done,” you murmur, hastily pulling away and taking a step back. Jaemin lets out a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. He clears his throat, setting down the bowl. “I think this is all done, too.”

“Oh, great, that’s great,” you say, immediately focusing on the bowl before carrying it with you towards the stove, turning it on. “Let’s set this to medium-low heat. And I’ll add some butter to the pan, so the pancake won’t stick.”

Jaemin hands you the leftover butter and pan for you to set onto the stove. You use the spatula to move around a pat of butter, coating the pan nicely. Once the stove is ready and the butter starts to sizzle slightly, you pour a quarter cup of the batter onto the pan, expertly flicking your wrist to rotate the pan and cause the batter to form a perfect circle. You pull out a small container of blueberries, sprinkling some of them on top.

“Woah.” Jaemin watches you, impressed. “Teach me how to do that.”

“This? It’s easy,” you laugh softly, checking on the pancake until its underside is golden and small bubbles start to form on the top. You quickly move the pan, flipping the pancake onto its other side. “You can try making the next one.”

“Yeah? Will you wrap your arms around me and give me the one on one experience?” Jaemin jokes lightheartedly, and you nearly choke. “I mean—I don’t think that's completely necessary.”

“Relax, doll, I’m just kidding,” he laughs softly, nudging you gently, and you let out an awkward laugh. “Oh, totally. Just a joke.”

Once the pancake is golden on both sides, you carefully slide it onto a plate Jaemin pulled out from one of the cabinets. Your heart rate finally returns to its normal state, and you manage to say calmly, “Maple syrup and whipped cream are in the fridge.”

Jaemin takes out the aforementioned toppings, generously slathering on some butter before pouring the syrup and spraying whipped cream onto the pancake. He cuts out a small piece and quickly spears it onto his fork before taking the bite, nearly moaning in delight at the first taste.

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

“My secret recipe,” you say proudly as you start to pour the batter for a second pancake, evenly spreading it on the pan. “Was it worth the effort?”

“Yes.” Jaemin swallows, almost immediately going for another bite before he gazes at you, giving you a genuine smile, and your heart rate again increases to an alarming speed.

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

You finish the midterm in forty five minutes, being the first one to turn in your completed exam. This means you finished twenty minutes before the class ends and consequently, either failed it spectucularly or knocked it out of the park. You really hope it’s the latter.

Despite being rather preoccupied with other matters a.k.a. your suddenly thriving social life, you managed to cram in some studying here and there because your mother would absolutely kill you if you lost your provost scholarship. Gifted kid burnout? Who’s that? You never heard of her before (Just kidding, you’ve had plenty of breakdowns and cry fests over calculating bond values and stock prices).

Now outside of the classroom in one of the open study alcoves, you drop your Longchamp bag on the empty chair next to you before tugging at the back of your jean skirt before carefully sitting down. You make sure to readjust your bra straps, tucking them under the ruched fabric of your white shirt. Tapping your fingers against the scratched surface of the table, you briefly admire the shimmery gold ombré manicure adorning your nails that Jaemin had chosen last week. You pull out a compact from the inner side pocket of your purse, carefully checking your makeup to ensure it is still in pristine condition before quickly swiping in another layer of your Buxom plumping lip gloss in the best shade: fir royale.

The flurry of text messages pinging across your screen quickly catches your attention, and you tuck your mirror and tube of lip gloss away before scrolling through them, letting out a quiet scoff at Karina’s latest melodramatic outburst in the clout chasers group chat:

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: guys, gals, and yuckjun

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: what tf ??? why are you calling me out

[ 11:46 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up or else I won’t make out with you anymore

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:46 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you that touch starved bro

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: anyway as i was saying

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: this skank in my marketing class has been copying my outfits and posting them on her insta and she has like 10k followers now

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: time to tear a bitch apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: like look at this shit

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: sent {10 images.jpeg}

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: my followers are gonna rip her apart

[ 11:47 a.m. ] karebear ✨: she’s downgrading my brand

[ 11:47 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: dw girl i’ll do a response video so my followers will see too

[ 11:48 a.m. ] princess lia 👑: she can’t get away with this

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:48 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: idk… they’re similar styles but that’s what popular rn

[ 11:48 a.m. ] karebear ✨: it’s gonna be song jia 2.0 watergate

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: just say you’re broke and go

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: if she’s gonna plagiarize me, she better do it right like bffr walmart version

[ 11:49 a.m. ] somi amor 💋: you have proof they’re fake?

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: i mean fake bitch fake bags right

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: idk she’s kinda hot

[ 11:49 a.m. ] karebear ✨: shut up jen be like your hairline and fall back

[ 11:49 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: HELLO ?! back me up yeonjun

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: if you wanna be fucking stupid then knock yourself out

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: loved a message

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: hey my place tonight jun 🥰

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: are you gonna listen to your own advice yj

[ 11:51 a.m. ] karebear ✨: excuse me ????

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: proverbs 26:11

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?”

Jaemin appears next to you, and you let out a startled squeak, jumping in your seat, and he laughs, quickly placing his hands on your shoulders to steady you. You look at him wide eyed for a few seconds, his question not yet registering in your mind, and he waits patiently for your answer.

“Oh!” Your eyes light up, and he smiles at the endearing sight. “Just Karina ranting about something and Yeonjun being whipped.”

“Ah, so the usual?” He reaches for your bag, slinging it over his shoulder, and you stand up, pulling your skirt down once more to ensure you’re covered. The two of you start to make your way out of the Langley Hall.

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

He brightens up, opening the door for you and you thank him. “It wasn’t too bad at all! I actually understood like 90% of the questions and for the others, I was able to narrow down the answers between two choices, so 50/50 chance, fingers crossed I picked the right one.”

You beam when you hear that, and he returns the smile, eyes crinkling in the corners, and you pretend to wipe away faux tears. “I feel like a proud mom.”

“I think my mom actually will be proud,” he says, eyes scanning the cars parked on the nearby street before finding his. He grabs your hand, tugging you along. “C’mon, we gotta go celebrate that our misery is over until finals week. Plus, we gotta prep you when you talk to Hyuck.”

“Wait, what?” You abruptly stop short, and he nearly loses his grip on your hand. “When am I talking to him?”

“This Saturday. You’re coming with me to the Nu Chi party, right?”

“Since when? I don’t go to parties,” you protest, “They’re too loud and noisy, and beer is gross and—”

“You went to the Alpha Sigma one a few weeks ago though?” Jaemin interrupts, and you shake your head. “That was a small party though. This one is the party of the semester. What if I embarrassed myself in front of the entire school?”

“Parties are the prime time for meeting people and getting to know them because alcohol makes everyone friendlier and people don’t stay within their friend groups,” Jaemin interrupts. “Do you really believe that you’ll get him to like you by, I don’t know, one day, your eyes will meet across the classroom, and he’ll fall madly in love with you? This isn’t one of your fanfics, Y/N.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, letting go of his hand on purpose, and he frowns, bottom lip jutting out in a pout before reaching out for your hand again. You swiftly dodge him, and he whines, quickly snatching your hand up and lacing your and his fingers together.

“I hope this isn’t how you’ll treat him on your date. Thank god we’re doing a trial run right now.”

“A trial run?” you echo him, and he nods, flashing you that favorite smile of his that never fails to make you weak in the knees.

“Well, we have to make sure your first date goes perfectly so there will be a second, right? Practice makes perfect,” he says matter-of-factly, and you nod slowly in agreement. The logic makes sense somehow.

“Okay, so where would you pick for a first date?”

“Maybe a cute cafe? Oh, there’s that one place: Cloudy with a Chance of Boba!” You brighten up, thinking about that boba shop’s menu you spent a good half hour scrolling through on Yelp last night.

“Mm, the most popular place right now is that ramen place on the end of Maisie Street. It’d probably be best to go there,” he muses, tugging you along via your intertwined hands. You nearly stumble in your heeled sandals but swiftly catch yourself.

“O-oh, okay, so are we going there now?”

“Nah, let’s do the ice cream place next door to it. Not really feeling noodles at the moment.” He stops to look over his shoulder at you, and you run into his back, causing him to let go before quickly reaching out and grabbing your arms to steady you. “Woah, be careful.”

“Sorry.” You’re flustered, your cheeks now growing hotter than a furnace. Jaemin reaches forward, his finger carefully swiping at the smudged lip gloss on the corner of your lip. “Where’s your lip gloss? You should reapply this.”

Eyes widening, he then shifts and peers behind him, craning his neck to the side in all attempts to look at the back of his shirt. “There’s not a mark on my shirt, right?”

You quickly rub off any shimmery residue. “It’s fine, your shirt is dark blue, so you can’t see it anymore.”

“Oh, good. Wait, where’s your lip gloss?” You fish through your bag, pulling out the tube and handing it to Jaemin. He uncaps it, giving you the lower half of the gloss before gently grasping your chin with one hand. He leans forward and tilts your head towards him, his eyes focused on your lips. The butterflies in your stomach erupt in an instant. You try so hard to stand still, fidgeting with one of the rings on your finger behind your back.

Jaemin’s face is so close to yours that you can count every single long dark eyelash that frames his pretty eyes. His lips are the prettiest shade of carmine, and you wonder what it’s like to be Aphrodite’s favorite child. How lucky you are to already be basking in the attention of her favorite; imagine how much luckier he is to be her favorite.

The beautiful boy in front of you carefully applies the gloss for you, fully concentrating on coating your lips with a pretty sheen once again. When he glances up, he’s almost blown away by the way you’re looking at him.

You look stunning, pretty as a picture in VOGUE magazine. Not quite the cover page, but you’re nearly there. A swell of pride runs through his veins, like an artist admiring his latest masterpiece on show in MOMA.

“Anyway,” he clears his throat, handing back to you the lip gloss. “Let’s go. We’re almost there.”

“Alright.” You follow behind him like a lost puppy, and he reaches back to grab your hand and interlace your fingers. Your heart nearly skips a beat as your cheeks grow warmer once again, and for a split second, you wonder if he feels the same way.

“We’re here,” Jaemin announces, letting go of your hand to open the shop’s door, the bell above it jingling faintly as he gestures for you to go inside.

You enter the pretty shop, marveling the clean and simple interior with circular white tables and matching garden iron chairs surrounding each one. There’s bright greenery and plants decorating the edges of the shop, and the wall is covered in mismatched frames of paintings and pictures in various sizes and colors. The cheeky neon sign displayed near the front read, “It’s not gonna lick itself!”, and you laugh softly when you see it. The display of different colorful ice creams at the front are absolutely enticing, and you’re already struggling to decide which two flavors to pick.

You finally decide on a Vietnamese coffee and honeycomb swirl, accepting it from the cashier before you start to pull out your wallet. Before you can even pull out your card, Jaemin taps his phone against the screen, paying for both yours and his.

“Never pay on the first date,” he chides you lightly, picking up his ice cream. “Always let the guy pay for the first date.”

“Oh, but shouldn’t we at least split it?” You ask sheepishly, walking towards a table near the back that he gestures towards. He follows behind you, picking up some spoons and napkins.

“If the guy is so broke that he can’t pay $7 for your ice cream, then he shouldn’t be out dating anyway. He should be getting a job,” Jaemin retorts, tugging your chair out for you before sitting across from you and handing you a spoon and napkin. “Don’t you watch that Shera lady? Sprinkle, sprinkle and all that jazz. Maybe you can split for the future dates, but if the guy has any basic decency, he would pay for the first one.”

“Alright, I’ll keep that in mind,” you sigh, taking a hefty scoop of your ice cream and having the first bite. It’s delicious, and you make a mental note to buy a pint and bring back to your dorm to share with Giselle later.

The two of you continue to discuss various appropriate topics to broach on a first date (“Hey Jaemin, you like cheese? My favorite’s Gouda.” “… Please do not ask that.”). You quickly jot down bullet points in your Notes app, your fingers flying over the screen as Jaemin instructs you on good conversational starters and body language.

“So you just need to touch him on his upper forearm and then pull away. Stroke his ego and say he’s funny or some shit like that. At least you don’t have to force yourself to laugh with him though because Hyuck is naturally funny anyway. And he’s good at keeping up the conversation and a people person, so it won’t be awkward even for your first date,” Jaemin continues as you nod, rapidly typing what he says.

“And at the end of the date, touch his shoulder again, glance down at his lips for a brief second before making eye contact. If he’s bold enough, he’ll go for the first kiss. But then just immediately smile and say you had a great time before he can lean in. After that, he won’t stop thinking about that moment, and it’ll drive him crazy, and he’ll be texting you for a second date within the next day.”

“Mm, okay, I think I got it,” you mumble absentmindedly, engrossed in writing down the last few bullet points and Jaemin leans over to take a closer look at your phone, his eyes flitting over the screen.

“So for the last point, do I have to deny the first kiss then? Smile and walk away before he leans in and…”

You start to ask until you look up, and your breath hitches in your throat at the close proximity, your and his noses almost brushing. Jaemin is so pretty, even prettier when you can count the few freckles dotting his face, can clearly see the mesmerizing golden flecks dotting his irises, can admire the way his lips look so soft and curve into the picture perfect smile. Your heart thumps wildly, nearly falling onto the floor along with your jaw when you glance up from staring at his lips and see that he’s already looking back at you with the softest expression on his face.

“You don’t have to,” Jaemin murmurs, and your heart stutters in your chest as he moves in closer, his lashes brushing against your cheek, and suddenly, his lips are pressed against yours. They’re pink and soft and slot perfectly against yours in a way that has your heart skipping beats and stomach doing cartwheels.

Eyes widening, you freeze up, letting out a quiet squeak of surprise, before he pulls away, giving you an amused smile. The lingering warmth on your lips makes your cheeks heat up, and you have to break eye contact, stammering over your words as you gently graze your fingers over your lips in wonderment.

Jaemin laughs softly as he leans back in his chair. “We’ll have to work on this too then. You’re kissing like it’s a Park Shinhye kdrama.”

You’re still dazed, cheeks growing even warmer as you avoid his gaze, fiddling with the loose thread on the hem of your skirt. “That was my first kiss.”

Jaemin pauses at the realization, his cheeks flushing slightly before he clears his throat, giving you a half smile and a light chuckle, “Oh, really? That’s cute, doll. Well, I’ll teach you some tips, so you’ll be better at it by the time you ask Hyuck out. At least you got a decent first kiss, right? No big deal.”

“Yeah, no big deal,” you echo softly, your heart still racing at breakneck speed. You pretend to focus on the remnants of your ice cream in the bottom of your paper cup, fingers gripping around the container tightly.

Jaemin was right.

You don’t think you’ll be able to stop thinking about this moment anytime soon.

viii. come on, barbie, let’s go party!

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

Moon asks worriedly, helping you with your makeup as you sit, perched on the edge of your bed. She uncaps your eyeliner as Lana fusses with your shirt, smoothing out any of the wrinkles. “Actually, I can’t do it. You do it, Yang. You’re an expert at this.”

“Alright, give it to me.” Yangyang comes over, grabbing the eyeliner and expertly draws on the wing above your right eye. “Years of cosplay have finally come in handy. Although, I still can’t believe you’re putting in all this effort for Jaemin.”

“I need to look pretty. He usually does my makeup for me, but he’s busy right now,” you mumble, twisting the ring around your finger anxiously. “It’s my first time going to a party. I can’t embarrass him when he’s a ten.”

“Yeah, in rupees,” Yangyang scoffs, and Lana frowns at you, stopping in her tracks. “Don't talk about yourself like that. You’re already pretty, and if anything, you should be embarrassed to be seen with that slime ball. I can’t believe he doesn’t even have the decency to pick you up. Why are you the one going to his place?”

“He has some frat meeting right now,” you answer, glancing down at your newly manicured nails. The pearl color shimmers under the light, and you can’t help but admire it even more. You wish they were a little shorter, but they really do look quite pretty.

“What meeting? We’re in the same frat. Also, hold still,” Yangyang huffs, holding your chin as he draws on the left wing over your eye. “We need them to look like twins, not cousins twice removed.”

“I don’t know, he just said there was some meeting,” you mumble, holding perfectly still until he finally finishes. “Maybe it was a one on one meeting or something, who knows?”

“I still think he’s shady,” Lana grumbles, and Moon nods as well. “Yeah, like the first kiss thing?”

“It’s no big deal,” you wave your hand dismissively, hopping off of your bed and taking a look at yourself in your mirror. “Better to get it over with, right? I mean, imagine being this old and not having your first kiss yet.”

“Is that what he said to you?” Moon huffs, affronted, and you shift in your place uncomfortably. “No, of course not. It’s just—everyone gets their first kiss when they’re like fourteen or fifteen, right?”

“That’s not the point,” Lana says indignantly, tucking your hair behind your ear carefully. “You wanted it to be special, didn’t you? It just feels like… he took something away from you.”

“He didn’t. I wanted this,” you answer loudly, ignoring the way your stomach flip flops as you try not to think back to that moment. He kissed you, he really does like you back, he might have not said it out loud, but he knows how much it means to you (Wouldn’t he?).

“Okay, as long as you’re happy,” Moon gives in, and she and Lana exchange a worried look that goes unnoticed by you. But what can they do? They can continue to try convincing you, but it will never work when it falls on deaf ears.

“I am,” you insist, avoiding your friends’ gazes and staring at yourself back in the mirror. Moon attempts to lift the mood again, offering you a tentative smile in the reflection. “This whole thing is like a whole emotional rollercoaster, and Yangyang is definitely not tall enough to ride.”

“Shut the fuck up, I’m literally almost six foot tall,” Yangyang shoots back, and you laugh, relaxing once more as you watch your friends start to bicker again.

“Listen, you can’t be delusional and short. Pick a struggle.” Moon counters, and Lana agrees, handing you your phone to tuck into your pocket. “She’s right. You carry yourself with the confidence of a much taller man.”

You smile fondly as the bickering between your friends continues. You miss them, you realize with a jolting pang of regret, you haven’t been hanging out with them as often as you used to. In fact, the majority of your weeks are spent with Jaemin and his friends.

It’s your first cold dose of reality, and you’re hit with a startling truth. You haven’t been a very good friend lately.

—

Lana drove you to the Nu Chi Theta house, and you felt like a kindergartener being dropped for her first day of school. Your face feels hot as a wave of embarrassment rushes over you as you notice the amount of glances you receive from the insanely pretty girls and boys already on the front lawn and streaming out from the front door. You quickly exit the vehicle, hurriedly waving good bye over your shoulder before making your way into the house, almost tripping over the raised walkway.

You wander around the house, searching for Jaemin and quickly sidestepping a through the couples and other students dancing around, nearly getting bowled over by someone you recognize from your school’s football team. He gives you a quick once over before offering a half apology, eyes set on another girl on the other side of the room. You take a deep breath before pushing your way into the next room, finally spotting Jaemin with his friends, minus Jeno and Somi, by the staircase and letting out a sigh of relief.

“Hey,” you say breathlessly, squeezing through two couples busily making out in the doorway and wincing slightly when you jostle both of them, causing them to give you dirty looks before resuming their activities.

“Oh, hi, Y/N!” Karina says brightly, giving you a perfect smile and reaching over to squeeze your arm gently. “We didn’t think you’d make it.”

“My first frat party? Of course, I wouldn’t miss it,” you laugh, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear nervously before fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Jaemin gives you a small smile, and you return it with a slightly shaky one, your eyes flickering towards the fading pink, glossy lip mark staining the collar of his shirt. The color is much too dark to be Jaemin’s, and your stomach churns slightly.

“You look so pretty, Y/N, I love the confidence,” Lia chimes in, gently pinching the fabric of your skirt between her manicured fingers. “I love this, you’ll have to let me borrow it sometime.”

“Oh, of course! You can borrow it anytime,” you agree quickly, flashing her a slightly forced smile before glancing over at Jaemin again, unsure what to do.

“Where do you shop?” Yeonjun asks, glancing over at your outfit. “The shirt is nice, too.”

“Oh my god, yes, we have to go shopping together sometime, and you’ll have to show me all the good places,” Karina cuts in, nudging you gently before letting out a sigh, looking over at Lia. “God, I’ve been feeling so fat lately, like freshman twenty might be getting to me.”

“No, same, I’ve been extending my gym sessions and doing Pilates,” Lia huffs softly, and you remain silent, switching your weight around on each foot, glancing over at Jaemin helplessly.

“I need another drink. You coming, Y/N?” Jaemin finally speaks up before brushing past Yeonjun, and you hurriedly follow behind him, careful not to fall behind or get swept away. He quickly pushes through to the kitchen, finding a spot next to the counter covered in various bottles of cheap alcohol and stacks of red solo cups dispersed in between.

“You want one?” Jaemin asks, extending a shot of vodka he just poured out towards you, and you shake your head before he gives a wry smile. “You sure? It’ll help with the nerves. You were shaking back there.”

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

“Everybody noticed,” he snorted, handing you the cup, and you wince slightly before holding your nose and downing it in one go. “Give me another then.”

“Atta girl,” Jaemin hands you another shot and you take that one just as quickly, making a face that causes him to smile subconsciously. As he pours himself a cup of beer, he spots Donghyuck by the pool out back, and a knot settles in his stomach uncomfortably. He almost doesn’t want to tell you, and he doesn’t know why. It’s just because he worked so hard to make you look this good, and his loudmouth friend gets to reap all the benefits, he tells himself, taking a swig of his drink, Donghyuck doesn’t know how lucky he is.

Ignoring all the stop signs and whistles going off in his head, he gestures towards Donghyuck outside, clenching the red cup in his hand a little tighter than normal. “There’s your chance. Gotta do it before the alcohol wears off.”

“Oh, um, actually, I wanted to talk to you,” you stammer out, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear again (It’s one of your habits when you’re nervous, and he thinks it might be his favorite). He pushes down the growing knot in his stomach.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? You can’t miss this,” Jaemin insists before nudging you in the direction of the pool outside despite your soft protests.

“W-wait, I jus—” you say desperately, but Jaemin merely waves you off before disappearing back into the party inside. You let out a sigh, shoulders sagging slightly. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him after all the effort he put in these past four weeks.

You’ll tell him later.

—

“Oh? Where’s your little Barbie doll, Jaemin?” Karina simpers as she lazily taps her pretty manicured nails against the half filled red solo cup in her other hand when Jaemin returns to his original spot. “Have you gotten bored of playing with her yet?”

“It’s not like that,” Jaemin answers hotly, “She’s… fun. She makes me laugh.”

“How? By looking at her?” Yeonjun snorts, chugging his own cup before crinkling it in his fist. Jaemin wants to throw up. “We thought you just did this because you’ve been having a dry spell and were bored. Where is she anyway?

“She’s talking to Hyuck right now,” Jaemin mumbles meekly, shoulders slightly hunched over as he stares into the depths of his own solo cup.

“Really? I mean, is she even his type?” Lia asks skeptically, straightening up in her spot to see if she can spot you or Donghyuck anywhere. “If anything, I thought her friend—the pretty English major one—would be his type. How is she anyone’s type?”

“Hey, he turned her from a four to a solid eight. She might even go up half a point once you introduce her to an exercise and diet plan.” Karina says offhandedly, raising her cup towards him in mock salute before taking a sip.

“Yeah, how are you going to do that? It’s not like you can even sugarcoat it for her because then she’d eat it too,” Yeonjun throws out with a smirk, and Jaemin feels sick to his stomach, the nauseating feeling growing exponentially and gnawing at him as his friend continues, “I mean she’s probably already on the seafood diet because she sees any food and just eats it. How can you even stand her, Jae? The way she just follows you around like a puppy. Isn’t it annoying?”

“God, I know, the way she basically chases after us like a lap dog is so pathetic. At least she takes good insta pics for us though, so she’s somewhat useful. But we had that one really good group photo at that last party, and she totally ruined the picture. You can’t even crop her out because she had to stand next to you, Jae,” Lia complains, rolling her eyes, and Karina laughs, taking out her phone and scrolling through her photos.

“Oh my god, I know the exact photo you’re talking about. It’s this one, right? She practically threw herself into your arms,” She flashes her screen towards the group, and Jaemin wants to shrink and crawl into a hole somewhere and die. Was it the best photo of you? No. Was it the worst? Maybe close to it. You’re standing sideways and still taking up more space in the photo than the others, and the flash photography did not do any favors for you. You stand out even worse than Will Smith in the sunflower costume meme. He cringes inwardly, noting the way your skirt had rolled up and you’re smiling a little too widely. He makes a mental note to help you practice better, more flattering poses later on.

“You know that famous baby hippo? Moo Deng? I think we found her twin from the future,” Yeonjun barks out a laugh, reaching over and zooming in on you as Karina smirks before putting away her phone. Lia giggles and glances over at Jaemin, scrutinizing his reaction before a sly expression makes an appearance on her face, saying coyly, “You have a crush on her, don’t you?”

Jaemin flushes, embarrassment coating his cheeks, and he immediately snaps, “Shut up, I might be lonely, but I’m not despera—”

“Oh, Y/N!” Lia says loudly, effectively cutting Jaemin short. “How did it go? Are you and Hyuck gonna be the new couple on campus?”

Immediately, his heart drops even further to his stomach, and Jaemin whirls around to see you standing a few feet away. Did Lia know you were there? How long were you standing there? Did you hear them? Did you hear every horrible thing they said about you?

“Oh, Donghyuck said he wasn’t interested, but he was nice about it,” you say, offering a vague smile in Jaemin’s direction, and he nearly breathes a sigh of relief as his heart starts to slow back down to its normal rate. A part of him is glad that Donghyuck rejected you, and he nearly misses what you say next, too caught up in this unfamiliar feeling.

“I think I’m going to head back to my dorm. I’m a little tired. Thank you for inviting me.”

With that, you turn away and walk off, but something still doesn’t feel right to Jaemin. It’s a split second decision but for once, he puts his heart over his mind and chases after you, ignoring the increasing whispers from his friends and their eyes searing into his back.

ix. raise your hand if you have ever been personally victimized by na jaemin.

Jaemin is right on your heels the entire time you walk back to your dorm. All he receives is stony silence from you that he fills with babbling nonsense, asking you what’s wrong to no avail. When you finally enter your dorm, you turn to him at last, and he perks up. However, the two words that come out of your mouth have him deflating faster than Yangyang’s ego when Alice called him a shitty kisser with too much saliva (“You’re supposed to make me wet down there, not up here. Honestly, dude, if I wanted to drown myself, I would’ve jumped into the ocean.”).

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

After freeing your feet from their pointy death contraptions, you peel off each layer of clothing one by one, unzipping the mini skirt and kicking it away before tugging at the spandex, unleashing the breath you’ve been holding in since 8 a.m. to fit into it. There’s still indents marking the dips in your waist and your thighs, a lasting reminder that stays like an embarrassing stain. You fling that abhorrent piece of elastic elsewhere, and it falls near the end of your bed, out of sight behind the pile of textbooks you haven’t touched for the past three days.

“Hold on, what are you talking about? We made so much progress. You wanted to do this,” Jaemin protests, following after you and picking up the discarded garments you threw haphazardly. He waves around the skirt like a white flag. “You wanted to be in the popular crowd, and you got it. You’re this close to dating Hyuck. Yeah, he might’ve said no now, but we’ll come up with a new plan—You can bounce back from this! Why are you quitting now?”

Removing the off-the-shoulder pink top that restricts your arm movement, you quickly slip on an oversized sweater before reaching back and unhooking the strapless bra whose underwire has been digging into your ribs for so many hours, a sigh of relief escaping between your teeth. You toss it onto your chair without another care in the world, and it lands next to the shirt in a heap.

“Because this isn’t me. This isn’t what I like.”

“Of course, it is. This is still you: just new and improved,” he insists, frantically attempting to hand you your discarded shirt and pleather skirt. You ignore them, opting to pull out and put on your favorite pair of stretched out gym shorts from middle school that you had shoved in the back of your closet to make room for all the flashy clothing Jaemin picked out for you. “We’re having fun. You’re popular and pretty now. You’re almost dating Donghyuck. You have everything that everyone wants. You’re the girl the boys want to be with, the girl all the other girls want to be.”

You shake your head, reaching for the packet of makeup wipes near your sink. “It’s not what I want.”

Jaemin scoffs, “Don’t be ridiculous. What are you talking about? This is what you asked me to do.”

You throw him a scathing glare, and he takes a step back. “God, Jaemin, for once in your life, take off the stupid rose colored heart shades, and you’ll finally see all the red flags around you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jaemin asks defensively. He thought everything was going according to plan; he’s going to pass macroeconomics, and you got to talk to Donghyuck and are this close to scoring a date with him. People notice you wherever you go, the two of you receive compliments, his friends like you, everyone likes you.

“I have to pretend to like things I hate and hate the things I like. I have to do things a certain way, act a certain way, pretend this is all effortless. I don’t know if people are being genuine or pretending like I am. I hate this—this fake version of me.” You spit the words out like fuel to a fire, and you stand there in all your blazing glory, ugly uniform shorts and all.

“My thighs keep chafing. My feet have blisters everyday from these boots. This foundation makes me break out even more, and I can’t type up my notes in class or write fast enough because of these nails, and my grades almost took a plunge. I’m basically freezing my tits off out there in a shirt I don’t like. The lashes make my eyes itch, and this skirt is so short that I have to keep pulling it down every five seconds before I end up flashing someone.”

You don’t recognize the girl in your mirror anymore. You pluck off the falsies lining your eyes, scrubbing furiously at the layers of expensive brand name makeup covering your skin. You wipe off every inch of it until your bare face stares back at you, slightly puffy, blemishes, faded acne scars and all. You feel like you can breathe a little better now.

“Did you really think it’s easy being one of us? Do you think people will notice you if you show up in sweats with Cheetos stains?” Jaemin stares at you incredulously. “This is how it is. I don’t get why you’re throwing it all away like this.”

“And yet, you were all for it when I threw away everything before.”

“Because you asked for it! You asked me to—to make you into someone Donghyuck would date!”

“You don’t get it.” You whirl around on your heels to face him instead of the mirror, and the anger and intensity laced in your voice nearly blows him away. “I like myself the way I am. I never hated myself. I may be insecure about how I look sometimes, but who isn’t? Yeah, I like wearing cherry lip gloss and mascara sometimes. It’s fun trying out new hairstyles and clothes and learning to do better makeup. I like getting dressed up for special occasions. I like doing these things on my own terms. But this? What I’m doing to myself right now? This isn’t the same. Am I supposed to keep up this charade for the rest of my life? If I do eventually go out with Donghyuck, am I gonna have to keep lying to him? To everyone? I want people to like me for me. To actually know me.”

“If this is how you feel, then why would you keep doing this?! If you hate it so much, then why?” He’s frustrated, carding his fingers through his hair as he can’t wrap his mind around the fact that you’re angry over this. You look gorgeous, so what’s the problem?

“Because I liked spending time with you!” you burst out, “I never liked Donghyuck—I liked you. I wanted it to be you. It was fun at first, I did like it at first, but I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I can’t be friends with someone who’s ashamed of me.”

There’s a jolt in his heart when he hears your confession, but the second jolt comes quickly afterwards at your last words. Denial is the first stage of grief, and he pales at your final declaration. “What are you talking about? This whole thing is so that Dongh—”

“Oh, please. You can drop the act. This isn’t about Donghyuck anymore. This is about you being too embarrassed to be seen with someone who doesn’t fit your aesthetics.” You air quote the last word for emphasis, and his jaw tightens at that. “You’d rather drop dead than go out with a four like me, right?” You smile sardonically at him. “I may be a four on a seafood diet, but my ears work perfectly fine, Jaemin.”

You heard it all, and Jaemin feels like he is going to throw up. All he can do is scramble and grasp for the last remaining straws, protesting vehemently, “I wasn’t the one who said any of that!”

You laugh humorlessly, “Is that supposed to make it better? You’re better than them because you didn’t say it out loud? You didn’t deny it or defend me either, so what’s your point?

His mouth goes dry, and he opens and shuts it several times. Swallowing harshly, he barely manages to croak out a weak reply. “That’s— I didn’t mean—I only really thought that before I knew you.”

“And that’s just it, isn’t it? You already judged me before you even knew me based on how I look. Even now, you still judge me.” He starts to open his mouth again, but you merely shrug as if you’ve accepted this for all your life, and he closes it meekly, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably, unable to meet your eyes

“That’s okay. I’m used to it. That’s how it is for people like me. I know I’m not someone people fall head over heels for immediately. I’m the one who reaches out to people first. Guys don’t fall over at my feet, wanting to carry my books to class for me. The pretty girls ask me to take their Insta pictures for them. I don’t get free drinks at the bar or invited to all the parties. I’ve never been asked out by a total stranger, and no one writes their number on my cup of coffee,” you say matter-of-factly, a resigned smile on your face, and it has him curling into himself internally, his conscience slowly eating away at him.

“And you know what?” you continue, “That's life. That’s okay because I’m happy with who I am. I like who I am. If I have to give myself up to get Donghyuck or you to like me, then he’s—you—are not the one. I shouldn’t change who I am for a boy—or anyone for that matter.”

“That’s not—We were doing this for you. You wanted… you wanted this makeover. You wanted this.” He’s desperately clutching onto the end of the rope, and you’re holding the scissors to cut it off. You show him another half smile, one that doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“It stopped being about me. It started being about what you wanted, what you liked, what you wanted me to be. I was your charity case, your little Barbie doll.”

You tilt your head to the side, studying the boy in front of you and he silently squirms under your scrutiny. “Tell me one thing, and be honest. Did you even know I existed before Donghyuck mentioned me as a tutoring option? Before you needed me for a grade booster? Would you have liked me then?”

Would you have liked me then? Your question echoes in his mind, and Jaemin freezes, dropping the clothes in his hands. You know. You know he likes you, and the embarrassment creeps up on him in the form of carmine dusting his ears and cheeks, like spilled wine on white linen.

“There are over one hundred students in the class,” he objects. “Sorry for not fighting my way through all of them to find you and have a crush on you sooner.”

Jaemin seems to not realize that he just confirmed his feelings for you aloud, and perhaps, if he had told you this a few weeks ago, you would have been ecstatic and called up Lana and Moon the second he was out of earshot. But this is now, and you’ve grown exponentially since then.

You give him a wistful smile, and as the dread piles up in the pit of his stomach, he knows this is the start of his downfall (or perhaps, he’s already been falling this entire time). He slipped from the pedestal already long ago, and it’s only a matter of time before he hits rock bottom. The higher the pedestal, the harder the fall from grace.

“I sat in front of you diagonally. You asked me to pass notes to my friend. You know, the girl who sat next to me? Alice? The one you asked out and went on a few dates with at the beginning of the semester?” You state the facts calmly, and his eyes widen at that. “It’s okay. But you must’ve remembered that we were in the same group for a presentation last semester, right?”

Jaemin stays silent, and you have your answer. It’s one you’ve known deep down in your heart all this time, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt any less. After all, someone can announce they’re going to punch you, you can even see the strike coming to your gut, but simply knowing doesn’t do anything to ease the painful aftermath.

You chuckle humorlessly, fingers uncurling and recurling into fists as your nails press moon shaped crescents into your palms before you look him straight in the eyes. “I don’t fit into your cookie cutter life or match your rose colored Instagram filters. I don’t have the perfect model figure or the perfect face. I don’t look like the girl of your dreams, and I know that it just fucking kills you inside that you fell in love with me.”

Jaemin flinches, curling in on himself when he finally meets your gaze and finally sees the absolute hell fires of fury and repugnance ablaze in your eyes. You know that he loves you, and he’s ashamed that you’re right. You’re absolutely right.

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

He loves how smart you are, how witty you are, how funny you are, how genuine you are, how you understand every obscure Haikyuu!! reference he makes, how you laugh at his jokes, how you dm him the funniest memes on Instagram, how you wear your purple scrunchie around your wrist during every exam for good luck and how you let him borrow it too. He loves how you treat him as more than just a pretty face, how you actually listen to him and make him feel like what he says matters, how you make him feel different—special—like he doesn’t have to compete with all the other Barbies and Kens out there. He’s much too vain, much too superficial, much too selfish, much too proud to admit it out loud, but he’s in love with you, and yet, he can’t bring himself to love every single part of you.

And the truth of that matter is the ugliest of all.

But there are standards that he has to uphold, why can’t you understand this? He lowered his standards for you, and you still couldn’t meet them. You have the personality already, you are this close to being the ideal girl, and well, you both have to make changes. It’s the prince and princess who live happily ever after, not the prince and the pauper, or god forbid, the ogre (No offense, Shrek). This is real life, and society has unspoken rules. He sacrificed so much for you, he put his reputation on the line, so why couldn’t you do this for him? After all, love always has some sacrifices.

Right?

But when Jaemin looks at you now, there’s everything, but love staring back at him. You look at him like he’s a repulsive piece of chewed gum stubbornly stuck to the bottom of your Steve Madden heel. It strikes a nerve and completely eats him to the core, but he pulls himself upright because nobody talks to him like that, nobody looks at him like that, certainly not someone like you. He invented you, he made you into the next Princess Mia, the next Cady Heron, the next Serena van der Woodsen, and this is how you show your gratitude?

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. You act like I’m the first person to judge first based on looks. Everyone does it. Am I supposed to strike up a conversation with every girl on the off chance she’s everything I want? Do you think anyone would fall for you immediately when you looked like that? The saying is ‘love at first sight’, unless you’re one to believe in the whole ‘love is blind’ idea, which you clearly do,” Jaemin snaps, sneering as he eyes you up and down. His heart and mind are screaming, crying, begging for him to stop, but his pride dropkicks him headfirst into the hole he dug for himself, raging for him to get the upper hand again.

“How is it my fault for not knowing you’re the whole package when the wrapping doesn’t match the contents?”

The unfiltered words slip out of his mouth, and he immediately regrets it, closing his eyes, but it’s too late. He sees the instant look of devastation that appears on your face, and it hits him like a boxer’s punch to the chest. He starts to backtrack to no avail. You play stupid games, you win stupid prizes.

“I am never going to be enough for you, am I?” you whisper, your breaths stuttering in your chest as your initial sarcasm turns into quiet truths now that eat away at him. “I’m either too much or too little. There’s always going to be something you’ll want to change, something you want to fix.”

“Y/N… I… I��m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It was an accident. I just—”

Jaemin can’t continue on, his voice trailing off as he doesn’t know what to say. He wants to keep apologizing, he’ll do anything it takes to take back what he just said, but the damage has already been dealt. He’s always known he’s an asshole, sure, but this is beyond anything he’s ever said or done in the past. He just secured the seat of honor in Dante's ninth circle of hell, and there’s no return ticket.

“You just what? You thought it would be okay to say anything to my face just because it’s not up to your standards?”

Jaemin’s face pales. “N-no, I—this isn’t how it's supposed to go, I just—It just slipped out, can we start over?”

A public rejection from any boy or girl would hurt infinitely less than the words Jaemin spat in your face. The things that his friends said before within earshot? You could take it because you couldn’t care less about them at the end of the day. But this? This was coming from someone you trusted, someone you care about, someone you lov—No, you don’t even want to think about that.

Jaemin never loved you. He never even liked you. The harsh reality slaps you like a cold shower in the middle of a winter night, and you want to curl up into a ball under your covers and cry until you fall asleep.

And yet, you will not let him humiliate you any longer. The spell has been broken. Cinderella is back to her rags, and her Prince Charming is nowhere to be found. She’s stuck as a toad that’ll never change. Eyes watering, you inhale sharply, laughing quietly in disbelief before you straighten up and your face hardens.

“Are you actually listening to yourself? You think we can start over? You treat people like they’re disposable, like they’re nothing, and once they don’t match with your theme of the week, you toss them even faster than the time it takes for you to choose an outfit.” Your chest is heaving, and the tears threaten to fall, but you push on, swallowing the lump in your throat. He reaches out for you, and you take a step back, shaking your head.

“You can’t hurt people and expect them to just let it go. I get it, I know I’m not the thinnest, or the nicest, or the funniest, or the smartest, or the prettiest. I know that I’m hard to love. I get it, Jaemin. I’ve always known that.”

You choke on the last sentence, swallowing hard to stifle the hiccup that bubbles up in your throat. “But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like shit.”

Rapidly blinking back your tears, you march over to your door and throw it open with such force that the doorknob could have left a dent in the wall. You don’t want to cry, you’ve always been an angry crier, and you desperately want the tears to stop. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry and hearing your confession. He doesn’t deserve any of that. Jaemin doesn’t deserve your tears, and he certainly doesn’t deserve your love.

“Get out.”

Jaemin stares at you, mouth agape like a fish on land. You gesture heatedly towards the outside, choking slightly. “What are you waiting for? I said get out.”

“Y/N, I—”

“Am I a joke to you?” you quietly ask, and his eyes widen.

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

A single tear manages to escape despite your best, frustrated efforts, and Jaemin instinctively reaches out for you. You swat his hand away, angrily swiping away the stray droplet with the sleeve of your sweater. His heart wrenches in his chest as his hand dangles limply by his side. You’re crying because of him. He caused that, and he feels like the biggest piece of shit in the world.

You refuse to let any more fall, glaring at him through the unshed tears and entirely disgusted with the boy standing in front of you. “Don’t touch me. I’m not crying for you. I’m crying because I’m so angry I wasted all my time on someone who never cared about me.”

That’s not true—I love you, he wants to say, but his mouth refuses to form the words because his pride won’t loosen its grip on his heart. He loves you, he’s in love with you, why can’t you see that?

You steel yourself, taking one shaky breath before looking pointedly at the door and repeating yourself, “Get out. Leave me alone.”

Numbly, he makes his way over to the door, ears ringing. You glower at him, the intensity searing and digging into the side of his face. When he stands outside of your dorm, he struggles to turn around and face you helplessly. Your eyes soften for a moment, and it shoves the dagger deeper into his chest when he recognizes that look. It’s the same look he wore when he first saw you, and the shame that emerges nearly chokes him. The mixture of pity and disappointment painted across your face revolts him entirely, and he feels like he’s going to vomit. Jaemin is utterly humiliated.

Your gaze intensifies once more when you stand up to your full height, stare unwavering and chin raised up. Gripping the doorframe tightly, you drive the final words into his heart like a stake.

“I am too good for you, Jaemin, and I will never love someone like you. I deserve better.”

And for a split second, you almost convinced yourself when you said that.

You shut the door in his face.

Jaemin calls your name through the door several times, desperation ringing clear in his tone, but it falls on deaf ears. Apologies are a fool’s best friend, and you’d be a fool yourself to believe them. Holding your breath, you wait until you hear his footsteps echo down the hallway, until the solitude greets you like an old friend. And at last, you drop the facade and let yourself cry. Back pressed against the door and head bowed, you finally let go until all the tears are gone and you’re gasping for breath, the quiet hiccups and sobs bursting forth and breaking the silence in the same way he broke your heart over and over again.

You love him.

There’s no one to blame, but yourself. In the end, it’s all your fault that you were in this mess. How can you be so stupid? You can put lipstick on a pig, but it would still be a pig. Built up insecurities will bubble up to the surface no matter how much mascara and blush you apply. The warning signs were all there in flashing technicolor, but they were all tied up with shiny ribbons and deceiving perfect smiles. They lit up your usual drab life of blacks, whites, and grays, and you were blinded by the glitz and glamor— blinded by him. It is hard to see the red flags and stop signs through the rose colored Instagram filters. You trusted him and gave him your heart when you should’ve known it’d end like this.

You got greedy and tried to steal the spotlight, and you received it, front and center. You are the joke. You are the punchline, the comedic relief, the center stage of a slapstick comedy show. This is what you get for going off script.

Because you love him.

You were supposed to continue to delude yourself into thinking that you don’t want to find love, that you enjoy being on your own, that you enjoy being single, that you are perfectly content with never experiencing romance instead of facing the cold harsh reality head on: no one sees you as desirable or dateable. And when your friends tell you that you’re not missing out on anything with dating, you were supposed to nod and agree, when secretly, you desperately wish you can experience that for yourself instead of living vicariously through your friends’ love lives or the 3 a.m. scrollings through cheesy romance fanfiction on Tumblr. You’re been fine all these years, haven’t you? You were doing so well living on your own.

But you love him.

It’ll come when you least expect it, that’s what they tell you every time, but what are you to do when you can’t help but expect it your whole life? What are you to do when you so desperately want to know what it feels like to be loved in that way? God, when is it going to be your turn? When is it your turn to daydream about someone and know that they’re daydreaming about you too? When is it your turn to have someone walk you home? When is it your turn to hold hands with someone? When is it your turn to feel the giddy butterflies and experience a good night kiss? When is it your turn to be kissed in the rain? When is it your turn to experience the romance you can only dream about?

How much longer will you have to be patient? How much longer do you have to wait, living in denial over the soul crushing reality of it all? How many more stars do you need to wish upon until you learn to accept the painstaking truth? You weren’t meant to be loved in this lifetime.

God, you love him.

It’s embarrassing when it shouldn’t be. You just want to be touched by hands that care, loved by a heart that beats for you, desired by someone who thinks you are enough. It’s the way you would give up ten years of your life in a heartbeat to experience being the prettiest girl in the room just once and have people look at you. The overwhelming shame washes over you when you never had your first kiss until now with a boy who never cared about you, never went on a date before, never had a boyfriend before, and you have to lie and say it’s by choice when it’s not. It’s not. You have so much love to give, you have so much space in your life to share, you have so much time to spend with that special someone, but the grains of the hourglass are spent waiting and longing for a stranger who will never come.

The thought of it all just makes you sick. It makes you sick that you wish so terribly that someone would just look in your direction for once. For once, you want to be looked at in that way like all the female protagonists experience in the movies. And you know your value shouldn’t be based on desire and objectification, you absolutely know it, but it still hurts when you go out with your friends and you’re the one dancing alone or sitting back and watching the purses. You’re the one standing there by yourself, while every single one of your pretty friends is being approached by someone. It still hurts so fucking bad when you try to put yourself out there, but guys have already moved past you or don’t even acknowledge your existence simply because of your face or a number on a scale. And when he came into your life and gave you one measly ounce of attention, you ran with it when you should have run away. It’s absolutely exhausting, leaving you out of breath and on the verge of throwing up, to chase after someone who never even looked at you, to chase after their attention, praying to god that they’ll one day make you feel like you are worth it, that you’ll finally feel some sort of value.

Forget ever being loved, you weren’t even wanted.

There is no such thing as happily ever after’s for the extras. Girls like you don’t get to star in love stories. Why did you ever think it would end differently?

You love him.

And he ruined you. Even worse, you let him.

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

x. i can’t go out tonight. *fake coughs* i’m sick.

You would like to give a formal apology to Bella Swan for not understanding why she was so depressed over Edward leaving her for six months and making fun of her. In your defense, you were like nine years old when the movie came out, and you were more interested in Barbies back then (Plus, you were Team Jacob because you wanted a pet dog at the time).

You didn’t even go through a break up, but it sure as hell feels like one.

You probably would continue to wallow in your misery for weeks, clutching onto the only two men you could ever trust in your entire life: Ben and Jerry’s while watching every iconic 90s and early 2000s rom-coms on repeat if it weren’t for your best friends. But enough is enough, and you get that you shouldn’t be spending weeks crying over a boy who hasn’t even spent one second thinking about you. It’s just hard to take that first step back up again when you feel like you tripped and fell all the way down to rock bottom.

And so, you finally let your friends into your shared dorm room, and you definitely do not miss the poorly disguised look of disgust and shock when they see the giant mess on your side of the room (You’re very grateful that Giselle has been staying at her boyfriend’s place for weeks now). It’s an intervention at this point—one that you desperately need, and you know it.

“Okay, give it to me straight,” you sniffle, still wrapped up in your comforter like a giant burrito and clutching onto the ice cream carton like a lifeline. You know that your friends will just rip it off like a bandage, and you have mentally prepared yourself for it. Your voice comes out wobbly still from the tears, and you hate it. “I know I was stupid for letting a guy walk all over me like that. I know if any of you were in this situation, I’d tell you that you’re better than that and to get over him, but it’s just so hard to do it.”

“He who shall not be named is a scumbag, and I’m gonna kill him the next time I see him,” Lana states, pursing her lips together. “I hope he has a bad hair day every single day because I know he’d be screaming, crying, throwing up if he could never get a perfect selfie ever again.”

You choke back a sob, giving her a watery smile. “That would destroy him.”

“Good. Fuck him. Metaphorically, not literally. Why should you care if you are the girl of his dreams or not? Be the girl of your dreams. You’re gorgeous, smart, and funny and he’s just some guy who still doesn’t know how to use the correct ‘your’ in an Instagram caption.”

You can write down a thousand and one reasons why he was the most horrendous, most awful, most vile person to ever grace your life. But at the end of the day, why does it matter? What good would it do? You still love him, and that’s the worst pill to swallow.

“I just—I’m having a hard time believing that.”

“Y/N, if you believed that Jaemin wasn’t a shitbag for the past four weeks and all the time before that in his life, then you can believe in yourself right now for two minutes and listen to me,” Lana says firmly, clutching onto your shoulders and forcing you to look her in the eye as she continues on, “Remember the Barbie movie? He’s just Ken. Ken doesn’t have a good day unless Barbie looks at him.”

“Yeah, like channel your inner Gina Linetti. Listen to Chelsea Peretti. ‘Men used to hunt.’ What’s Jaemin doing? He’s pushing twenty and doing aegyo on camera,” Moon chimes in, and Lana nods furiously in agreement before elbowing Yangyang in his rib not-so-subtly. “Contribute to the conversation, Yang.”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Yangyang says, pausing in the middle of your room and placing his hands on his hips.

“Oh congrats, I didn’t know you could do that. But stop because you’re not good at it at all,” Moon says, completely ignoring the dirty look he throws at her immediately. The little exchange brings a small smile to your face and it feels nice to laugh. You’ve forgotten how to do that. You miss your friends. You’re grateful for them for not giving up on you when you already have.

“Come on, let’s go see ‘Crazy Rich Asians.’ It’ll be fun. We can watch Lana fangirl over seeing her favorite actor,” Moon encourages you, and Yangyang nods in agreement. “Yeah, she picked a better man after the Jaehyun fiasco.”

“Oh my god, let it go. I didn’t like him that much,” Lana huffs softly, grabbing one of your spare pillows and launching it square into his face in retaliation, and he lets out out a high pitched shriek that makes you giggle.

“Weren’t you gonna go see it with your best friend, Yang?” You ask, glancing over at him and he shakes his head, a slightly sour expression on his face. “Nah, she’s going with Dejun already.”

“So unfortunately, we’re stuck with him now,” Moon says solemnly as Yangyang immediately throws her a dirty look. The look on his face makes you laugh, and it makes you feel a little better and your heart a little lighter.

You shouldn’t have to beg someone to love you; the right person will never make you beg. The right person would never chip away at you, erasing different parts of you, until you fit their picture perfect mold, until there’s nothing left of you. You would never have to call your friends at 4 am, drunk and crying for their validation, praying to whatever higher being is up there for them to take you back. Your friends have never looked at the scars and freckles dotting your skin and suddenly deemed you as unlovable. Your best friend wouldn’t call you fat and point out every single one of your insecurities. You are not unlovable because you decided to eat a third taco or decided to not wear makeup today or didn’t shave your legs. You may fight with your parents and siblings, but never once have you felt unloved by them. Never once did you have to get on your knees and plead for them to love you back.

You know you are worthy of love because your friends and family make it look so easy. They have shown you what love is really like time and time again. You’ve been a shitty friend these past few months, prioritizing a boy over the ones who really matter. They’ve been so patient with you this entire time, and with an open heart, you realize that it is time you finally start properly loving them and yourself too.

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

Jaemin slinks out of the lecture hall, noting the dirty looks your friends have sent him from the other side of the room. He’s been standing outside of the classroom before the session starts for the past few weeks in hopes of catching you, looking like a complete creep (and definitely feeling like one). But what’s he to do when you wouldn’t return any of his texts or calls? It’s humiliating, and he feels smaller than an ant under a microscope.

He pretends to leave class early, staking out in the bathroom across from the classroom. Counting down the minutes, he sees the first wave of students pouring out from the classrooms and finally spots you. His heart jumps to his throat, and his hands begin to grow clammy.

You’re back to wearing your loose jeans and basic t-shirts, your favorite purple scrunchie wrapped around your wrist and an old Jansport backpack slung over your shoulder, decorated with pins of all those familiar characters from his favorite anime. Your face is bare, aside from tinted lip balm, and you’re smiling. You’re laughing at something your friend next to you says, and with a sinking heart, Jaemin realizes that perhaps maybe you are pretty in the slightest way.

He finds himself taking one step towards you, then another, maneuvering around the other students rushing to leave. He’s getting closer and closer, if he called out your name, you would hear him. But you wouldn’t stop for him this time. He knows that.

Jaemin is getting closer, just a few more steps until he can just stretch his hand out and tap your shoulder, and his heart is pounding so hard in his chest until a pretty manicured hand grabs his upper arm lightly.

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

He pauses, turning around and seeing Somi staring back at him in surprise as she continues, “I thought you don’t have any classes at this time.”

“Yeah, I—” he hesitates, glancing over at your retreating figure and Somi follows his gaze, her eyes softening as she lets go of his arm.

“Oh, were you waiting for her? Sorry about that,” she apologizes, pulling away and he shakes his head, shrinking back. Maybe it was for the better that you got away. It’s probably a sign from the universe telling him to let it go.

“No, it’s okay. She doesn’t want to talk to me anyway,” Jaemin admits at last, starting to slink off, and Somi furrows her eyebrows, a puzzled expression gracing her face as she hurries slightly to catch up with him, matching his pace. He exits the building, crushing the graded economics midterm with a red 89 circled at the top in his fist and shoving it haphazardly into the side pocket of his backpack usually reserved for his water bottle.

“What are you talking about? The two of you are practically glued at the hip. She adores you,” she laughs softly, tilting her head slightly as she glances over at him. He ignores her look, continuing on his way off of campus and towards his safe haven: a small dog friendly boba shop snug in between a bookstore and a 24 hour laundromat he frequents more often than he likes to admit.

“I honestly thought you’d ask her out at some point.”

Jaemin winces at that, her light response rubbing salt into his open wounds, stitches torn and bleeding, and he spits out the next words defensively, his pride rearing its ugly head again. “No way. I never liked her like that. She’s not my type at all. Have you seen her?”

“What is wrong with you?” Somi frowns at him, stopping in her tracks, and he halts, unable to look at her and throwing out a dismissive “What?” In her direction.

“Why are you talking about her like that? I thought you liked her,” she answers, staring at him in disbelief, and he curls his fingers into fists, gripping tightly as a multitude of conflicting emotions war inside of him. He starts to walk again, barely glancing over at Somi.

“She was just my tutor. I passed my midterm, so I don’t need to be around her anymore.” He responds weakly, uncurling and recurling his fingers into fists as he desperately tries to stay calm.

It was so much easier to pretend around his other friends. Aside from Jeno, they always took his words at face value, never one to pry. And Jeno would never push him, knowing that he would eventually come to him at his own pace. But Somi? He’s forgotten about how she can be after she’s been so busy with her schedule, missing out from the majority of hang outs for her social work and events, and their class schedules never overlapped. She can spot a lie a mile away. She actually cares. In a way, she reminds him of you, and he can’t bear to meet her gaze anymore.

“She’s your friend,” Somi retorts, following him into the boba shop, briefly stopping to pet the adorable Samoyed wagging its tail near the entrance. “You spent more time with her than any of us, except maybe Jeno. And you weren’t just studying in the library. I’ve seen her on your finsta and close friend stories.”

“Okay, and now she’s not. She’s not my friend anymore,” Jaemin answers sharply, punching his order into the self service machine. “It happens. People stop being friends. So back off, Somi.”

“Jeez, what is your problem?” she snaps back, following him towards the back, settling on a pillow in one of the comfortable nooks converted into a small seating area across from him. “I caught you following Y/N, and now you say you’re not friends?”

Jaemin hesitates, fiddling with one of the decorative pillows in his lap. “We got into an argument.”

“Yeah, but friends fight. You can apologize, right?”

Jaemin is silent.

Somi stares at him, and he wants to curl into himself. It’s the very same look you gave him before you shut the door in his face, and he feels the bile in his throat already. Her voice is quiet. “Jaemin, what did you do?”

“I—,” he whispers, breaking off and clenching his fists. He is already replaying that moment in his head, seeing the look of utter devastation on your face, and he wants to run away. The ugly truth is front and center, and he is unable to ignore it any longer.

“I fucked up, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” Jaemin bursts out, burying his face in his hands and unable to face his friend. He closes his eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I said some shitty things to her, some really fucked up stuff.”

“Like fucked up as in messy drunk thoughts or fucked up, fucked up?” Somi says softly, hesitantly, as if she doesn’t want to believe her friend is the worst of the worst. Jaemin’s heart sinks even lower than rock bottom as he continues to hang his head low.

“I…” Jaemin’s voice is less than a whisper as he finally confesses the horrible truth to someone for the first time. His voice cracks as he recalls every single disgusting thing and insecurity he flung back into your face.

“I said that it would be stupid for her to believe in love at first sight, that she wasn’t up to my standards, that it’s her fault, that I was ashamed of her, ashamed that I even liked her because of the way she looked.”

The silence is deafening, and Jaemin feels the same wave of humiliation wash over him as it did on that very night. Somi is speechless, and he can’t bear to look at her, one hundred percent knowing that there would be a raw look of utter disgust and horror on her face because that is the exact way he would look at himself. He sits there in silence as the guilt and shame pile up even higher; he is past the point of wallowing in self pity, already drowning and gasping for breath.

“Jaemin… she was your friend,” she murmurs, gazing at him, mouth agape as the shock finally settles in, and he flinches slightly at the past tense. “She actually cared about you. She made you happy.”

“I know,” he says softly.

“She was the best thing that ever happened to you.” Somi continues quietly.

Jaemin sucks in a sharp breath, biting his bottom lip. “I know.”

“Then why?”

Because I was stupid, he thinks silently, Because I am a coward. Because she embarrassed me. She made me feel small. She made me feel insignificant. She made me look at myself in the mirror, and for the first time in my life, I absolutely hated what I saw staring back at me.

“I don’t know,” Jaemin whispers, staring down at his lap in resignation and unable to swallow the truth.

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

You continue to avoid Jaemin in Macroeconomics, choosing to slip into class at the very last minute. You see him waiting in front of the classroom every session for the past three weeks, searching for you, but you opt to go to the professor’s office hours every time before class and end up walking with her to class as she answers your questions about the assigned readings and problems. Alice saves you a seat in the front row, and you never told her but you’re grateful when you realize she must have asked her other friends to sit around the two of you, effectively barricading Jaemin from any attempt at sitting next to you. Finals week comes and goes with the winter break following suit, and you think he has finally given up on any attempt at reaching you.

But life has an unfortunate penchant for bringing up things—or people—you wish to forget when you least expect it. It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday four weeks into the spring semester, and you’re exiting your last class of the day, tucking your laptop into the cute tote bag you bought from the New York Strands bookstore as you walk across campus.

“Y/N.” Jaemin appears in front of you, and suddenly, all the air in your lungs seem to have been sucked out. It’s almost embarrassing how two months of self progress can be toppled over as easily as a house of cards. Your brain says to hate him, but one glance at him still has you weak in the knees. You take a deep breath, counting to three before walking around and ignoring him entirely.

“Please, can we just talk for five minutes? I’m sorry.” He desperately reaches out for you, and you can see some people starting to take note of the two of you, their gazes on your back.

“Leave me alone, Jaemin.” You continue to walk away, hiking up the strap of your bag higher over your shoulder, desperately trying to quell the stupid colony of butterflies in your stomach that have laid dormant for so long. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Please, just five minutes—three minutes—and I’ll leave you alone forever. Listen to me,” he says in a quiet tone. It was an order, a request, and a plea all at once.

You pause, scrutinizing him for a few moments before grabbing his arm and dragging him away from prying eyes. You stop on the secluded side of the building underneath the magnolia trees before dropping his hand. “You have two minutes. Talk.”

“I’m an idiot.”

“Good to know you’re self aware. You’re finally experiencing some character growth.”

Jaemin grimaces at your stony expression. “Okay, that was deserved. I truly am sorry, Y/N. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have lashed out at you, and I’m an asshole who took advantage of you. You do deserve better. You deserve someone better than me. But I want to be that person. You make me a better person.”

You stay quiet, and Jaemin fidgets around. “Is that… is that okay? I know it’s selfish of me, but—”

“You’re right, that is selfish of you.”

Jaemin falls silent at that, face flushing before he speaks up meekly, “Can’t we start over? Try again?”

In that moment, you truly pity the boy in front of you. The lost expression on his face tells it all as he desperately clutches onto whatever lifeline you’re willing to toss out. But he’s causing you to drown, and you need to cut the cord and put yourself first for once. Maybe you can change him. But you can’t do this to yourself again.

You take a deep breath and pinch yourself, reminding yourself that this is the same boy who broke your heart because it wasn’t pretty enough for him. “There is no trying again. You never tried, and I’m done trying for you. Jaemin, you don’t love me. You’ve never felt that way towards me.”

“Yes, I have! I do! I really do,” he protests, and you shake your head, taking a step back. He starts to take one step forward towards you and hesitates, staying in his original spot. Your gaze is cold, and he finds himself wishing that you would look at him in the way you used to.

“You love the idea of me: the one you built up in your head,” you say, tone growing quiet. “But I’m nothing like her. To some degree, I think I might be the first genuine connection you ever made with a girl. You liked the way I felt about you and how I acted for you. I changed everything about myself for you, I would’ve followed you anywhere, I would’ve done anything for you, and you took advantage of that. You took advantage of the fact that I love you.”

You may not truly know what love is, but you know it’s something he never gave you. It stings, knowing that even after all of this, you still secretly, desperately long for the type of love you know will always be out of your reach. A part of you wants to believe him, but this time, you listen to your mind instead of your heart.

Jaemin’s head shoots up at your confession, eyes widening in belated realization, and you curl your lips inward, biting your lower lip. You love him. You love him, he now knows, and to your surprise, it didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would. Three steps forward and two steps back is still one step in the right direction.

“One day, you’re gonna find someone who’s finally enough for you—someone who’s worth making pancakes for,” you say wistfully, pausing for a minute before gathering the courage to continue.

“And you’re gonna fall in love with them. Like really love them. You’re gonna love them so much that you’ll try your hardest to be enough for them. You’re gonna try so fucking hard to be the one they want, the one they love, that you’ll do anything for them. You’ll even change yourself for better—or for worse.” You grip the strap of your tote bag even tighter, a dull pang in your heart making its appearance, and Jaemin winces, lowering his eyes as the regret and guilt pools into his stomach.

“But sometimes, it won’t be enough. It’s not going to be enough,” you continue, swallowing hard. “And it’ll never be enough for them. You’re willing to move heaven and earth for them, but they won’t notice. Or maybe they don’t even care. No matter how hard you try to love them, it won’t matter unless they want you. Unless they choose you. And it’ll hurt like hell. It’ll hurt every single time you see them, every time you hear them, every time you think of them.”

Your voice softens, shaking slightly as you take in a wavering breath before pushing forward. “And when it hurts, you’re going to think of me. You’re going to remember me because that’s when you’ll understand what it feels like. That’s when you’ll know how I felt. How it feels to not be enough. How it feels to have your heart ripped to shreds by someone you care about—someone you love.”

His heart drops, and you give him a wistful smile before it quickly disappears, and your expression schools into one of indifference. You continue to walk forward confidently, brushing past his frozen figure. You see your friends waiting for you on the other side of the lawn, and you look over your shoulder at Jaemin one last time, taking a deep breath and steeling yourself.

“And you know what? I hope to fucking god it hurts you as much as you hurt me.”

The world continues to spin, you keep moving forward, and he remains rooted in his spot, unable to look away from you. There are so many Barbies and Kens out there, so many more Na Jaemins who will come into your life and sweep you off your feet, and you’ll make them feel special and more than a pretty face, he belatedly realizes, he’s disposable and so easily replaceable, but there’s only ever going to be one you.

As he watches you walk away, Jaemin thinks he is starting to understand.

EPILOGUE.

Life likes to play cruel jokes, and the senior year gives you the most hilarious one of all in the form of your final capstone project. Last you heard about Jaemin, he had switched his major to pre med (which was ironic to you since that field would require him to care about other people, which he clearly proved to be incapable of). However, your university decided to implement a cross collaboration between the various schools, and it’s just your luck that you find yourself paired up with Jaemin. Giving him a tight smile as you take a seat across from him in the library room he reserved, you take out your laptop.

Jaemin had asked earlier if you wanted to request a new assigned partner, but you highly doubt any professor would switch up a pairing on account of one person being guilty of being the greatest asshole to ever exist (Plus, you’ll come across many guys like him in your field of work, so you might as well start building up your tolerance now).

It is the final time you will meet up with him before the big presentation, and the two of you work together in silence, only breaking it to discuss the project topic. It is neither comfortable nor uncomfortable, settled somewhere in between—kind of like a purgatory for relationships. You’ve stopped thinking about him a while ago already, but seeing someone who once was a part of your life always brings back memories, whether wanted or not.

“I met someone.”

Jaemin breaks the ice, unable to hold it back any longer. He feels like he’s going to explode if he doesn't get this off of his chest. There is a slight pause in your writing before you resume, but he knows you are listening.

“I met her after… after our…” He trails off. He doesn’t know what to call it—what the two of you had. An almost relationship. “… After us.”

You continue to write, taking note of several points to be discussed based on your slide. He puts down his pen, clasping his hands together as he fiddles with one of the rings wrapped around his fingers.

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

You sharply inhale for a brief millisecond before you jot down another bullet point. One, two, three, four, five bullet points until you can breathe normally again. You’re twenty two years old, but you suddenly feel like you’re eighteen again. You sometimes loathed your younger self, but because of her, you learned so many things (Forgiveness is one of them).

“I don’t know what else to do, except keep making her pancakes.” Jaemin sits there idly for a few moments, entirely unaware of your inner turmoil, before he laughs derisively, “She’s in love with my best friend. She never told me, but I can just tell.”

There’s another pause from him. Staring down at his notebook, he swallows hard, the lump in his throat never fully going away. His voice cracks as he whispers out his question:

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

Your pen stops moving across the paper, dropping to the side. There’s a black scribble from where it fell. You still continue to look at the index card, focusing on the college ruled lines until they become a mosaic blur of blue, black, and white.

“Eventually.”

Your tone is impassive, and his head snaps up at your reply. You pick up the pen again. You don’t look at him, but you know he’s staring at you, an unrecognizable expression in his eyes.

Perhaps, it would have been different if you had met the present day him back then instead. Perhaps, it would’ve worked out. Maybe he would have made another girl fall in love with him, broke her heart, and come out unscathed. Or maybe he would still be the same as his past self if he hadn’t met you. It’s the butterfly effect; you don’t know what would have happened, but you don’t care. Not anymore.

By now, you have mourned him for longer than you have loved him.

“Y/N, you were never hard to love. I was bad at loving. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

And this time, you know he truly means it—that Jaemin truly understands. It is good that he has learned and tried to become a better person. You just wish it didn’t have to come at the expense of you.

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

The threads holding the pieces of your heart together these past three years have always been so fragile. Just one tug at the heart strings, and everything unravels so easily, like grains of sand slipping through your fingers. You’ve nearly forgotten what heartbreak feels like, the old wounds opening up for a long forgotten friend that you had prayed you would never meet again.

You discover that it hurts even more the second time around.

“I wish I fell in love with you back then.”

His tone is forlorn, a silent resolution wrapped in happenstance. You continue to write down more notes for your part of the presentation, the soft scritches of your pen against paper almost masking your quiet response, and Jaemin nearly misses it.

“So did I.”

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julymusings · 2 months ago

Text

i could be yours part one

i could be soft and sweet, i could be hard and loud, i could be anything you ever need somehow.

prequel to simplicity!!!

or; an entire summer of chance encounters with the so-called prince of gotham [9.5k]

Jason todd x f!reader warnings: intoxication & vomiting (w/ description), suggestiveness, discussions of toxic relationships (cheating, emotional manipulation, misogyny); special dedication to @fluffy-anna who inspired this au with the ask that started it all‼️‼️😳

part one | part two | series masterlist

June 12th

Jason finds his brother at the entrance of the event, waiting for him with crossed arms and looking displeased.

“You are very late, Todd.” Damian looks up at him. His face is shadowed in front of Jason, whose head blocks the sun from Damian’s view. He wears a t-shirt with the Wayne Animal Sanctuary logo printed across the front and a name tag on the left side of his chest.

“Sorry, kid,” Jason says, and he means it. “Traffic.”

“No matter. I have a job for you.” Damian turns toward a table with a sign that reads, ‘Volunteer Sign-in”, but Jason stays rooted in place.

“What? No, I’m not letting you put me to work,” Jason scoffs.

“Why else would you be here?” Damian asks, looking affronted.

“You asked me to show up, I showed up. Isn’t that enough?”

“It is not, Todd. All you have to do is sit in a chair and ensure no one steals a dog. Is that too much work for you?”

“If someone manages to steal a dog from you of all people, they deserve to keep it.”

“Flattery is not going to get you out of doing work. Do not push me.”

Jason snickers. “Don’t push you? Or what? You’re half my size. I’m so scared.”

Damian huffs. His bright eyes narrow to something more menacing. He takes a sharp breath in for what Jason thinks is an attempt at puffing his chest and appearing intimidating— he’s wrong.

“Wow, Todd,” Damian bursts out loud enough for the surrounding tables to turn their attention. “You think we should send them to a kill shelter? Shame on you!”

Jason can feel the scathing stares shot at him without breaking his glare at Damian. “Funny. That’s really funny, Damian.” Jason says, sarcastically. “I’m leaving now.”

“You think we should abandon them on the side of the road?” Damian shrieks. “That’s low even for you.” He shakes his head disapprovingly.

Jason doesn’t engage, only turning around to walk back to his bike. He stops short, however, when he sees a little boy looking up at him with widened eyes. He's frowning, one tiny hand fisted in the hem of his cat-decorated shirt. The other is wrapped around the fingers of another man, presumably his father. Though Jason towers over him, the father looks at him with disgust.

He stifles a groan and turns back to Damian, who sports a brilliantly cheerful smile. Jason drops his head and sighs. “Where do I go?”

“You have to sign in, first.” Damian leads him to the center table, and Jason accepts a pen from the stink-eyed woman behind it to add his name to the list.

“Will you be making a donation?” Damian asks. When Jason hands back the pen, the woman purses her lips in contempt. Jason glares at Damian, but he is unmoving in his fake oblivion.

Jason reaches for his wallet.

“You could at least pretend you’re excited to be here.”

You hold your hand in front of your face, shielding it from the brightness of the afternoon. “Why?” You grumble. “I doubt the animals care.”

“Of course they do!” Your friend is much too bubbly for someone who stayed up until early morning drinking wine and watching reruns of nineties sitcoms on cable. “They can literally smell your emotions. They’ll know if you hate them.”

“I don’t hate them.” You roll your eyes, though it’s blocked by your large sunglasses. “I would just really rather be in bed right now. And I’m surprised that you wouldn’t. How are you not hungover?”

“Um, maybe because I didn’t drink an entire bottle all on my own.” He takes your hand and leads you through the throngs of people gathered around playpens of cats and bunnies.

“Did I drink that much?” You say it quietly, more to yourself than to him, but he picks it up anyway.

“Yeah…I only drank, like, two glasses? You didn’t notice?” He’s stopped at the end of a line leading to a pen of small rescue dogs.

You tilt your head, squinting at him through your sunglasses. “Does it look like I noticed?”

The line moves up as others clear out, having had their fill of playing with the dogs. The late spring sun beats down on your neck and arms, the light and sounds intensifying your headache, and you can’t help but sigh.

“Oh, what now? I planned this for you. I thought you wanted to adopt a dog.” He says, lifting up your sunglasses to get a peek of your eyes before you swat his hand away.

“To adopt a dog, you need a place to live.” The two of you move up forward in the line. “I’m sleeping on your couch right now.” Your stomach twists, and you’re not sure if it’s from the hangover or the reminder.

“Right now,” he reminds you. “But you’ll find a new place, and a new guy, and then you can take it on walks to your old place and make it poop on the lawn.”

Your forehead crinkles as you draw your brows together. “The guy or the dog?”

“Whichever one you want.”

This earns your first (sober) smile all week, and he brightens up.

“I don’t think I want a new guy just yet,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Well, you don’t need, like, a serious guy,” he says. “Just, like, a rebound.”

“A rebound? Seriously?” You scoff at the idea.

“Yeah, seriously. Just to get back out there, you know? Take your mind off of…” His voice fades out, both of you already knowing where he was going.

“I don’t think a rebound is what I need right now,” you say, avoiding his eyes. “I just need to find a new place to live.”

“Not even if it’s him?”

You follow his gaze to the person manning the area, his face coming into view as more patrons clear out.

“Damn.” Your friend fans himself as he comes into full view.

“You are so dramatic,” you say, but you can’t stop your gaze from sliding across his broad shoulders.

“Oh my god, I think I’m about to pass out. He looks like marble.” He grips your arm, pushing his weight onto you with a pleading cry of your name. You swat him away. “Please. Please. If not for you, for me.”

The man is…well, he really could pass as marble. His face is composed of sharp angles and rigid features, with a hard facial structure and crooked nose stolen from David himself. He sits in a chair next to the playpen with a relaxed posture, his arms crossed and legs stretched out in front of him. He looks indifferent to the noise around him—lazy, even—but there’s no mistaking the alertness of his eyes, the way they scan along the length of the park, surveying each passing patron with mechanical precision; as the line moves up and people speak to him, he studies their faces, eyes falling to their hands, their pockets, and their shoes. It earns him some uneasy glances— the discomfort his probing, baring gaze causes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he does, and he just doesn’t care.

By the time it’s your turn, the crowd has lessened. The sun is just past its peak, and the late-afternoon drowsiness has set in for most people. The dogs are romping around in the shady grass underneath a tent to protect them from the heat, and you’re grateful to get a break from the harsh sunlight when you approach, finally able to lift your huge sunglasses and rest them atop your head.

The man—Jason, the sticker on his shirt reads—takes your tickets and you let yourselves into the playpen. He looks you up and down with the accusatory eye of a trained spy; you begin to feel guilty for things you never did, every small mistake you’ve ever made coming to the front of your mind. He looks at you like he can sense it. Now that you’re seeing him up close, there’s a small tuft of white hair at the front of his hairline that, from afar, looked like a reflection of sunlight. It’s a bit jarring, making someone so young-looking stick out in a crowd. You catch yourself staring, and so does he. His jaw tenses and he looks away.

“Five minutes,” he says.

Immediately, you and your friend are overrun by small and medium-sized dogs jumping onto your legs and climbing over each other for your attention.

“Okay, wow. Hi there!” You squeal, kneeling on the ground as they crowd around you and your friend. All the dogs have tags on their collars with their names and the Sanctuary logo on the front. Your friend zeroes in on an excitable retriever puppy who jumped into his lap and is licking all over his face.

“Lucy,” he reads from her name tag. The dog’s tongue lolls out, teeth baring in a smile as he scratches under her chin.

“Cute,” you say, watching their interaction. Lucy jumps into his arms and he coos, attacking her with kisses.

“Isn’t she?” He scoots closer to you. “Aren’t you feeling better?”

“I guess so,” you sigh, patting another dog's head before it notices two other dogs fighting over an enticing twig and scampers away to join.

“You know what would make it even better?” He asks, and you raise your eyebrow, though you know where he’s going.

He jerks his head towards Jason, eyes widening suggestively. When you stare at him, unamused, he scoffs and smacks your arm with the back of his hand.

“Come on, he’s perfect!” He whisper-shouts. “Just look at him. God, if I were single…”

You roll your eyes but look at him anyway. He looks flushed from the sun. That, or his decision to wear jeans and a leather jacket in this weather.

“I’m not sure I trust someone who dresses that warm in June,” you reply.

“Why worry about how he’s dressed? Just worry about un-dressing him.” Your friend snorts at his own joke, and Lucy startles at the sound, sniffing around his face for the source.

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m not sure you’re in the place to judge what he’s wearing.” His gaze drops to your shirt. “Like, I get the whole ‘putting-in-no-effort-post-breakup’ thing, but what is that shirt? Why is there a cockroach on it? And why is he holding a briefcase?”

You’re a little offended by that. “It’s…it’s The Metamorphosis. We read it in high school. Together.”

He narrows his eyes. “You know I blocked out everything from before I turned twenty-one.”

You press your lips together. “Fair enough.”

You spare a quick glance back to Jason, but he’s busy staring down someone walking by. Near his chair, in the corner of the pen, you notice for the first time a slightly older dog sleeping under small streaks of sunlight that seep through holes in the corner of the tent. It’s almost silly how it mirrors Jason— dark, furry legs sprawled out in the grass against black denim doing the same. Its ears flop open, just like the black waves that stick up in some places. The dog is even graying around its nose, white whiskers stark against the expanse of black fur.

You shuffle over on your knees, and the dog’s ears twitch, brown eyes opening to peer at you.

“Hi,” you murmur, palm outstretched for him to sniff. His tail thumps against the grass. You rub his belly and he rolls completely onto his back, tail wagging harder.

You can’t help but giggle. “What are you doing all the way over here? Didn’t want to play with your friends?”

“Senior dogs aren’t as popular.”

You look up; Jason’s gaze is fixed on you, calculated, yet unreadable. You feel warm under his stare.

“Sorry?”

“He’s a senior dog. Most people prefer the puppies. More energy. Cuter.” He looks across the pen, to where your friend is holding multiple puppies in his lap. “Easier, emotionally speaking. ‘Cause they’ve got more life left.”

Your heart sinks as you look down at the dog in front of you. He pushes himself onto his legs, and it's clear he moves much slower than the younger dogs, but he’s just as adorable. His nose pushes at your hand— a request to keep petting him.

“That really…sucks.” You scratch behind the dog’s ear and his back leg twitches.

“Not much we can do about it.” He sounds aloof, but he rubs at a spot over his chest as he says it.

“Well, I’d adopt him if I could. Little…” You check the tag hanging from his collar, leaning closer to make out the engraving. “…Monster…Truck?”

Jason’s brows knit together. “Seriously?” He turns toward you, and you show him. He laughs— it surprises you. He looks so different when his face is broken into a smile. Nothing like the guarded, indifferent look he wore until now.

Jason looks behind you, squinting. “He seems…eager.”

Your friend is lying on his back, laughing as the dogs climb over him.

“He is.”

“Good idea to come here,” Jason notes. “Seen a lot of couples around; fun place for a date.”

Your lips quirk up and you shake your head, opening your mouth to correct him when you’re interrupted.

“NO!”

You both whip around and see your friend bolting upright. The dogs skitter away from him, and he crawls over to you.

“We are not a couple, I guarantee you.” Your friend is close to shouting. “I’m actually—” He flicks his wrist down, and you stifle a groan. “And also taken. So this—” He gestures between the two of you. “Not happening.”

Jason nods. “Oh, okay. Um…sorry.”

He points to himself. “Not single,” he says, then points to you. “Single. Not single,” he points to himself again, then back to you. “Single.”

“I think he got it.” You keep your eyes locked on the ground in front of you.

“Just making sure! You know, we’re in the middle of a misinformation crisis. So, you should always be fact-checking.” He pats you on the back and looks Jason right in the eye. “She is single.”

You face him, eyes wide with pursed lips. “Thank you,” you say, through gritted teeth. “For that.”

“Anytime,” He flashes a bright smile and shuffles away.

You take a steadying breath and slowly turn back to Jason. He looks confused more than anything else.

“Sorry.”

“No—no worries.”

You stay silent, patting ‘Monster Truck’ on the head.

“Nice shirt, by the way,” Jason says, after a minute of silence.

“Oh! Thank you,” you grin. “Do you…like Kafka?”

“Yeah, I do. Is The Metamorphosis your favorite?”

“Definitely. Although I might be biased; I have a preference for tragedies.”

Jason leans closer. “You think it’s a tragedy?”

You tilt your head. “How is it not? Gregor never wanted to become what he did, but his parents still blamed him for it. They hated him, hurt him, and were relieved when he died when all he wanted was to keep being their son.” The dog rests his head on your knee, and you move your scratches to his back. There’s a quirk in Jason’s cheek, like an almost smile. “But the tragedy is that, in their eyes, he stopped being their son the second he changed. He was a monster to them, and he stayed that way until he died. He hoped that they would love him again, but he was doomed from the day he changed.”

“You don’t think Gregor was a monster?” Jason asks amusedly; you didn’t mean to get so passionate about Gregor Samsa today, but he’s clearly not complaining.

“Of course not,” you scoff. “Do you?”

“No, not at all.”

“Good. I’m surprised you don’t think it’s a tragedy. What is it to you?”

He shrugs. “Horror?”

You narrow your eyes. “Okay, sure.”

He chuckles. “You don’t agree?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Seems like you don’t,” Jason teases.

“Please don’t put words in my mouth, Jason.”

He laughs again, louder this time, and it sounds like music. You can’t help it; you break into a grin—something about his laugh is so contagious. You want to swallow the sound and be drunk on it for days.

“Seems unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours,” Jason says.

A high-pitched squeak sounds from behind you, followed by a gruff throat-clearing, and a mumbled Sorry. You ignore it, eyes squeezing shut in a silent prayer that he can’t sense the sheer amount of heat radiating off of you.

You tell him your name, and he repeats it quietly to himself. Like it’s something special to be held close.

He tears his eyes away from you when more people approach the pen, a line beginning to accumulate. You realize you’ve been here way longer than five minutes, and stand, brushing grass and dirt from your knees.

“We should probably…” You nod towards the people waiting.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees, sounding disheartened.

He stands, offering a hand so you can step over the playpen walls. His skin is rough, but warm, and your skin buzzes under the contact. As you swing your legs over, Monster Truck whines and paws at the walls of the enclosure.

You frown, leaning down to give him one final scratch under his chin. “Sorry buddy, I’ll miss you.”

Your friend climbs out after you, but steps away, giving you some distance.

“Maybe, um…” Jason’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck. “I’ll see you later?”

You nod, smiling. “Definitely.”

The sun is setting, and you’re drowsy and sun-tired from spending the day walking around the park. At every table and tent you visited, application forms for adoption and fostering taunted you from their piles, and you thought about little Monster Truck, old and lonely in his cage at the shelter, while there’s nothing you can do about it. Then you thought about Jason, his interesting views on literature that you’d love to hear more about, and how good he looked under the dappled sunlight shining down on him through the trees. Maybe he could be a good rebound, you think as you walk around the park, stealing glances at where he sits in the hopes of catching him as he leaves. But the more you think about him, the more your traitorous mind, too romantic for your own good, spins ‘rebound’ into possibilities of ‘casual’ into ideals of ‘relationship.’

Your friend is pulling the car around when you spot him a few tables down, an easy smile on his face as he talks to a beautiful woman with red hair and glasses.

He’s standing so close to her, you notice. He laughs at something she says. It’s the same laugh he gave to you. It leaves a bad taste on your tongue.

How much do you even know this guy? One conversation isn’t enough to gauge his character. You were presumptuous to assume he was flirting with you; there’s no way someone like that is single. Looking at him now, you’re brought back to days as a bright-eyed tween girl with a crush on the pool’s college-aged lifeguard. In other words— delusional.

He leans down and kisses the top of her head.

‘Relationship’ suddenly follows a thread of lies, manipulation, and excuses, all woven into a tapestry bearing nothing but three wasted years.

And for what? Ideals?

Shame sinks into your stomach, burning through to the surface of your skin. It’s like he can feel your stare because he looks up and his eyes immediately find yours. Frustrated tears prick at your eyelids as he squeezes the woman’s shoulder in goodbye and makes his way over.

Two seconds too late, the car pulls up to the park's edge. Your friend waves you over, and you’re half-tempted to make a run for it. But Jason calls to you, and on instinct, you turn.

“Hey, I was looking for you.”

You manage a strained smile, unable to form any words.

“Are you leaving?”

“Mhm.” You give him a nod.

The minute tilt of his head tells you he knows something is off.

He rubs the back of his neck. “Okay, well, there’s a good place for coffee not far from here. If you’re interested.”

“I’ll be sure to check it out.”

There’s a shift in the air. You both feel it.

“Actually, I meant…if you wanted to go now,” he says.

The fucking nerve of this guy.

“Why would I want to do that?”

This gives him pause. He looks at you with those calculating eyes, searching for something you refuse to give him. After a few too many seconds, he responds.“I thought you maybe wanted to—”

“Oh my god, Jason, no!” You spit. The force of it catches both of you by surprise.

He clears his throat, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Okay. Sorry to bother you.” He walks away before you can say anything.

Your legs carry you through your haze of indistinguishable emotions and into your friend’s car.

“What was that?” He asks, as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place.

“I don’t know.”

You spare one last look at the park. You have a clear view of Jason through the crowd, back with the same woman and now joined by another man. He’s shorter than Jason, and a little more tanned. He claps Jason on the back in a warm, familiar fashion. He and the woman’s hands are interlaced, and from the way she looks at him, it’s clear you made a mistake.

“Oh, fuck me.” You lean back against the headrest, taking a deep breath to soothe the stabbing pain in your chest.

“Do you want to go back?” Your friend offers. He peers at you sympathetically, and that only makes you feel worse.

“No. No, please just drive.” You drop your face into your hands, voice cracking.

His palm finds your shoulder. “Maybe it’s for the better. Like, everything happens for a reason, you know? For all you know, he could be a murderer. Or something.”

You want to find comfort in his attempts, but you just can’t.

“Drive. Please.”

“Things are gonna get better for you. I can feel it.” He shifts gears and peels away from the curb. The park disappears in your rearview mirror, and you can only hope he’s right.

June 30th

Things got worse.

On one particularly difficult day, you drag yourself back to the animal shelter because you just couldn’t get Monster Truck out of your mind.

“For the record,” the employee says as he leads you to his enclosure, “We just call him Monty.”

Monty, having already heard your voice as you approached, was waiting at the gate with wide eyes. His tail swung from side to side, and the sight of him had you melting.

The employee unlocks the gate and Monty lumbers out, panting happily and jumping onto you as you kneel.

“Hi, buddy!” You smush his face between your hands. “I missed you.”

“Have you filled out an application?” The employee asks.

“Oh.” You flush. “I’m sort of…in the process of moving right now. So…no.” It’s a half-truth. Your stuff is all in boxes and ready to be moved. You just don’t know where yet.

“That’s okay, you can still fill one out now! The process might take some time, anyway. Where are you moving to?” He has an unsettlingly bright smile. You feel like he’s already judging you.

“I’m…not sure. Yet.”

“I see.” He smiles even wider, somehow. “Then where are you living now?”

You blow out a sigh. “At a friend’s.”

“So, you’re essentially homeless?”

“Woah, dude.”

“If you aren’t planning to adopt, then you can’t visit the animals as you please. This isn’t a petting zoo.”

You share a few choice words with the employee, including a not-so-whispered ‘jackass’ (to which he says, ‘I heard that’ and you shout a ‘You were meant to!’) on your way out the door.

Later on that month, you heard about a modest one-bedroom apartment from a friend of a friend, whose friend knew the landlord; a little above your price range, but you could manage. You went through all the proceedings— references, background check, credit check, coming up with the money for a deposit—you were all ready to sign the lease and move in when you got the call.

These things fall through sometimes, the landlord said. Sorry it didn’t work out.

So tonight, when your friend, sick of your week-long pity party on his couch, hauled you into his Uber to join his date night, you thought, what the hell. Sure.

Your friend and his boyfriend are insufferably cute. Normally, you’d smile at the way they’re all over each other on the drive to the club; kissing each other’s palms and stroking one another’s hair.

Now it feels gloating.

Although this, you suppose, is your normal now, and while you can bear their playing footsie in the Uber, bear the hands in each other’s back pockets while waiting in line, bear playing photographer for them over the first round of shots, you draw the line at the sensuous, touchy dance moves happening three feet away from you. Not wanting to be the jealous and bitter third-wheel, you manage to grab their attention long enough to point to the bar and make your escape.

Still fairly early in the night, most of the stools are empty. You slide into one, and the bartender, a dark-haired woman whose name tag reads ‘Luisa’, approaches with a smile.

“What can I get you?”

You order a shot and, after a quick glance back to your friends (they’ve escalated to full-on grinding), you add a cocktail.

You throw back the shot with barely a grimace and start downing the cocktail. Luisa whistles.

“Everything okay?”

You merely shrug, not bothering to remove your mouth from the glass. Or breathe. The liquid level lowers at a steady speed until you’re left with only a few ice cubes.

Someone from a few chairs down scoots over to the seat next to you.

“Wow.”

You don’t look at him, but the voice sounds male.

"I like a girl who can handle her liquor. Can—"

“No,” you say, not lifting your eyes from the counter.

You hear him scoff from beside you. “You could at least—"

“Nope.” You swish the straw around in the glass, pushing the ice cubes about. They clink against the corners of the cup.

“There’s no need—“

Something about this guy, and every guy to ever exist, fills you with exhaustion and rage. You drop your head into your hands, and groan. Loudly.

You hear his footsteps receding, as well as some curses flicked your way, but take an extra minute to hide in your hands. You think to yourself, when did men get so much audacity?

Another glass is set down in front of you. You look up; it’s Luisa. She wears an understanding grimace.

“Thanks,” you mumble.

“Break-up?” She asks, and you nod. “This one’s taken care of.”

“By who?”

“Don’t worry about it. Though, I do expect a generous tip later.” She winks, and you crack a smile for the first time that night.

“Why are men so…” You pause, searching for a word that adequately sums up what you’re feeling, but come up with nothing. She seems to get the point.

“Trust me, I know.”

“Yeah? What happened to you?” You sip the drink; the glass is cold in your hands, and it feels good against the humidity of the packed club.

She sighs, resting her forearms against the bar counter, fingers playing with the edges of her apron. “What didn’t?” At your sympathetic look, she continues. “I was with this guy for a few months, and everything was great. He was so sweet and loving. I thought he was, like, the one. Met each other’s families and everything. He started talking about moving in together…I was worried we might be moving too fast but he kept pushing it, saying stuff like ‘I want to be with you for the rest of my life, and I want the rest of my life to start right now!’” She accentuates her imitation with finger quotes and a high-pitched voice.

You squint at her with furrowed brows. “Isn’t that…When Harry met Sally?”

She laughs dryly. “Yeah. I hadn’t seen it. You want another?” She nods toward the glass you set down, now empty.

“Please.”

While assembling yet another cocktail for you, she resumes her story. “So I agreed, and he moved into my place, and then…” Luisa trails off, muddling mint and lime juice at the bottom of a shaker.

“Then…?” You prompt.

“Well, I found out that the day he started pressuring me into moving in together…that was the day he got his first eviction notice.”

“No.”

“Yes.” She pours your drink into a fresh glass and adds a straw, then slides it over the counter to you. “And I found out because he was four months behind on rent, and the landlord came to my place looking for him.”

“Oh my god!” You gasp, your chest burning with anger on her behalf. “What did you do?”

“I called my sisters. While he was at work, we changed the locks, packed up all his stuff, and left it on the curb.” She smiles at the memory. “Then I never saw him again.”

You snort into your hand. “So…you evicted him.”

“Essentially,” Luisa shrugs. “What about you?”

You huff. “Cheated,” is the only word you can get out, shoulders sagging as you fiddle with the straw.

“I’m sorry,” Luisa says.

"S'not your fault," you slur. Your three drinks are catching up to you. That doesn't stop you from ordering another.

Later into the night, when the crowd density around the bar has almost doubled, Luisa excuses herself to tend to the rising drink demand. You miss talking to her as soon as she leaves, but it's no matter because you're not sure your speech is even intelligible at this point. You're left with a grand total of three cocktails and two shots, the empty glasses surrounding your personal pity party at the bar. You're entertaining yourself by stacking the glasses atop one another when you hear a second set of footsteps behind the counter, though you're in no condition to comprehend the exchange.

"Hey, have you gone on break yet?"

"No, not yet."

"Okay, go. I'll cover you."

Your phone vibrates, and it takes a few tries for your clumsy hands to wrestle it out of your jeans' minuscule front pockets.

Unknown Number hey i want to fix this we can't throw away three whole years just because of one silly argument

You sho is yhid

Unknown Number i had to get a new number because you blocked me

You new nuumbrt who ids oj

Unknown Number wait are you drunk right now?

You y7es

Unknown Number i can't believe you, i'm trying to fight for our relationship and you're out drinking?

You fuvk ogg twat

"New number my ass. D'you see this shit?" You hold the phone up, facing the screen to Luisa. "How much you wanna bet he jus' borrowed— oh."

When you look up to where Luisa's face was, you're met with...nothing. A black void encapsulates your entire field of view.

"Am I passing out?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"What?"

The sound comes from above the black, and you follow it.

"Oh, shit."

You find a pair of green eyes narrowed at you, scanning you up and down. If you were more sober, you might feel somewhat intimidated by the burning stare. But any hint of sobriety has been thrown out the window and apparently took your filter along with it.

His face is somewhat blurry, but the unmistakable streak of white hair has you ninety percent confident that it’s...him in front of you.

Jason. From the animal shelter. Who you got along with, and then treated like shit.

“Woah! What’re you doin’ here!” It comes out as an exclamation more than a question and your words blend together, the alcohol making any speech require ten times the usual effort.

“What am I doing here?” It’s not accusatory, but rather genuinely confused. His voice is even, distant. Not a trace of the warmth you had last time to be heard.

You mimic his expression. “Do you, like…work here or something?”

He stares at you, dumbfounded. His face reads, this must be a prank. His mouth reads, after a moment’s pause, “…Or something.”

You sweep another look down his body. A black, short-sleeve T-shirt, well-loved jeans, and a pair of work boots grace his deific figure. You linger on his arms for a few seconds.

He clears his throat, and you’re drawn back to his face. He raises his eyebrows, unamused. The morning will be clouded by a haze of regret for how openly you check him out. But the morning’s not here just yet.

“You’re the barten—the bar…bar-man?”

He opens his mouth to respond, but you answer your own question.

“Nah, you’re…you are…can’t be bar-man. You don’t gotta apron!” You point at him, jabbing your finger so aggressively it shakes your whole body—a clear mistake from the way it makes the alcohol slosh in your stomach.

He says nothing and steps away to deal with the other customers. You return to your cup-stacking but, a moment later, the glasses are pulled from your reach. Your arm follows them with a whining protest, and a tall glass is placed in your hand.

“I didn’t order any more rum.”

“This is water.” Jason begins to turn away, but stops. “Did you think I brought you a full glass of rum?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m kinda drunk,” you mumble. You take a few sips, and then place it back on the table.

“Oh, are you?” His tone has a bite to it. You look down at the cup, tapping your nails against the glass. You don’t give yourself the right to be offended; you deserve it, you think, as the events of that day replay in your head.

“Sorry for being such a bitch.” It comes out quieter, scarcely audible over the raucous sounds of the club.

“All you said was, ‘You’re not wearing an apron’.”

“Not now. Before. Last time.”

He doesn’t say anything. Then, “Just drink the water.”

“No, I’m gonna go throw up.”

“Wait—”

You jump from your stool, threading through the hordes of sweaty bodies to round the corner and bolt for the bathroom. You barge through the first door marked ‘vacant’ that you see and hurl in the toilet. Several times.

When your stomach is finally empty, you sit back against the wall, head hitting the tiles. A mixture of vomit and spit dribbles down your chin and onto your top. You take a deep breath, but the air stinks of sweat and smoke and you retch, but there’s nothing left for your body to purge.

The cold tiles do little to soothe your damp, heated skin. You need water. Water and fresh air and maybe a time machine, so you can go back and warn yourself to eat something before going out, or to pay more attention to what’s right in front of you, or maybe just go back and make sure you never say yes in the first place to that fucking—

“You in here?”

A swift knock on the door. Stern enough to knock you to your senses, and also rouse some shame. The amount of times you’ve embarrassed yourself this month alone— it brings another wave of nausea.

You don’t answer—you can’t, not with the acid and bile burning your throat and your head spinning from the glaring fluorescent lights. The door handle is pushed down achingly slowly, rusty hinges screaming in protest as the door is cracked open. Jason peeks his head in, the familiar tuft of white poking out from behind the door first, followed by the rest of him.

“Can I come in?”

You nod. He leaves a crack in the door and approaches carefully, as if you’re a wounded animal in the wild, ready to bolt at the first sudden movement. He squats down to eye-level, careful to avoid touching his knees to the floor. Smart, you think, becoming acutely aware of your shoes sticking to the ground by way of some mystery substance.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” you croak, closing your eyes in the hopes that it will relieve some of the ache.

“It’s fine.”

“No,” you slur, “’s not. Can’t stop embarrassing myself.”

“Believe me, I’ve seen much worse.”

“Doubt it.” You open your eyes to look at him. He remains a respectable distance from you, so his features are still a bit fuzzy, but you can make out the thin line of his lips pressed together. He’s indecipherable, and you wonder if it’s on purpose that he hides himself, or if that’s just his face.

“Can you stand?” He asks, rising back to his full height. Still delirious, you manage a soft groan from the back of your throat and extend your arm to him. He gets the message, taking ahold of your elbow and pulling you to your feet with ease like you weigh nothing.

You hobble over to the sink and splash cool water on your face, wiping at your mouth and neck and cursing at the stains on your shirt.

“Do you need a new one?”

It almost doesn’t register over the ringing in your ears, which is only compounded by the loud bass that bleeds through the walls and reverberates through your skull.

“You…hm?” Your voice crackles as you turn to face him. He’s oddly relaxed in his stance where he leans against the door, hands in his pockets and watching you intently.

“I can give you a shirt. If you want one,” he says. His voice is soft, but whether it’s from sympathy or pity, you can’t tell.

“Yeah, sure. Fine,” you reply, breaking eye contact to stare at the grimy wall behind him. More than anything else, you want a break from the way he looks at you; as if he’s peeling back your layers and staring right into the center of you. It makes you feel like a scolded child, walking to the principal’s office with a pit in your stomach and no idea what you did wrong, but knowing there must be something.

Your hands feel cold, suddenly, and you flinch at the unexpected sensation. Looking down, you see Jason pressing a bottle of water into your hands. You hadn’t even noticed he stepped closer.

He slips out the door, closing it behind him. You rinse out your mouth a few times, but the dry, acidic burn in your throat remains, so you go for the water bottle, but your fingers are too weak and shaky to remove the cap. You set it down forcefully on the sink’s edge and lean your weight against the sink, hands gripping the porcelain so hard your knuckles turn white. You stare at them, unable to bear your own reflection. You can feel the pressure building behind your eyes and screw them shut, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle the choked-out sob that breaks from you.

“Fuck,” you mutter to yourself, wiping away at the moisture. “Get it together.”

You’re trying to steady your breathing when he knocks on the door, his request to come in muffled through the wall.

A stiff “Yeah,” is all you can manage; it’s so quiet you don’t think he heard you, but a moment later the door creaks open again and Jason’s head peeks in. You steal a quick glance at him in the mirror, and that’s all it takes for him to notice the shine of your red-rimmed eyes. He freezes, hovering halfway into the bathroom, unsure if he should come in or give you your privacy.

“Here,” he says quietly. You turn around at the light rustle of him holding out a large, light blue t-shirt, and a plastic grocery bag. “I’ll let you—”

“Wait,” you say, without thinking.

He looks at you expectantly, and after a few seconds of silence, you realize you need to say something.

“Can you—” You fumble for the water bottle that sits on the sink and hold it out to him. “Can you open this?”

He twists the cap open and hands it back to you. You take a small sip. The two of you stare at each other.

“Is there…anything else?”

“I, uh…”

There is something else. But you’re not sure what it is. The only thing your drunk—and clearly stupid—mind can think about right now is how much you want him to stay.

“You remember Monty?”

“Monty?” Jason raises his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you know. Monty.” You lean against the wall, resting your head on the tiles that are definitely carrying some kind of virus. At least they’re cold.

“No, sorry.” He shakes his head.

“Jason.” You cross your arms. “Monty!”

“I don’t…know who that is.” His ears are turning pink as he looks you up and down, likely wondering if the bacteria in this bathroom can cause hallucinations.

“Monster Truck. The dog.”

You can see the gears turning in his brain, and the moment the light bulb flickers on. “Oh,” he sighs. “Yeah.” His shoulder leans against the doorframe, and he pushes the door open a few more inches.

“Y’know I went to see him?”

He hums in response and tilts his chin up, signaling for you to continue.

“Motherfuckers kicked me out.”

At this, his mouth falls open. “They…what?”

You nod vigorously, grateful that you’re not alone in your outrage. “Said if I don’t have a place to live, being there’s basically loitering.”

At his silence, paired with his microscopic frown, you wonder if he agrees. It occurs to you that this is the first he’s heard of your living situation—you rush to defend yourself.

“I had a place to live. Then I moved out. Was about to move into this new place, literally jus’ had to sign some shit, but this old bitch pulled it out from under me. Worst part is, she’s not even gonna live there. Just wanted it ‘cause it was around the fashion district, an’ I guess she just wanted a place to, like, put her feet up or something after a long day of shopping.”

If Jason wants to cut in, you don’t notice. You’re fully aware that you’re rambling, but can’t bring yourself to care; it feels nice to finally get all this out. Even if it is making you look even worse in his eyes.

“And you wanna know the worst part? I had the apartment. Was basically mine already. But then she had to go and bribe the damn landlord with all her…damn rich lady money!” Your volume increases as you go on, getting angrier at the injustice. “And then he lied to me about it! Said it just ‘fell through.’ Then I showed up to talk to him in person about it, and he broke like a…like—like something that breaks easily, I don’t know. Like, if you’re gonna fuck people over, at least be good at it. Don’t be a snitch!

“And, apparently, the lady—she said that she wanted that apartment because it was ‘the safest she could find’ and she didn’t wanna ‘get mugged,’” you say, using air quotes. “Bitch! If you wanna live somewhere safe, get the hell out of Gotham!” You’re practically yelling now, and Jason suppresses a smile. You know it’s probably mocking, but still, he listens patiently to your rant.

“But, actually, she was kinda right. It was a nice place. On Tyler Street. Totally bougie—the muggers don’t even come out ‘til after midnight.”

He actually snorts at this, and you feel yourself smiling at it.

Your eyes fall to the shirt in your hands. You hold it up to get a good look. It’s an icy-blue color with a monocled cartoon penguin in front of an iceberg. Underneath is written ‘The Iceberg Lounge: Gotham Waterfront.’

It’s so cheesy, you can’t help but laugh. “Why do you have this?”

“From the gift shop.”

“What kinda club has a gift shop?”

Jason shrugs. “This one.”

He steps out, shutting the door behind him. You peel off your old shirt and stuff it in the plastic bag before tugging on the new shirt; it’s soft and surprisingly good quality. After a few moments of deliberation, you decide to stuff the plastic bag in the trash—it’s not like you’ll miss it.

You open the door, startled when you see that Jason is waiting outside.

“I’m good, you can go back to work,” you tell him.

“How are you gonna get home?”

“‘S fine,” you mumble. “I’ll jus’ call an Uber.” You drag yourself out of the bathroom, leaning one hand against the wall for support. Jason follows, hovering like an anxious parent. You shoot your friend a text letting him know, and he replies telling you to call him from the car.

“That’s—” He rests his hand on your back and maneuvers you around a flock of drunk dancers whom you’re too absorbed in your phone to notice. “I can give you a ride.”

“It’s okay. You’re working.” You don’t listen for his answer, making a beeline for the exit. He stays on your tail, and you realize as he guides you in the opposite direction that you don’t actually know your way around this place.

“Not anymore.” He pushes open the front door and holds it for you.

“You can’t just leave in the middle of your shift, Jason.” The door swings shut behind you, and sounds of traffic and light chatter replace the ear-splitting music. Jason nods to the bouncer at the entrance before turning back to you.

“I wouldn’t worry about it.” He leads you around the side of the building.

“No, I will worry about it. You already hate me enough. I can’t be the reason you get fired.”

Jason stops walking. “You think—”

“I’m calling an Uber.” He tries to interject, but you don’t let him. “Look! George is three miles away, and he has a five-star rating.”

“I don’t want you getting into some rando’s car. I can take you home.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “What’s your problem? You don’t like George?”

“I don’t trust anyone in Gotham this late, and neither should you,” Jason says firmly.

“Then why should I trust you?”

He opens his mouth, then closes it. You scroll through your recent messages, surprised to see your ex’s ‘new number’ has called you four times in the last hour. Two of those calls have voicemails.

You skim through the voicemail transcripts. “Fuckin’ weirdo,” you seethe.

“What’s wrong?” Jason asks.

“Nothin’.” Your shaky fingers try to navigate to the ‘block’ button, but the screen shifts to an incoming call. It’s him. Again. You decline it. Not even a moment later, he calls again.

“Leave me alone,” you mutter, rushing to press ‘block’ before he can call again.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you drop to the curb, head falling into your palms. After a moment, you hear Jason sit down next to you.

“Is someone bothering you?” His tone is rigid, and it’s a shocking switch, abrupt and cold enough to send a chill down your spine. You lift your head to look at him. “If you don’t feel safe—”

“No, it’s just my stupid ex. Probably only calling ‘cause his fuckin’ mistress finally left him. Good for her, I guess. Bad for me, though. Now he’s lonely and won’t leave me alone.”

“How many times has he called you?”

“I don’t know, five? It’s fine. He’ll give up.”

“Are you sure?”

You nod. His shoulders relax. Barely. You don’t miss the way his jaw tightens, or how his hand flexes as he stares at your phone.

“If he keeps harassing you, tell someone.” At the way he speaks, you almost fear for your ex.

“I…don’t know if I’d call it harassment. He’s just an idiot.”

Jason looks you in the eye. “That’s not an excuse.” His gaze is sharp. You look away, something burning in your chest.

Quiet settles in the space between you.

“Feels like you’re judging me,” you murmur.

“I’m not judging you,” he says gently. “Why would I judge you?”

“I don’t know, just…for being with someone like that.”

It takes him some time to respond.

“People change.”

“And what if I told you he was always like that?”

“I still wouldn’t judge you.” This time, his reply is immediate.

“Maybe you should. I was with him for three years.”

“Why?” He asks, but it’s not critical; it’s curious.

“We were friends for a while first. I guess I was kind of a late bloomer if you wanna call it that. Never got much attention from…whatever.” The alcohol’s lingering effects weigh heavy on your tongue, making all your admissions come too easily. “Then one day, that changed. He was the first guy who asked me out. Claimed he’d ‘always had a crush on me’. Guess I got excited, or something. I was so high on the feeling of being…wanted. Never noticed how selfish he actually was.”

“What did he do?”

“It was subtle. He wasn’t the only one who started noticing me; I started getting approached more. But it felt worse, almost. ‘Cause it’s like…I don’t know…I didn’t even change anything.” You hug your knees closer to your chest. “But then all of a sudden I was getting all this attention. And I didn’t know why, and he was like, ‘you really don’t know? You got super hot over the summer.’”

You hear Jason wince next to you. You tilt your head back and take a deep breath, filling your lungs with fresh air when all the remembering brings a familiar pressure to your chest.

“And I know it was supposed to be a compliment,” you continue, feeling yourself sobering at the memory. “Every time it happened, I would tell him about it, thinking we could laugh, but then he’d say some shit like, ‘Well they only like you now. I was the only one who liked you even before.”

“So, until now, you…lived with him?” Jason’s eyes are on the side of your face, you can feel it, but you don’t dare to look at him.

“Yeah. Moved in together after graduation with a lease in his name ‘cause I didn’t know any better.” You chuckle self-deprecatingly. “Found out in the spring that he’d been cheating on me for months, so I moved out. Been moving between friends’ couches ever since.”

A bout of heat runs through your veins as the gravity of everything you’ve told him settles in. You breathe out a long sigh, keeping your eyes trained on the sky above. There are no stars in Gotham, not since the sudden boom in factories and highways and airborne bio-weapons, and the moon is barely visible, waxing on the edge of a new moon. The sky is an endless expanse of gray.

“What about you? Don’t make me the only naked one here.”

The blinking light of an airplane catches your attention, and you track it across the sky. The alcohol has slowed your cognition; it’s nearly a full minute before you realize Jason hasn’t responded. You finally look at him—his lips are parted, eyes narrowed.

You frown. “What?”

“…Naked?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Never heard that before? It doesn’t mean naked naked. It means, like…naked.”

His face remains blank.

“C’mon, Jason, I have no interest in seeing you naked naked.” You look him up and down with distaste, hoping to support your statement, but get caught—again—on his arms. But who can blame you? You’re drunk, and lonely, and his sleeves are hugging his biceps like that, and they look big enough to crush your head.

When your eyes find his again, his jaw is tensed.

You dart to your feet, too quick to help your dizziness and burning with embarrassment.

“Whatever, can we go?”

“Please,” he says, and leads you down the street.

You stumble, tripping over your own feet as you walk and almost crashing into him. Jason huffs and reaches out to wrap his hand around your upper arm. His grip is firm, but not painful, and it holds you upright for the remainder of the walk. In the back of your mind, you wonder if he’s holding up your entire body weight in one hand.

“Wait a second–wait.” You freeze in the middle of the sidewalk, and he jerks to a stop. “That thing? ‘M not gettin’ on that.” You swallow back the lump forming in your throat as you stare at the massive motorcycle parked at the side door.

“Why not?” You can tell he’s getting antsy now, having to look after you like a babysitter, but not even the fear of being a burden can outweigh the uneasiness that comes from…that.

You take a step back. “That’s—you know how dangerous those things are?”

He looks to the sky, taking a deep breath. “Only if you don’t know how to drive them. I do.”

“Look, I get it, you got that whole thing goin’ on, with the bike, and the leather, and the big muscles—” His eyes widen a bit at that last part. “—But do you know what the chances are of being injured when you’re in a motorcycle accident? Do you, Jason? Ei—”

“Eighty-two percent,” he cuts in.

You jerk back, narrowing your eyes. “How’d you know that?”

He scoffs. “How did I know that? You don’t even have a motorcycle!”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do,” he snaps. “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be throwing a fit right now. So please, just get on the bike so I can take you home.” Jason shoves the helmet out to you, his expression fiery and pleading in a way you’ve never seen before. Still, you hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip and looking between him and the helmet.

Your eyes meet, and he sighs. “I’ll drive slowly.” He speaks softer, and somehow, it settles some of your nerves.

You take a deep breath and take the helmet, sliding it over your head. Jason tightens the strap below your chin, and his fingers brush against your neck. You feel dizzy again, your eyelids drooping with sleepiness. With him standing so close, you can smell the cologne wafting from him, layered on top of something deeper; a mixture of fresh soap and natural musk.

“You smell good,” you murmur.

He snaps your visor shut.

“Good?” He asks.

“Good,” you say, though it’s muffled through the helmet, so you nod.

Once you’re both on the bike, you wrap your arms around his waist, squeezing tightly for fear of falling off. You feel his body vibrate as he says something, but you’re too tired to worry about what it is.

He revs up the bike and takes off, circling back to the front of the building and merging onto the main road. And yeah, he’s not going that fast, but it’s fast enough to leave your stomach a few feet behind. You cling to Jason, pressing yourself impossibly tighter to him.

Your eyes are closed the whole way, but the cold wind blowing against you feels nice on your skin. You’re so lost in the hum of the engine sending relaxing vibrations through you, how soft Jason feels, and the helmet drowning out the sounds of Gotham traffic that you don’t even notice when he stops in front of your friend’s building and takes off his helmet. When the light taps to your knee don’t work, he squeezes your leg with a stern call of your name. You jump in surprise, knocked out of your reverie, but pry yourself off of his back.

He gets off first, holds his arm out to offer stability as you clamber off, then undoes your helmet. By now, you’ve sobered up considerably, but you still lack just enough of your senses to stand on your toes and throw your arms around his neck. It’s a split-second embrace, so quick that you barely catch the fresh earthiness of his scent before pulling away. You swear the air feels heavier on your lower back, warmth bleeding through fabric where a hesitant touch hovers, but when you step back his arms are firmly at his sides.

Looking up at him, the tips of his ears are dusted with pink, and his eyelashes flutter in a gust of summer wind.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” You mumble through a drowsy grin. “‘Specially after I fumbled you that badly.”

Jason blushes harder. “Get some rest,” he says, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And call your friend,” he calls as you climb the steps. You wave goodbye, and he just nods, waiting until you get through the door to mount his bike again.

He’s just about to kick it into gear when he pauses. He stares at the door for several seconds, fighting with himself, before groaning out a string of curses, pulling out his phone, and searching up Tyler Street.

divider

there are so many notes bc this was so long omg. it ended up being longer than i anticipated so i split it into 2 parts don't hate me🫥

omg...the birth of an au...i still can't believe so many people liked the first part, this is a prequel for how they met. ty for reading my writing🤭i looove writing iceberg lounge jason!! part 2 of this fic and more parts coming soon!!!

so uh...maybe i'm going crazy but i could've sworn that wayne animal sanctuary was a canon thing when i started this, but then i tried to look it up and couldn't find anything :/ but then i included it anyway bc i'm The Author and i can do whatever i want!

the metamorphosis shirt is based on this "working bug" design that i ❤️ (i have the sticker!).

the motorcycle accident stats were for 2013-2017 from the new jersey division of highway traffic and safety website- basically if you were in a motorcycle accident in those years you had an 82% chance of sustaining injuries from it. wasn't sure if it was clear😬

751 notes · View notes

1nthedarknessofthenight · 9 months ago

Text

﴾ she’s my collar

pairing: han jisung x f!reader

genre: one-shot, idol au, smut

word count: 10,1K

warnings: alcohol use ⋆ choking ⋆ mutual!choking ⋆ switch!han and switch!reader ⋆ mostly sub!han ⋆ mommy!kink (ehm…yup) ⋆ spitting! ⋆ fingering (f. receiving) ⋆ unprotected!sex ⋆ creampie!

summary: while playing a game of spin the bottle, you learn some very interesting things about your friends that night, but probably the most memorable one of them is when the cute boy next to you confesses his dirtiest dream

author’s note: another boy absolutely obsessed with the reader, but that’s exactly how it should be

main masterlist

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You lick your lips, tangy liqueur burning at the back of your throat. Mind fuzzy, you feel your body softly vibrating with the side effects of your sugary drink. Even after one taste you just knew it would not be long, before you would feel your body loosing up, laying back in to the back of the couch with a heavy sigh. The bartender, your long haired friend, sure is not shy with alcohol and looking around the room your blurry vision falls on the mess on the living room floor. If you knew that you would be in such a state like this, you wouldn’t spend so much time getting ready. The black dress, which was probably way too formal for a small house party, started to stick to your skin from the humid air and alcohol in your system. You pulled your hair up just to feel the light breeze going through the room, skin glistening in the soft light, itchy slightly with sweat. You just know you look like a total mess, but there is someone who finds himself disagreeing with this statement.

Han nervously played with the liquid inside his glass, thirsty, but not taking a sip, because he couldn’t miss the opportunity to literally gawk at you. He wasn’t subtle with his looks, but you out of anyone didn’t notice it. Maybe because you got kind of used to his big, doe eyes looking at you or maybe you are simply oblivious. His friends already knew about his little fascination with you, but they didn’t say anything — but one thing about it was funny. Han looked like he didn’t know it himself.

Did he really not realize how much time he spends just staring at you? Tonight especially. Though he did register how he got completely stiff when you walk in with that pretty, little dress, makeup done a little darker than usual. He has an eye for a detail, literally spending the whole party going over your body with his eyes. The first time, the only time, he didn’t look at you was when he got seated next to you. He wanted to sit across from you, get a clear view of how your legs spilled out of your dress, how your fingers played with the pillow between your thighs, how a drip of sweat slowly rolled over your neck down, right between your breast— but no…He has to sit next to you, because of his friend who though it would finally help him talk to you.

You are friend of Seungmin’s. He still remembers when he first met you — so sweet and smiley, he wondered how could you be his friend, but the more he got to know you, he realized, you are really different from what he first thought. Well, get to know you in the sense of watching you from afar and maybe throwing a few words when you would be having a conversation with one of his friends. He usually wasn’t so quiet — Is he really that stupid? He knows that maybe there’s a small crush or something, maybe he is just admiring you. Though his silence, almost shyness, seems to be natural when it comes to you.

There is something pulling him in…He must say that he always liked how confident you are. You didn’t put yourself above or anything, but your humor and the way you spoke made him feel like a fucking high school girl who has a crush on the one popular jock. Oh, but you do really make his heart throb as he purposefully, unintentionally, took a deeper breath to inhale your spicy perfume. Even if he doesn’t want to keep himself away from you, your whole presence intimidated him enough for him to tuck himself a little away from you. Not to make you uncomfortable and also for him to not do anything stupid.

You tilt your head slightly to the direction of the man next to you who for a while seems to only shuffle around in his seat. You wipe away the sweat forming on your forehead, before putting your attention back to the game before you. Few minutes ago you laughed at the idea of playing spin the bottle, but after putting few new rules and twists to it, you are kind of really getting in to it. After few rounds of spinning, still not being picked, you grew amused with the scandalous questions and answers from the guys. However when the bottle suddenly points at you, your smile flatters.

Seungmin watched your face fall into small scowl, completely natural reaction you always have when looking at him. His brown eyes for a second flicker to his friend next to you who again is only looking at you, but other than that his attention is fully on you. “Choose your next words wisely, Kim.” You say, eyes forming into slits at the way he grinned evily.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be anything crazy.” Those words sounded ridiculous coming from him, but you only lean back on the couch, challenging him. The twist to this game is probably the results of the alcohol. From what you heard so far your jaw dropped every time at every new information about your friends and you think that you now know a little too much about them. The brunette across from you, basically knows everything about you and than makes it easier for him to choose his question, easier for him to embarrass you. “Y/N, do your favorite position with someone of your choice.”

Your lips parted in shock. Your hand flies to smack him across his exposed thigh peeking from his jorts painfully, the noise being muted by the others laughing. You scoff at him, watching in small delight how he hissed in pain. You immediately feel heat traveling to your already hot cheeks, eyes going back and forth between your friends. Everyone was still laughing drunkenly, everyone expect him as you turn to look into his direction.

You think he looks even more flustered than you. His pouty lips, stained a little red from his chapstick, fall apart, eyes wide, glistening in the darkness. When you turned your head to him, he almost jumps out from his spot next to you. Han’s heart skips a beat from the question, more like a dare, send your way. He doesn’t know if he wants to know the answer, because that would mean you would have to do it with someone — someone else than him. God, he wished for you to pick him. Seungmin wants to kill him doesn’t he? Maybe it is a payback for the time he figured him all out, he was the first one to confront him about it — of course he denied it. By giving you a free choice of choosing whoever you wanted was probably the most painful thing about his revenge.

However your eyes are still on his and he almost shivers from the way your eye color shined through your slightly smudged eyeshadow. “Hannie.” His mouth falls more open, ears ringing from the way his name fell from your tongue, he nearly forgot his own name.

You could have chosen anyone. Maybe your close friend and put him into some embarrassing position as a payback, but you chose him. He felt sick to his stomach, but in a good way. The lump in his throat was hard to swallow as his whole body froze for a moment in shock. From his small inner tantrum, your sudden difference in body language came unnoticed till now.

The laughing stops at your voice, everyone turning back at you with their own faces of shock. Yours is only turned to the man facing towards you. You feel a small nervousness creeping up on you from his silence, maybe the alcohol gave you a little too much confidence. “You up for it?” You trail off slightly, not so sure about your chosen partner at the moment.

Han however feels his body shake in adrenaline, sitting up quickly. “Yeah-“ His voice was kind of piched, making him cough into his fist, already dying of the embarrassment as his friends snicker. “Yeah, sure.” He corrects himself, leaning back in to his hands, trying to act nonchalant. His friends watch him and you carefully, but not laughing further, they kind of wished for this to happen. They are invested in your answer and also eager to see their friend finally getting to be close to his dream girl in some way.

Han’s confidence which was already fake from the start, now flies out of the room, when he watches you make your way closer to him. His boba eyes fall on to the pillow between your legs, silently wishing you would shove his head between them — wait that would be his favorite position, how silly of him. The soft material is thrown away, drool forming in his mouth as he catches a quick view of your soft thighs and the way you for a moment sit up to pull your dress down, they just so happened to smash together so beautifully.

All air then gets taken away from him when you make your way to him, but mostly because you boldly crawl up to him. The vibe in the room shifts slightly as you go closer to him on your hands and knees. You don’t even know where the confidence of doing that came from but the look on his face is totally worth it, you don’t even look at the other people in the room as they only mimic his expression and his is the only one that mattered. He wants to look away from you, heat spreading all over his chest and face, but the way you move so smoothly and they way your tits spill over your top, is basically impossible for him to look away. You have him totally under your spell, he hopes you know your own immense sex appeal, because watching you crawl over to him from between his legs, should be illegal.

You stop before him, your hands touching his legs, balancing your weight. “Lay down for me.” Han is literally in heaven right now. He almost whimpers at your honeyed voice, eyes falling on to the soft fat of your chest. You literally have him mesmerized so it isn’t too difficult for him to comply, but he still feels how his breathing becomes heavier when he slowly layed back on the floor.

You wish he doesn’t see your hands shaking when you touch his knees, pushing his legs down, so he lays completely flat. You can’t lie that you are not enjoying they way he is trying so hard to look unfazed — Is he really that nervous around you, like Seungmin told you or is it because you crawl up his body like a predator?

Both, definitely both.

Han thinks he will never get this view out of his head ever. You are careful enough not to touch him too much as you suddenly come into his field of vision. Gosh, how pretty are you actually? Your hair falls to your face slightly since you hover above him, licking at your lips. If it would be possibly, he would turn into dust, watching you slowly sit down on his upper thighs, hands falling on his heaving chest. He hopes you don’t feel his heart pounding, he hopes you don’t feel him getting hard like a pathetic boy. He just can’t help it, he can’t help those dirty thoughts racing through his head. He wants so badly to touch you, left hand forming into fist as he looks up at you.

You nearly let out a sound, gasp of sorts, from the view you are having. His eyes were slightly glossy as his spit licked lips, looking good enough to eat. The glasses on his nose fogged up slightly at the bottom from his deep breath which you feel him take under your fingertips. You for a moment forgot about the others, not even caring that your dress is pushed up. You want so badly to sit down, to not be hovering, but already this is even for you too much. He looked so yummy with his sweater pulled down his one shoulder, exposing his collarbones, Adam’s apple bobbing, having the biggest argue to bite at it.

However a voice speaks up at the moment, making you and your current partner snap back to reality. “Cowgirl?” Seungmin voices out, looking at you like you just grew a second head. “That’s it?”

You choke a little over your answer, pushing your weight more onto your hands as you look back at him, not missing the small huff under you. “And? Simple, but good…” You answer, shruggering.

“Who would’ve guessed, Y/N likes to be on top.” Laughs Hyunjin and to you it kind of sounded like an insult, immediately glaring at him, but your head snaps to the man next to him.

“Kind of expected you to be a pillow princess or something.” Says Minho, taking a sip of his beer. His eyes held a teasing look, smirking at you and mostly his friend who still had his eyes on your figure.

“Yeah…” Agrees your close friend again, head tilted up to the ceiling like in thought, before shaking his head with a small smile. “Can’t imagine you toping someone.”

You nearly roll your eyes at them, it hurt your pride a little. Your fingers scrunch up the soft material of Han’s sweater, weight now fully on your hands. He doesn’t move, because he simply couldn’t as he feels the delicious pressure on his body. While you were conversing, you probably didn’t even realize that by leaning more forward, your back formed a little arch. He almost missed the saliva rolling over the corner of his lips, head pulled to the side just to see the way your body formed into the beautiful arch. Fuck, he hopes you don’t feel him under you, because he tugged himself into his boxers maybe a little too stupidly back into his room, where he literally spend his whole day picking up his outfit with Jeongin’s help. If you would just push yourself a little higher, to the right, you would be literally grazing his —

“I can…” Han nearly chokes over the word, eyes widening, not even expecting himself to speak up. You then look down at him, your eyebrows raising to your hairline in a silent question. This all feels to him, like he should be thankful for even getting a look at you like that. “I mean–“ He laughs, but it doesn’t sound amused, he only let the noise out of embarrassment he literally put himself in, it was going so well for him till now…well, at least he can say that he had you on top of him at some point. “–it’s hot when a girl tops.” He swallows, lips jumping into a small smile, feeling sweat drip down his forehead from yours and his friends’ stares.

You have never felt so full with power, looking down at the cute, flushed boy with a smile. Slapping him across his chest, made his body jump, eyes widening, before he snaps his hips immediately back down. “Thanks, baby boy.”

He knew it was meant as joke, watching you in disappointment as you stand up, but he couldn’t stop his cock from twitching in his pants. He immediately sits up at that, grabbing the pillow you were holding before and putting it between his own legs. His moves are so obvious to all of his male friends he wants to literally die, but some of them look like he wasn’t the only one moved in some way with your small performance. The realization that the pillow was literally between your plush thighs, really doesn’t help him find his composure.

You black out a little from the moment you pull away from Han, because you can’t believe you just did all that and said that. It rolled out of your tongue so naturally that it shocked even you. Your hand grasps one of the pillows next to you, putting it between your legs, so you won’t expose anything, well you think you definitely did flash someone by crawling up to Han like a slut, but whatever. It was mostly because you don’t want anyone to get a glimpse of the growing wet spot on your panties. You know it’s not the alcohol anymore, after what you did, you are totally sober.

You were never that shy about speaking about things like that, but this kind of comes to the top of the list of the wildest things you have ever done. You can’t look at him, you can’t. You can’t however get him out of his head, how good he looked under you…You look up from your hands playing with the pillow between your legs, eyes falling on the muscular man, watching his lips move, till you finally find your sense of hearing again.

“Who you would make out with in this room?” From this and the other questions, you think you kind of had the worst one. With only being your first one, you already thought it was enough. You wished that it was something like this, instead of the thing that you did, but deep down you kind of enjoyed it in some sick way.

The question was meant for the cat like man who really didn’t seem to be even a little bit bothered by such question. “Easy, Y/N.“ Minho almost scoffs, gesturing to you, before looking at you for an answer.

From the look in his eyes you think he is hiding something from you, like he knows something you don’t. You give him nothing in return, still salty about his comment, but the man next to you definitely had to pull a face or something as the oldest points at him. “Han looks a bit offended there.” Chan laugh blends into the rest of the cackle and even if you also smile in amusement, there is still confusion. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, but his hair is too into his face to let you see him. Thank God, because he would dig his grave even deeper if you would see his furiously red face.

Jeongin brings the attention back to the game as he grips the glass bottle in the center of the circle to spin it again. You watch the bottle spin quickly, reflecting the lights before it stops right between you and Han. However the youngest doesn’t think further about who is more close to it, eyes falling on his friend immediately. “What kink you haven’t tried before?” It still shocks you that this cute faced guy can be sometimes so blunt.

Your own interest in his answers makes you look at him and like he can just feel your stare, he also glances at you briefly. He humms long and loud in thought, eyes going everywhere around the room, before he tugs his head back into his chest. But you didn’t know that from the corner of his eye, he was watching your fingers playing with material of the pillow. His mind grew fuzzy at your lovely manicured nails, mouth again opening before he could even think his answer through. “Ehm…choking?” He answers truthfully, but he wishes for the day he could lie instead.

“What — really?” Says Felix, the others also voicing out their own disbelief.

Han only nods, already wanting to end this conversation, but he can’t help himself from glancing at you to see your own reaction. To his surprise you are not looking at his flushed face, but at his fingers instead. He stops the unintentional playing with his rings, the move making you look up at him through your eyelashes. Your gaze meets his and he again doesn’t look at you, simply because it is impossible. However to his surprise you look away from him first when both of yours eyes met. Did he just catch you checking out his hands? Now he is the one feeling powerful, liking this new, shy look on you just as much as the other.

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You don’t even know how you lasted this long. It is now the early hours after midnight, maybe not that spontaneous, but considering the party was going on since the late afternoon, you are really shocked that you are still standing. You think that the reason for your upstanding is the game of spin the bottle which kept your body and mind occupied till now. You only drank soft drinks after that, craving something sweet. Sadly your sweet tooth wasn’t suppressed, because there was something way more sweeter you were craving.

Han, not to your surprise again kept this weird distance between you two. Perhaps the thing that you put him through totally blew any chance you had with him. However you are also aware that his silence was a little different from the other ones. Those times felt like he was just kind of shy, but now? He literally looked like he was trying so hard not to finally say something to you.

You spend a long time in the bathroom after that. Trying to make yourself a person again as well as also trying to calm yourself down. You still can’t believe you basically sat on him like that…also this one thing still lingered in your mind. Choking. How on earth had he not tried it before? You don’t know about his game, but from what you have seen he seems to be quite bashful about this kind of thing. Though when you would catch him with the guys talking, he was always the loudest of the bunch. Maybe he didn’t like you? No, he liked you a little too much…

As you felt somehow fresh, wiping of any smudged makeup on your face and also washing the sweat off your body, because you couldn’t function otherwise, you did feel confident enough to walk up to him. Everything is now cleaned up, looking like there wasn’t a party at all and now it was the time for sleep. Seungmin, even if he mostly acts like he isn’t actually one of your closest friends, let you have his bed, while he would sleep on the couch. Still it shocked you a little, because he likes his beauty sleep, but he only scoffed at you, saying that the couch was actually way more comfortable than his bed ever will be. Oh, how you loved your friend’s love language sometimes…

You approach Han while he pulls out a bottle of water from the fridge. You are thankful that everyone else was already either in their room or showering, because you just had to stop in your steps to just stare at his profile. Your eyes travel down his strained neck, head thrown back, you watching closely how he eagerly swallows every drop. A small drop rolls from the corner of his lips and you wonder how can someone look so hot when drinking water, because the way the liquid rolled down his sharp jawline all the way down is throat was simply sinful.

Wiping the small drop of water from his neck, he almost chokes on his water when he sees you from the corner of his eyes. Pulling the bottle away from his lips quickly, he looks at you with big eyes, you not really catching his spooked reaction, because you are trying so hard to play it cool right now. “Do you have something I could change into?” You ask him, breaking the awful silence between you.

“Doesn’t Seungmin have anything for you?” Is his immediate response and your mouth opens and closes at that. His question is genuine, but also yours makes him jump in the inside.

You smile softly at him, shrugging. “You know how he treasures his stuff…” Looking at him, you realize that maybe you shouldn’t have asked him that. You were already bold enough for today…His face didn’t tell you much, but from what you can see, it looks like he doesn’t want to. “Sorry, I’ll ask someone else–“

His hand silences you, lips pulled together. He again feels embarrassed by the way he reacts so brightly yet so dimly around you, but he can’t missed the opportunity of giving you something his. “No…come with me.” Your face forms again in the same smile as before, but now it is more genuine.

He knows his steps are looking a little too fast, eager even, but when he walked pass you his nose was again hit with your perfume. He really couldn’t wait anymore to give you something, for you to return it back leaving only the linger of your smell behind. When he nears his room, he suddenly remembers the small mess he left it in. He is already dying inside, because no way you will see his room, be with him even just for a few minutes alone and he really is looking forward to bask in your presence alone. Though he really didn’t want to flick the lights on and give you the view of the mess of clothes, so he just goes inside blindly, trying to find his lamp. After few stumbles he finally turned it on, but it still didn’t make the mess disappear much to his disappointment.

You however don’t really put too much mind to it, because he is man after all and also you are a little occupied with looking around his room. Few posters are plastered on the wall, eyes falling on to his guitar at the corner of his room. You remember liking every post of his playing, spending a little too much time analyzing how his fingers moved so smoothly over the instrument. Han unknowingly to you came after each one of your likes to Minho, jumping in excitement from this small gesture, only for it to be answered with a groan every single time.

You watch the brunette go through his closet, making your way to his bed. His back was turned to you, so he didn’t see you slowly lowering yourself to sit on his bed. He was too caught up in finding the perfect thing for you to leave your scent on. “So…” You trail off, so quietly you feared the he didn’t hear you, but his head snaps so quickly to you, you think he had a whiplash. “You really haven’t tried it before?” You hate yourself for not keeping this small wonder to yourself.

Han nearly forgot about you being here with him, the question striking confusion in him. “What exactly?” Maybe there is too much on his mind right now, like you for example and the need of finding something for you to sleep in.

The small pout on his face is cute, cheeks puffed out and eyebrows furrowed. Again the way he lets himself be so quiet and quite soft spoken around you, helps you come out of your shell more. The fact you don’t feel any effect from the alcohol anymore tells you that this confidence was coming from you only. In the air lingered something raw as he looked at you sitting on his bed and he really can’t say that he hates how you just sat on it without his permission. He kind of liked it how bold you are sometimes. Maybe it isn’t actually such a deal, but it is to him, any way of having you on his bed is a win for him.

You pat the spot next to to you, hand digging into the softness of his sheets. “Come here.” You say, nearly in a whisper and again you are using your spell on him.

A dumb ‘huh?’ flies out of his mouth, because that is the only answer he could form at that moment. The quietness seems to suffocate him as well as also your intense stare, looking like an angel from the way the light of his lamp created a halo around your head. It was never this quiet in the dorm ever, even at night, it felt like you two were the only people here — but in his heart it is only you.

“Come here.” You repeat again with the same tone, patting the same spot again.

Right next to you, again. A little closer, too close, he just knows, he will shut off from the proximity. But he really wants to make you happy and also he is getting really curious about what you want to whisper to him in that sultry voice of yours. Han is a literal puppet, you have him in the palm of your hand and finally — you see it. Your lips are tugged up in to a small smile as you watch him take careful steps to you, before sitting down right beside you.

With your hand blocking him from getting even closer to your body, it kind of calms him. His hands fall onto his lap, eyes going over the crotch of his jeans. The situation, the awful situation you put him through was painful and hard to get through. After you literally made him hard just by hovering over him, you put him through hell, him fighting the argue to not just go to the bathroom and jerk off, till he would cum all over himself at the thought of you. The reason was that his band members would never let him live out a peaceful day if he would and also he didn’t want you to figure it out. Not let you figure out that he would jerk off, just because of you, literally few rooms away — though it’s not like he hasn’t done it before…

“Okay.” He says, palms of his hands sweating wildly as you leaned back on to your hands. He can’t let his eyes travel down the length of your body, he can’t — “What were you talking about?” His voice came out smooth, but not too much to his the ability to talk again vanished away when you say the next word.

“Choking.”

“Oh!” Is the first thing he says, laughing again in disbelief at the way you just so casually brought this thing up. You didn’t talk much before this. Only a few side conversations about a new movie, his love for superheroes etc., but never anything that would get you guys close enough for you to get the green card to ask something so intimate. He swallows nervously as you only stare at him back, waiting. “Yeah, I have never tried it before.” He also shakes his head as he didn’t answer you already.

You know he didn’t. He seems to be honest whenever you are around and you think you’re slowly understanding his behavior towards you. Even if there’s a mask of fake confidence on your face right now, you still try to be the leader of the conversation as you also started it. The more you think this through, the more you realize how you are probably taking this way too far, but in some way you can’t help it. The thing about confidence is that no one know if it’s fake or not. However he still in some way makes you feel a little more sure about yourself, but also you still can’t help, but feel shy around him. How could you not?

You literally sat on top of him, like you would ride his cock hidden inside his baggy jeans to your displeasure. He gave you the vibe of a total loser, maybe because of the black framed glasses, but also he is the hottest guy you have ever seen. You already feel the change between you two when you hovered over his body like that. His brown eyes shined in the light the same way as they are right now, him still patiently waiting for you to continue. You at his stare really become unsure about this whole thing you are trying to get at. “And do you want to?” You ask him, your eyes momentarily falling onto his hands. “Do you want to try it?”

His lips parted at that, answer a little late as his attention is slightly taken away by the way your lips moved, forming those pretty words. “Well, yeah?” He says, both of you already knowing the answer, but his little, pretty head didn’t catch that you meant it a little differently.

“I meant with me…” You say quietly, turning away from him as he only looks at you in total shock plastered on his face.

His heart jumps wildly, head spinning from your sentence. He thinks he is dreaming, he must be, because there’s literally no way that you just said that. He wished to take you right there, but he is only capable of looking like a fish on a desert. ‘-with me…’, he repeats again. Han is ready to pass out. He already thought that he was lucky enough for you to chose him when you were playing the game, but now this? He feels his chest warm up, heat totally different from the usual one spreading across his body.

He watches you turn away from him and — is that you being shy around him? His heart already can’t take this further, but most importantly it hates the fact you are not looking at him. “Are you serious? I don’t know, we are–” He is again lost of words as usual. He really doesn’t want to say the status between you two and ruin everything for him.

Your eyes fall shut for a split second, throwing the obvious embarrassment over your shoulder so you won’t crumble at his feet. “If it would make you uncomfortable–“

“No!” You jump, frightened a little by his loudness, looking at him with wide eyes. His own flicker over your features, missing how your chests rise with the same deep breaths. “Sure!” He says, again wanting to slap himself for answering that. “I mean…whatever — it’s cool.” There is no such thing as cool when it comes to you and specifically this.

The temperature in the room rises up as your frozen body slowly melts. A short silence hangs in the air, taking your time to go over his pretty face. “Okay.” You whisper.

The confirmation makes him hot all over, fidgeting. Han held his breath as you pull yourself up, turning your body into his direction. You both look at each other with longing in your eyes, he almost making a noise when you bite down at your lower lip. He doesn’t know how it is possible, but you are even more beautiful when you are looking at him. Fully at him, no one else, just him. He can already die as a happy man when you shuffle a little closer to him, your hand just grazing his leg over his jeans. Your own breaths came out rigid as you glance at him, following the slow closing of his eyes, like a cat.

A moment past by just staring at each other and even if you don’t mind it that much, the more you glance down at his pretty hands the more you became desperate. You crave his hands on your neck, squeezing just right and hard for you to see black spots. He doesn’t seem to notice your slow struggle, looking at him in waiting. Han only has this look on his face and other than that he doesn’t move an inch. Your mouth opens, nearly a chuckle thumbling out of you by this, it was starting to get a little awkward. “Well…are you going to?” You roll the words slowly out of your lips with a small embarrassed giggle, when he still doesn’t move.

Your words snap him out of the state he is in a little, gaze traveling to your own hand that gestures to your neck. He feels the immediate known burning sensation on his cheeks and chest. “Oh!” Again with this, it seems like you always make him speechless. The shyness on your face makes him smile a little, but it was more sheepish. He should’ve known by the look you were giving him back in the living room that you meant it like this. He is starting to get the idea that there really wasn’t even a small thought of you doing it to him…Though the image of his own hand around your pretty neck is pleasing it’s just not something he truly desires. “I thought…i meant it the other way kind of–“ Han mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

Your jaw falls to the floor a little at his confession. The embarrassment melts into something way more different after those words, even if he looks like an absolute blushing mess, he still waits for your answer. You actually are a little…troubled. Your gaze falls on to his neck, remembering how his Adam’s apple moved up and down, how the small stray string of water traveled down the length of it. “You want me to choke you?” You say, just to be sure, starting to feel the rumbling inside your tummy.

He wants to die. No way you said it out loud. He knows it was kind of obvious from his statement but still…you are literally talking about one of his biggest dreams. He can’t count how many times his own hand was squeezing at his neck, imagining it was yours instead. “Yes-“ He says breathlessly in desperation, swallowing the embarrassing reaction right after at your unrelenting expression. “Well, I haven’t try it either way, but I can do it to you.” He isn’t so sure If he could handle that, but he’s not that stupid to miss the opportunity.

You are still trying to get over the fact that he wants you to do it to him more. You completely forget that you wanted it first, because you simply can’t get the idea of having your hand around his neck out of your head. “Well, I kind of want to do what you want to do…” You say, again biting at your lip.

“Okay–“ He squeaks out.

You slowly move even closer to him, knees touching each other. You don’t waste anymore time, because you think you will go crazy otherwise. You raise your hand to his neck, watching how he nervously swallows, but you realize something. This whole thing was a little…casual in some way. You want him way closer than this, you need it. “Wait–“ You say, laughing a little at how awkward you are behaving. He nearly falls down to his knees to beg you to not stop as the hand that just graze his sensitive skin falls back to your side. “I can’t just do it — that would be weird.”

He sighs through his nose quietly. “Why?” Han hopes you don’t see the way his eyes shinned in neediness.

“It is better if it’s in the moment, you know? Otherwise it’s just not it.” You click your tongue at him, the muscle mesmerizing him for a second as you lick at your red stained lips. Han is actually really in the moment right now, he is already getting off to this in some way. He thought it couldn’t get better as you sit so closely to him, ready to choke him to a blissful death he hopes, but then you really surprise him. “Can I kiss you?” The question hangs heavily in the air. “Just to show you how it feels?”

You leaned closer to him with those words, boldly fanning your words across his face, fogging up his glasses. Han literally moans in his head. He wants to pinch himself right now, but even so if this would be a dream, he wouldn’t want to wake up. Your eyes become hooded, your eyeshadow making your whole look a little too intense for him to handle. He becomes putty in your hands, breathing out a sigh that sounded dangerously close to a whine. “Yeah, just to show me how it feels…” He repeats, already pushing his head down to line his face with yours.

“Yeah…” You say in the same tone, before smashing your lips to his.

You could taste everything on him. From his sweet chapstick that made his lips feel so soft, to the cider he drank on his tongue that slightly grazed over yours. Your eyes are closed to fully savour this feeling, but you could just tell he is trying really hard not to touch you. You want him to, those freaking hands of his make you feral. How they move across his guitar or how he simply opens a can with his middle finger like nothing, made you gush. It’s embarrassing that you are already feeling your panties sticking to you, but you can’t help it. The boy really knows how to kiss.

The quite loud smacks of your lips echoed through the room and when you experimentally pull away little, you immediately feel him chasing your lips. But you make it even better for him as your teeth wrapped around his plump bottom lip, biting and nibbling at it. His mouth falls open in a silent moan and you perfectly take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Your tongue wraps itself around his and you have to sigh into him as your spits mix together. It was so fucking messy, just how you like it and just how he needs it. Han was completely at your mercy, body slumped forward, towards you and he just could feel the tears of pleasure burning and begging for more. He didn’t even know that this was your plan all along — to get him like this, completely drunk on you, so he wouldn’t expect your next move.

You had experience, you knew how it feels like when you are the least expecting it. You tremble just at the thought, hand touching his chest, momentarily trailing up and down. Your hand just barely touches his fresh tattoo and it makes him pull himself closer to you at that, but he completely still as your hand travels up. His kisses become a lot less precise, saliva trailing down his chin, but your own tongue stops it, licking him all up. His lips again parted, but now the whine building his chest is finally released as you wrap your finger around his neck, squeezing.

You shiver at the sound, hand already grabbing a little too hard for his first time, but he doesn’t seem to be opposed to it. He throws his head back, letting you climb onto your knees so you could still catch another small whine in your mouth. You are already soaking through your underwear, juices leaking onto your inner thighs. If he would just looked down he would see it, your lace panties completely ruined only by him. You have to pull away a little for him to see his face and it is to die for.

“Good?” You tease a little, because the pathetic frown on him is probably the best thing you have ever seen. You can feel him swallow under your hand, sweat rolling down his face and you quickly wonder what else you can do to him. The need to have him under you again is immense, you want to suffocate him with your body — in a good way of course.

Han is completely fucked right now. His cock is painfully digging into the hard material of his jeans and he knows that if you would squeeze more he would literally cum untouched. “Fuuuck…I-I–“ He can’t form any words, eyes blinking open to look at you.

You humm a little, head tilting to the side, your hair falling over both of your faces. You can see it on his face, in his eyes that the tears reflecting in them are just a pure pleasure. “Hm? Talk to me.” You say, loosing your grip a little to maneuver his head to the side. You feel his pulse pumping wildly around your fingertips as your lips touch his jaw.

A low moan rings in the air, loud enough for you to hear it. Han’s head – whole body is only supported by your hand on his throat, because he can only tremble in your hold when you kiss his jaw, all the way to his ear lobe. “Fuck me…” He groans a little, head fuzzy as your teeth nibble at his ear. Your sudden stop at your passionate kissing, makes him realize what he just said. “I mean–“ He tries to safe it by turning his head to look at you, only again going mute by the way your lipstick is smudged across your lips — he just knows it’s also all over his own and he will gladly wear it for you. “It feels good, better than I imagine, but…”

“But?” You continue, hand still unmoving, tips of your noses touching. He finds the gesture endearing.

His own tongue comes to lick at his lips and he realize he was right as he faintly tastes your glossy lipstick. His hands grip at his sheets tightly, material spilling over his fingers. He looks at you like a marvelous painting, not even feeling the small pain by having his neck in such position. “I need you closer…please.” Those are his words, the last one voiced out in a complete desperation.

You can’t fight against the smile spreading across your face and he melts again at such sight. The next thing that comes makes his cock jump, lips open wide. You swing your leg to strandle him like before, but now he could fully feel the delicious weight on him. “Holy shit–“ You really want to laugh, you really do, maybe make him a blushing mess, but seeing that this is already a little too much for him, you keep your mouth shut for now.

His throat is released from your grip, but before he could complain, your mouth is again on his. When you feel him deepen the kiss, you let out a small noise of bliss. There’s no way you can’t feel him under you and his guess turns out to be the truth when you ground yourself on him. You pull away from him again, just to hear the delicious gasp. His eyes are wide, dark, staring into yours, watching you move on his lap. There’s again this small smile on your lips and you can’t help yourself, but roll your hips harder against his to feel his tip hit your clit.

“You can touch me you know…” Your breathless voice sounds like honey to his ears, eyes shining at your request. You are starting to love the way you can make him look like this. Like a complete mess, so pathetic…If only he knew how much you are actually trying to stop yourself from just dry humping him till you both cum. You grab his hands that are still on his bed, before placing them on your waist, still not stopping your movements. “Here-“ You move his right hand up to your breast, not missing the small twitch of his cock. “–or here.” You leave his hand on your left tit, his hand fitting perfectly around it and he could your nipple poking at his palm. He watches you closely, a nasty curse flying out of his mouth when you move his other hand to your center.

He looks down at your legs, muscles jumping from your smooth moves. Your dress rides up to your thighs and when you tilt your hips closer to him, he gets a glimpse of your underwear. With the lamp light he sees the wet spot on to the front of the lacy material as well as also your stained inner thighs. Han can’t believe, he made you look like that, so wet and so full of lust, keeping his hand on your thigh for a while. You are so so soft — he remembers the day when you put that amazing smelling lotion on your legs after a day at the beach. He didn’t get a look at your bikini nor your body, because he had to go early to help Minho with groceries. He wanted to kill him for that. But now? This is better than he could have ever imagine.

He squeezes your tit lightly, only doing it harder right after when you whimper. You are a literal siren, luring him in to giving you anything and everything. He does want that. His fingers tweak your nipple skillfully, letting out a shocked moan at his sudden confidence. His other hand finally trails up you thigh, dipping his fingers in your essence before they press into you. You just happen to roll into them, sighing at the pressure. “More – give me more, Han.” You sound incredible. It should’ve come out as a plead, but he only hears it like demand.

His eyes keep going back and forth between his hand fondling your breast to you rolling your pussy, but he stops his gaze on your face. Your mouth is open, freely letting out sighs of pleasure and even if he’s probably the one that should be dominant, it’s you instead. He pulls your panties to the side, moaning with you when he trails his fingers through your folds. The grip you had on his shoulder, nails digging into his exposed skin peaking out of his sweater, makes his head momentarily roll back.

Your hole gushes more as his fingers circle your clit, you messily rolling your hips into his hand. The sight of his exposed neck and the need of being filled, the need leads you to shoving him in the chest. He lets out a small yelp as his back meets the mattress, watching you taking his hand between your legs and moving it a little more down. The tips of his fingers find your opening, letting you sit down on them.

He now finds himself again at this position with you being on top of him, but now with his fingers inside of you. The way he curls the tips of his fingers, makes you whimper, his ring rubbing deliciously against you. You are so warm and wet, your ass rubbing against him as you start to ride his fingers. “Oh…oh!” He gasps out, eyebrows shooting up as you bounce on his fingers, his hand becoming still..

Your thighs shook from the pleasure, palm of his hand just grazing over your clit. Even in your state you can’t miss how his breathing is getting heavier and heavier, like it was his cock you were riding. The thoughts make you look down, seeing the perfect outline and you realize you in fact can’t torture him and yourself for ever. “Want me to ride you?” You rasp out, the confidence radiating from you making his hips jump. “Want me to ride your cock, Han?”

“Fuck, yeah – please, ride me–“ He sounds so good like that, looking at you with puppy eyes as you pull yourself off his fingers. You miss the feeling of being filled, but you know it won’t take long before you have something even better.

You shuffle a little down to take his sweater from the front his jeans, giving you a glimpse of his hard abdomen. You are thankful that there’s no belt in your way, just flicking his fly open, pulling at the hard material and his boxers. He helps you pull his pants hallway, both of you too desperate to really strip fully. Your mouth waters as his cock springs up, hitting his stomach, the material of his sweater roughly grazing over him.

If you knew sooner that he was sporting such a pretty cock, you maybe would’ve said something sooner. His tip is painfully red, leaking, big vein running all the way from his balls to his tip. You wish for him to fuck your mouth, so deeply that the short hairs on his pubic bone would tickle your nose — next time…there will be next time definitely.

You grasp his heavy cock, thumb pushing at his hole, leaking even more around your digit. “How much do you want me, baby? Tell me–“ He moans wildly when you start to pump him too slowly to his liking.

He again gets a good view of your tits hanging out of the top of your dress, areola peaking at him. He blushes at your words, gasping as you pucker your lips, spit falling onto his tip, before spreading it over him. “I want you so bad.” He cries out at the end, because you squeeze him even harder. “Y/N, please. I wanted you for so long — ah! Do anything you want to me–“

You get a lot more out of him than you expected and his confession and plead, made you even wetter. “Anything you say?” You ask, him furiously nodding his head as you lean over his body, hand releasing him, cock slapping against your inner thigh. “Then open up–“ Han’s mouth is opened wider with your fingers at his lips and he nearly comes all over you when you spit in his mouth. He whimpers at your taste, he fucking whimpers — he even swallows it before you could even say it to him and that makes you finally sit down on his thick cock.

You quite underestimate his size, you own desperation blinding you. You feel him stretching you, burn however so good, your hips instantly roll down onto him. He already sees stars, looking onto his ceiling, wondering if was just send to heaven. Your walls suck him right in, pussy so good he already fights the urge to not fuck into you — he wants to be good to you, he wants to be your good boy.

You say his name, hands grasping the bottom of his sweater to pull it up, so you can see his slutty waist. He is so loud — he probably doesn’t even realize it, with his hands falling to your chest messily groping you, glasses already falling from his face. You let him pull the top of your dress down, tits spilling out and letting them bounce in the air. “You feel so good.” He moans, a sob or sorts falling out his lips, emotions all over the place.

He is so happy and so fucking horny. The way you move on top of him is so good that he just lets you do all of the work, pushing yourself up and down on him, rutting, hips rolling — he’s a total wreck. But he becomes a total mess when your hand again falls onto his neck, immediately grasping it roughly. “Oh my–“ He can’t finish, your grip kind of stoping him to do so, but he just can’t do anything other than be a whimpering mess. Han didn’t even know himself he could sound like that. You also let out a series of high pitched sounds, your fast movements making his bed creak and bang onto the wall. You hope everyone hears how good you are riding his cock. Fuck, Hyunjin, Minho and Seungmin, they can only wish to be in his place instead.

“Momm–“ Han chokes wildly from his own voice, eyes flying right open to look at you. Your hips shutter against his, your own eyes widening, but he could feel how you tightened around him. The grip on his neck surprisingly becomes tighter as you also pick up your speed. You never thought he would be so submissive, but you loved every second of it and hearing him almost call you that…

“Yeah, baby wanna cum? Wanna cum for mommy?” Han cries out, head pressing into his pillow. His mind spins from your words, hands gripping your waist.

He can’t think straight. A drool rolls down his chin to pool at your fingers around his neck, glancing at you. You moan at his state — he looks like a complete fucked out slut. “Please, mommy wanna cum for you, but — I-I need you to cum first-“

“Such a good boy.” You compliment him, your tongue tasting the sweat on your body. He whimpers again, letting you take his hand from your waist to put it around your own neck. “Make your mommy cum, Hannie–“ You lowly mumble.

As his own hand grabs your delicate neck, pressing into roughly, he soon sees why you love it so much. Your red face, puffy lips and his hand keeping your head tilted down for your gaze to be only on him, Han thinks that this look will be the death of him. His cock throbs inside you, feeling his tip kissing at your cervix slightly — so good. His other hand grips full of your waist, helping you move even more wildly against him.

You both gasp slightly for air, the familiar black spot appearing in your vision. Your own hand tightens around his neck, him giving you a long deep groan in return, completely different from the other sounds he gave you. Your skins meet with nasty loud smacks!, sticking and melting into each other. Your sweat starts to mix together, your hips jumping as you feel your sweet release. Like he could read your mind, he starts to fuck into you, making you see stars, his cock pressing roughly into your spot.

Your mouth hangs open, drool also rolling down your face, before in falls onto his stomach. He groans at your face, loving your messed up make-up and your body leaning more into him. When you start to moan more he keeps up the same pace, watching your legs tremble, body shaking, cunt forming a creamy ring around him as you cum. “Holy fuck! Just like that–“ Han slurs out.

You for a moment just lean into his hands, because you think you almost blacked out for real for the mind shattering orgasm. The way he still keeps fucking you, using your body to chase his own pleasure brings you to a quick overstimulation. You whine, grasping his hand around your throat and he at least loosen his grip a little to let you catch your breath. It burns, but with everything happening so fast you only cry out, squeezing his throat a little too much by your overstimulation.

Han’s eyes widened at your roughness, not missing your own state of fucked out even with the tears in his eyes. “I’m going to cum! — ohhhhhhh–“ He starts to literally sob, making you snap back to reality just to watch him cum under you.

“Gonna cum? Gonna cum for mommy? You’ve been such a good boy – you are mommy’s good boy. l-look at you, fucking this pussy so good, making your mommy cum so fucking hard –“

His hand falls from your neck, pressing into your tummy, his hips jumping as he cums inside you with a loud moan of pleasure. You gasp for air and same for him when you release him from your grip, your body slumping on top of his. With how deep he’s breathing his chest makes you move up and down, the hands on your body falling by his sides, completely wasted. His cum leaks slowly out of you, his cock still twitching and you on the other hand milking him dry. Your head is a fog and his is nothing – literally nothing, because the fact this was the best sex he ever had, makes him unable to form even a single thought.

You both take your time catching your breaths and after few deep intakes of air, his right hand start to caress the top of your head and yours his arm. You can feel him smiling when he kisses your forehead lovingly, making you mirror his expression, pulling your head from his chest. However your eyes firstly fall on his neck, red marks left behind and as he touches your own, you know you must have them also. “Did you like it?” You ask him and he rolls his eyes into the back of his head at such question and also from the fresh memories.

He groans firstly, before laughing in delight, the sound rumbling his chest. “Are you kidding?” Han asks you in disbelief, pulling you down to kiss you sweetly on your lips. “I loved it.” He whispers against your lips, your own forming into a smile. “But–will you...can I be your boyfriend?”

You laugh at him, pushing yourself up to our elbows to fully look at him. “Of course, you dummy ah!–“ You can’t finish as he flips you over, silencing your cry of surprise with a kiss.

When his laugh mixes with yours, body pressing into yours, feeling his soft cock hardening again, you knew you were in for a ride.

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pullupinarari · 7 months ago

Text

Hands on my neck [LH]

author's note: i'm sorry if this is shit, i'm having so much doubts about this one 🥴 anyway, hope y'all enjoy this! mwah

warnings: MINORS, DON'T INTERACT‼ dom Lewis, slightly aggressive, sir kink, major pain kink, a whole lot of choking with no mercy at all, a bit of size kink, creampie, unprotected sex, oral sex (m receiving), some praising and dirty talk. Let me know if I'm missing something!

• masterlist

wc: 5603 - English is not my first language! Feedback is always appreciated

Singapore, here you are again. It’s another weekend of supporting your husband in one of his races, something that you love to do.

Lewis had to leave your shared hotel room earlier to go to a meeting with his team, so you had more time to get ready. The heat and the humidity in the air made you choose a simple dress to wear for today, you think you look cute in it - it hugs your figure perfectly and will help you deal with the warmth creeping through your body already.

Your husband was still stuck in the meeting while you were wandering around the track, enjoying the silence that lingers in the space now, knowing how chaotic things will be tomorrow when practice starts. Your eyes focus in every little detail as you walk along every garage, greeting some people that you know already, waiting for time to pass by so you can meet Lewis again.

You’re almost going back to the Mercedes’ garages, when someone from Red Bull’s team comes to talk to you. You don’t really know the man in front of you, but you don’t want to be rude, especially since he is just talking to you about the race and the teams, nothing else.

After talking for a few minutes, he lets you know that his name is Josh, he’s a bit younger than you and he has been working for Red Bull for only a few months now. “I’ve seen you around a couple of times already” - he notes, shooting a smile in your direction. “It’s impossible not to notice your presence, but it’s always very pleasant to see you here” - the boy adds.

You chuckle at his innocence, letting him know why he will continue to see you around - explaining your relationship with Lewis. The boy acts goofy, and manages to steal some laughs from you, making it seem like time is flying now.

Lewis is finally free from his meeting, already feeling annoyed and tired, done with dealing with problems for today. The only thing he wants now is to see you, to go back to your shared hotel room and to have a calm dinner, followed by a chill night by your side so he can forget about work for a couple of hours.

The man sighs once he steps outside, pulling his braids out of his face as he strolls around the paddock, looking for you. He is about to dial your number, when he hears your laugh echoing through the garages. His feet follow the sound and his eyebrows furrow once you come into sight - not just you, but also your new friend, who you seem to find very funny.

Lewis is not in the mood for this, he really isn’t. He just wanted to get some rest, he wanted to cuddle you until you would both fall asleep, but the view in front of him is making his blood boil already. The stupid boy keeps touching you, his hand caressing your arm, your shoulder, and the fact that you are wearing a tight dress that shows all your curves, on full display for him, doesn’t sit right with Lewis, feeling the possessiveness emanating from his body now.

“There you are” - your husband says as he reaches you. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere” - his voice shows no emotion at all, but your body notices the way he immediately wraps his arm around you, his grip tightening around your waist, while he looks you deep in the eyes.

“Oh, I was walking around and when I was going back to your garage, Josh interrupted my walk and came to talk to me” - you say, letting a giggle loose out of your mouth, feeling how tense the environment around you got as soon as Lewis showed up.

Josh stretches out his hand to greet the driver, but Lewis just side-eyes him for a second, before looking at you again. “I’m glad you had fun, but it’s time for us to go” - he says, irony lacing his voice while he keeps a stern tone.

You glance at your husband, knowing damn well what he’s doing now. You try to say goodbye to the boy that spoke with you for almost an hour, but Lewis just starts walking away, his grip on you never loosening.

“Why do you always have to act like this?” - you ask with annoyance, genuinely just trying to reason with him.

“Shut up, I’m already pissed enough” - that’s all he says through gritted teeth, before both of you get in the car, heading back to the hotel.

Silence fills the car, except for two or three times when Lewis made small talk with the driver - but never acknowledged you. He is lying back in his seat, with his left elbow resting in the window sill, his knuckles covering his mouth - trying to hide the anger splattered on his face.

You try to get closer to him, but his right arm is resting between his legs, while his fingers tap on the seat impatiently. He doesn’t even look at you, afraid that he might lose it right here if his eyes land on your body, if his skin touches yours. He can’t wait to get to the hotel, so he can get rid of all the frustration flowing through his body now.

Once you’re back in your room, Lewis closes the door behind him, his eyes darkening immediately as your gazes meet one another. He walks to you, hands starting to roam your body as you feel magnetized to him, drawing him impossibly close to you, making it impossible for him to resist you.

Your mouth searches for his, devouring each other just as both of you were desperate to. Your arms snake around his neck, one of your hands gently securing itself to the back of his head, lightly pulling on his braids as he bites down your bottom lip, making you hiss.

“You’re a fucking menace, you know that?” - he says through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening their grip on your hips, traveling down to your ass, where he lands a hard slap.

“Thinking you can get away with flirting with dumb boys in front of me? Huh?” - he says in a raspy tone, his body guiding yours until the back of your knees hits the bed. His mouth is glued to your neck, marking his territory right away as he sucks on your sweet spot while his body towers over yours, lying you down on the mattress.

Feeling his mouth on your burning skin is enough to make you whimper, silently begging him to touch you, to give you more as your fingers roam his back, his chest, everywhere you can get your hands on.

“Stop acting dumb, baby girl. You fucking pissed me off, letting that stupid kid get close to you, making you laugh like he’s sooo funny” - he stops kissing your body as he gets up.

Lewis quickly pulls his shirt off his body, and your eyes can’t help but wander through his skin, and he notices how you bite your lip as he caresses his growing bulge.

His facial expression is serious and stern, almost as if you could see smoke coming out of his nostrils. He grabs your ankles, pulling your body to the edge of the bed like it’s nothing.

You remain silent, analyzing the best way to play this game with him.

“Wearing this fucking dress that suits you so fucking well, fuck-” - he is the one biting his own lip now as he unveils one of your boobs harshly, messing with the fabric of your dress until his hands are on your thighs, on their way to pull down your underwear.

You know he is going to make you moan and whimper for him the entire night, but you are not going to give in so easily. With a devilish smirk playing on your lips, you finally speak up.

“You know, I was actually really enjoying talking to him” - you say slowly, declaring every word while you look Lewis dead in the eyes.

In a second, his hand is wrapping around your neck, while his face is just centimeters away from yours. “Oh, is that right?” - he asks you, a playful tone leaving his mouth as he watches your reaction very attentively.

You nod, challenging him. “Josh is actually a cutie. At least he gave me company while you were away” - you touch the wound: the fact that he is away so much, the fact that you spend way too much time alone, missing him, having to take care of yourself alone, touching yourself to nothing when he’s on the other side of the globe.

The grip on your neck tightens, but you’re not afraid. If he wants to play this game, he will have to tame you until you’re writhing under him, losing your senses, on the verge of passing out from all the pleasure he endures on you - and Lewis knows it.

“Are you sure that you wanna go there?” - he asks and you shrug, acting like you don’t even care, as if having sex with him was really not that special. And the way you act so careless, as if he is insignificant, makes him even more angry.

Lewis grabs your panties and throws your body back into the middle of the bed, positioning you as he pleases, like you are made of rags and stitches. Soon, your hands are being held above your head, while Lewis is using your own set of panties to tie them to the bed headboard.

“I gave you a chance to back down, baby girl. You want to act stupid, like your new cute friend? I’ll make you go dumb until you don’t even remember your own name” - you know this is more than a threat, you know he will make you forget about Josh, your attitude, and even who you are.

Lewis gets up from the bed once again, taking his pants off now before walking to the door, locking it and throwing the key in a corner somewhere.

“You have no idea what you’ve just woken up, good luck escaping me now, baby girl” - he ironically says before meeting your body again.

He towers over you, biting your earlobe and the path down your neck while his fingers carefully start touching your pussy, smirking to himself as he feels how turned on you are by now.

“You’re so wet already and I haven’t even touched you. Are you that needy for me?” - his ego inflates while he continues to collect your wetness in his middle finger, using it to caress your pussy lips.

You try your hardest to suppress a moan, wanting to push him to the edge. “I was actually thinking that maybe Josh could join us, one day” - you give him a wink, seeing how infuriated he looks now. His hand leaves your cunt immediately, and his left one wraps around your neck again.

“Shut the fuck up. I am not dealing with your bullshit anymore tonight. You want to be a brat? I’ll treat you like one” - he argues back, choking you harder now, while his right hand flies to land a slap on your warm pussy, making you yelp in response.

You and Lewis know each other like the back of your hands. He knows you enjoy this too much - the choking, the slaps, the pain. So, he knows it doesn’t feel like a punishment to you, but he still does it, so he can see the reactions that your body shows, the ones you can’t control and that drive him wild. The way your skin turns red, how your breathing gets shallow, how you can’t keep the moans from leaving your lips, even if you try.

You daydream about having him all to yourself, about misbehaving so he can get a little bit more rough with you, taming you the way you like. The feeling of choking under his touch, squirming while he pushes himself inside of you, the way he slaps your skin until it’s painted red, making you scream out in pleasure.

One, two, three, four, five slaps land on your pussy, and that’s the only sound that’s audible in the room, while you and Lewis are looking each other dead in the eyes, fighting a silent battle, the intensity between you two can be felt in the air.

The sting between your legs is unbearable now, feeling like your pussy is on fire from all the slapping, feeling it throbbing and hurting as Lewis’ action comes to a stop.

“I really wasn’t going to do all this, princess. But you’re such a fucking brat” - he tells you as if he feels sorry for what he’s about to do to you.

His fingers enter you without a warning, working on your pussy fast and hard, stretching you out, getting you ready for him. Lewis gets on his knees, so his hand can work from a different angle, making you groan and bite your lip as the tip of his fingers reach your g-spot.

You try your best to hold your moans, not wanting to give into him, standing your ground with your stubborn attitude. But now, the new position makes him lean his entire weight on his other hand, that’s still tightly wrapped around your neck, feeling how it’s getting hard to breathe, how you will absolutely have lots of marks to hide tomorrow morning.

You open your legs wider for him, and he gets the hint. The thing is, you woke the most dominant side of Lewis, and he isn’t stopping now, nor anytime soon.

Lewis can’t deny that having you splattered in front of him, acting so submissive just for his eyes, drives him insane as well. He is the only one that can get the best out of you, knowing how to work your body, how to maximize your pleasure until you’re seeing stars. And you will always be his, he is the only one that can see you like this - fragile, vulnerable, hot and wet, actually dripping at the sight of him, your husband.

He removes his fingers from inside of you, feeling how drenched they are with your juices now, leaving you empty - and you can’t help but whine a little bit, so he can see how needy you are for him.

“You should have thought about that before” - he whispers in your ear, as he harshly turns your body around, so you’re lying in your stomach now.

“Ass in the air” - is all he says before you’re complying with his orders.

“Yes, Sir” - you reply, looking at him from the corner of your eye, giving him a sly smile. You know the fun is about to start.

Lewis just chuckles at your state. “You’re ridiculous” - he notes, as he takes off his own underwear now. His dick is painfully hard, and he hisses as he touches himself for a few moments.

You can’t see much from this position, but you don’t need to. You know his body by heart, you know damn well what type of sight you would have if you could see him in his plenitude right now. And the thought of it still makes you salivate, ready to take all of it.

“Wreck me, Sir. I deserve it” - you beg, your voice sounding as soft as satin, while you stretch your back so you can perk up your ass a little more for him.

Your words, mixed with the way his hand is traveling through his hard shaft are enough to make him see stars now, so he enters you without a warning. He sees how you immediately bury your head on the pillow, groaning and gasping at the way his size stretches you out.

He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, as he starts thrusting deep into you, picking up his pace quickly so he can actually punish you now.

Your screams are muffled by the pillow as Lewis’ hand slaps your ass while his dick roams inside of you. “You’ve gone really quiet now, what’s wrong baby? You don’t think Josh could fuck you like this, do you?” - he cockily tells you now, as he licks a stripe along your spine, until his mouth reaches your neck.

He plants some open mouth kisses to your back, his teeth grazing your skin as you moan loud, feeling him so incredibly deep inside of you due to the way his body is positioned.

He doesn’t slow down, and the way he rails your clamping cunt, makes the most filthy sounds echo in the room.

“Sir, please- please, I can’t take it all at once, I-” - you stutter, your mind struggling to create a phrase that makes sense now. “You’re too big” - you whine, hoping Lewis will have some mercy and slow down his pace.

But he doesn’t. “You can always use your safeword if you need it, baby. Or, you can be a good girl and take it like you deserve it” - he replies, way too drunk off your body, the moment, the atmosphere around you two suffocating him now, the same way his dick feels strangled inside your tight cunt.

You choose not to use the safe word, using all the strength left inside of your body to take it, to allow him to destroy you just like you asked. Your hands are gripping the hem of the sheets now, almost ripping the panties apart so you can free yourself at this point.

Lewis is drowning himself in your juices, loving how incredibly wet you are for him - the control he has over you drives him insane. He could break you and you would still thank him for it. His hand wraps around your hair, pulling your head up.

“Look at me, Y/N. Look at how well you’re taking me, all of me” - he bites his lip as your eyes meet, hearing your moans sounding like he just went straight to heaven.

“You know why, baby?” - he gently caresses your hair, before pushing you back on the mattress, grabbing your neck from behind and forcing you to muffle your screams with a pillow again.

“Because you belong to me, your husband” - he emphasizes the words, as his hands hold you even tighter now, marking his fingertips on your hips.

Your makeup is all smudged by now, some tears escaping from your eyes as pleasure and pain meet, feeling incredibly worn out by the way he keeps drilling inside of you, like his life depends on it.

Lewis is close, so close. He can feel it, and he brings you closer and closer, until your bodies are almost becoming one. He doesn’t think he has ever grabbed you this hard, he doesn’t remember a time where he was so desperate to chase his orgasm, not caring about you cumming first. You don’t deserve it, he should leave you stuttering and begging, actually acting dumb because you’re so desperate for a release.

The feeling is too much to bear, and he’s almost there. One of his hands leaves your hip to travel until your boob, smacking it before pinching your nipple, getting off of inflicting pain on your body tonight. You contort and scream out of pleasure, loving the pain and the way it heightens the pleasure you feel.

You too are desperate to cum, to finally feel the bubble in your stomach burst, and there’s nothing you want more than Lewis’ hand to reach your clit, to stroke it and to make you convulse under his touch.

But he hits his high first - just like he wanted, pulling your hips closer to him as he moans loud, emptying himself inside of you while he is holding you in place, so your pussy can milk it all off his cock.

His hand goes to his hair while he takes deep breaths to help and calm down his state. After a second, his dick finally gets out of your cunt, loving the sight of his cum dripping out of you.

You whine from the emptiness you feel now, and from feeling so horny, so desperate to have your own orgasm now.

Your sounds don’t go unnoticed, and Lewis uses the tip of his - still hard, dick to collect the bits of his seed that are leaving your hole.

“I know baby, I know” - he coos, feeling much softer now that he finally got his own release.

He uses his tip to spread his cum all over your pussy lips, applying some pressure on your clit on purpose.

“I’m sorry for being so rough”, he continues his actions, like he is using the tip of his cock to paint your body. “But you know you were begging for it” - he smirks to himself while you moan at the way his cock massages your cunt now.

“You were so good, though, baby girl. You took me so well, like you always do. But I’m especially proud of you tonight” - you could almost cum on the spot from the way he’s praising you, mixed with the way his dick is still caressing your clit nonstop.

You get lost in the feeling, focusing on every little thing that he gives you, hoping that you can have your own release by now.

“I think you may even deserve an award for tonight” - he says, while his dick leaves your pussy, but his hands travel through your back, caressing your skin gently, removing the hair from your face while you watch him from the corner of your eye. His finger gently wipes the remains of makeup that are stuck below your eye, touching your cheek fondly - earning a smile from you.

“You will always be my good girl, won’t you?” - he questions, you nod your head immediately.

“I will, Sir” - Lewis kisses your shoulder before returning to his position.

His stamina is crazy, he could fuck you all night, in all positions, rail you like you seriously deserve to be punished. But now, he just wants to focus on you. His dick slips inside of you once more easily - he goes slower now, and you moan quietly at the feeling of being full of him again.

He pushes his cum that was still lingering inside of you, threatening to spill out, back inside - fucking his juice inside of you, but taking his time with it now.

Lewis starts thrusting at a steady pace - the way he knows you love being fucked, and your moans grow louder. Your wrists are already marked from pulling on the fabric of your panties so hard, and you just wish that Lewis would free you, so you could touch him, feel him, hold on to him while he fucks you the way you like.

It’s like he can hear your thoughts: he doesn’t free your wrists, but he turns your body around so you're lying on your back now, facing him while he hugs your figure, filling you up again and hitting your sweet spot with every movement he makes. His face hides on the crook of your neck, licking and biting your sensitive spots, adding new sensations to your pleasure.

“Sir, please-” - you moan, pulling on the fucking panties again, wishing the fabric would just rip apart now. “You fuck me so good, Sir” - your words fuel his mind and body, it’s like electricity running through his veins.

“You have no idea how good you feel wrapping around my dick like this, darlin. You look like a fucking goddess when your body is at my mercy, when I get to feel how warm and wet you are on the inside, just for me, you’re all mine. And you’re so good at being mine, gorgeous” - he kisses your lips, your tongues start a fight as his hand lifts your leg so he can reach where you need him the most.

He keeps burying himself inside of you, loving the way you moan and groan into his mouth while his tongue explores yours. But he knows you’re anxious and worked up - you’re craving more, you need more. So his hand snakes in between your bodies until it reaches your clit, finally taking care of you and helping you chase your orgasm.

You are sure that you won’t last much more now that his fingers are drawing figures on your pearl - the feeling of it, mixed with the pleasure of being stuffed with your husband’s dick is making you see stars already, letting uncontrollable moans and erotic sounds leave your mouth while Lewis kisses every inch of skin that he can find, watching how your eyes roll back in pleasure.

“You need me here, don’t you baby? You love it when I hit this spot, right?” - he says in a teasing manner, slowing down his thrusts each time he reaches your g-spot, maximizing your pleasure. You can only moan and nod your head in response, almost on the verge of tears as you beg your body to reach your climax now.

And when his fingers pick up their pace, alongside his movements inside of your cunt, you finally feel the bubble starting to form on your stomach - a feeling that you were eager to meet again.

Your breathing grows erratic as you feel your body getting ready to hit your orgasm.

“You got this baby, you can let go. Just breathe, I know my girl got this, you’re almost there, baby girl” - Lewis encourages you, but he can’t help but mess with you a little bit more.

His fingers start slowing down, almost threatening to stop. You grow nervous, begging him not to stop, you need this so much, you need to cum, he can’t take it away from you again.

But this isn’t new to you. When he has you exactly where he wants, he makes you go dumb on his cock, feeling like you’re on top of the world, but not feeling free until he allows you to hit your orgasm. The hesitation of that moment in your chest makes you realize that you will never find peace as long as he is not making you cum around him.

“Say that you’re mine, my love. Come on, say it. Say that you’re mine and I’ll make you cum” - he sounds like the devil in your ear now, your eyes are closed so you can’t even see the smirk playing on his lips now, while he is still thrusting deep inside of your pulsing cunt.

In the same second, you look at him, nodding your head. “I’m all yours, Sir. Please, I’m yours, forever. Please, Sir” - you beg, but it doesn’t do it for him.

“Cut the ‘Sir’. I’m Lewis, your husband” - he looks you in the eyes before he drags his lips along your features, biting your ear lobe gently as he unties your wrists.

“I’m all yours, Lewis. Baby, I belong to you and only you” - you confess, and your mind goes blank as you feel Lewis’ fingers bullying your clit now, picking up the pace of his thrusts as well so you can reach your high.

“Good girl” - he whispers in your ear before he feels your pussy constricting around his cock, signaling that you are about to cum.

“Let go, baby girl. I’m right here, cum for me” - he encourages you and you let out the most erotic moan that your body can create when you finally feel the bubble in your stomach bursting. You hold yourself to Lewis as he helps you ride out your high, your nails digging into the skin of his bicep whilst he is slowing down his thrusts, kissing your features lovingly at the same time.

“I love you so much” - he says as he admires your features. The sweat on your face, the ruined makeup still makes you look as ethereal as you always do in his eyes, loving to see the way you look after a good night of sex with him.

“I love you more” - you reply, kissing his lips in a promise of love while he removes his dick from inside of you, and you can’t help but notice that he is still hard, he hasn’t cum again.

“You didn’t-” - he knows. And he doesn’t want you to feel guilty about it.

“It’s fine, my love. Don’t worry about it. You were the priority now” - he kisses your temple, as he gets ready to lay by your side.

But you want to help him, you want to make him feel good, so you look at him while you are getting up from your spot on the bed. You move to the edge of his side of the bed, gently pulling him by the hand so he can sit up. He knows what you want, you don’t have to voice it - and he also knows that there’s no point in trying to talk you out of it.

He sighs quietly before sitting on the edge of the bed, watching how you quickly get on your knees for him. But before you can get to action, he stops you with a hand on your cheek.

“You know you don’t have to do this, baby” - he reminds you with a soft voice.

“I want to” - you are determined, and so you notice how he gently throws his head back at the feeling of your hand wrapping around his dick, gently tightening your grip on it.

Both of you are tired at this point, you don’t want to tease him, you don’t want to wear him out even more. So you just let a string of spit drop from your mouth until it reaches the tip of his cock, making Lewis hiss at the feeling.

Your hand keeps stroking his length gently as you lick a stripe along it, until your lips reach for his swollen tip. Your tongue playfully swipes across it, making Lewis huff and groan quietly - you know he’s impatient and desperate to cum.

After a few seconds, you take him in your mouth, looking up at him, watching how Lewis moans lowly, his hand immediately reaching for your head, encouraging you to take more of his dick as you start bobbing your head up and down at a steady pace.

His cock is drenched in your saliva as you try to reach more and more of his length with each movement you make, and the sounds erupting from his lips are like music to your ears.

“Fuck, I’m not going to last long, baby. I need you so much, fuck, taking all of my cock in your mouth like the good girl that you are” - his eyes are closed, his head is thrown back as he focuses on the sensations that your mouth provides him, while you suck on his dick like you were starved for it.

Your hand reaches to play with his balls, massaging them, while your mouth never stops devouring his member - making Lewis moan louder now, and you notice how his muscles are starting to tense, how his breathing is getting shallow.

“Don’t stop now, baby, please- please, I’m almost there” - he begs you as his hand holds your head in place now, as he thrusts up to meet your movements, trying his hardest to hit his climax.

He face fucks you while your hand is still massaging his balls, grabbing them firmly, making him choke on his breathing. The sight is truly beautiful, looking straight out of a porn movie, the scene that would make all the girls wet. And how lucky you are that he is yours, all yours.

After a few moments, Lewis finally breathes out as he releases inside your mouth, grunting at the feeling of your lips sucking him dry. He ends up sighing contently as he feels his body relaxing. He finally looks down at you, giving you a grin, his thumb caressing your cheek before wiping a drop of his milk that’s dripping down your chin.

You two kiss as soon as you lay beside Lewis, him wrapping his arms around you now. The kiss is heated, passionate, your tongues battling for dominance once again.

“I taste good on you” - he tells you, before starting another lazy makeout session.

You giggle like a teen, covering your bodies with the sheets now - feeling self aware after everything you two just did.

Lewis looks at you with a smile, but his mind drifts off to the things you said earlier.

“Don’t you dare talk about bringing other people to our bed ever again” - he lets you know, while holding you closer to him possessively.

“I was just kidding, you dork” - you laugh at his serious facial expression.

“Yeah, yeah. Be a brat again and next time it will be worse” - your husband warns you, even though he is very well aware of how badly you like it when it gets rough, when he gets dominant and possessive, when pain and pleasure meet.

It’s the best secret you two keep, even with all the marks you leave on each other’s bodies after every wild night like this one. And you are hooked on him, to the point where you wouldn’t even mind wasting your whole life to have more moments with his dominant side.

You could never explain with words how much you enjoy messing with him, since it always ends with nights filled with mind numbing sex - but you know that Lewis gets it, because these are his favorite kind of nights, as well.

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton oneshot #lewis hamilton fic #lewis hamilton #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic

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softtdaisy · 2 months ago

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Heyyy congrats on the 2k 💌

I wanted to request charles leclerc with birds of a feather by billie eilish some sort of high school sweetheart thing if you could

Thank you 💞

summary. Five times Charles realized you were his soulmate; one time he told you.

words count. 2 954

song. birds of a feather by billie eolith

a/n. I really hope this is what you expected, I got inspired in a very soft and sweet way and I had a lot of fun writing it so hopefully you love it 🩷

PARTICIPATE IN MY 2K CELEBRATION

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

1. The celebration

Growing up with Charles, you always got the feeling you would spend the rest of your life with him. You couldn’t explain it.

Sure, you didn’t want to imagine a life where you wouldn’t get to see your best friend every single day. Even if it was just for a brief phone call that lasted only two minutes. When you two started dating, it became more obvious that you wouldn’t want to have another lover than Charles.

But more than that, it was like you two were made to be together. And the universe seemed to enjoy proving it to you with silly things.

Charles was the first one to point it out.

The first time he noticed that you two seemed to get good news at the same moment was during his first F2 season. You followed him to Bahrain to watch the first race. Making sure to be there to celebrate when he won the sprint race for the very first time. The following Monday, you got a call from the company of your dreams asking for an interview.

The next race in Barcelona a month later, when Charles won his first feature race, the same company called back to announce they were hiring you.

Charles didn’t say a thing. But he noticed how this kept happening every single time. And when it was something related to the both of you, you were always together to hear it. You learned you got the apartment of your dreams during a casual footing and got the adoption paper for your dog right when Charles walked through the door.

Until one day, years after his F2 season, he finally slipped it out.

“Don’t you find it funny how we always celebrate good things happening to us at the same moment?” He asked you suddenly, having nothing to do with the precedent subject.

Charles had invited you to a restaurant in Italy after he achieved another win at Monza. Something that happened right after your boss had praised you for something you’ve been working on for weeks now.

You laughed at the thought. “What’s your theory?” But he could tell from your look that you weren’t making fun of him but were simply amused by the situation. That was very much true, now that you thought about it.

“I don’t know,” he started, drinking his wine. “I just guess we were meant to be.”

“Because you doubt it?”

Charles stayed silent for a second, just appreciating the view in front of him. You. You were the best view. You, always so happy by his side, you that seemed so perfectly made for him. Like two pieces of a puzzle that only worked together.

He leaned towards you, his hand moving to your face to cup your cheek. You loved how when he did that, his thumb was always caressing your skin. Every single time. A habit so natural for him.

“Never,” he smiled before giving you the sweetest kiss.

2. The text

“Tu te rends compte que t’es vraiment niais?” Pierre laughed at his friend.

Charles rolled his eyes at the remark. He might be a little silly or cheesy when it comes to you; he might even be proud of it. He had no reason not to be when he was so happy and in love with you.

The two have been hanging out in the hotel, looking for some calm after the qualifying day. Charles got the pole, and with Pierre in the top 3, the two have been asked absolutely everywhere. He didn’t have the time to call you.

You had a hard time following him everywhere this season but always managed to be there as much as possible in any other way. You didn’t want to make him feel less supported—even if it was something that could never cross his mind.

“Let me be in love, dude,” Charles replied with a laugh that only made Pierre laugh even harder. He put his hands up in a defensive way because he learned after all these years of seeing you together that there was something he could do to stop Charles from being a pure lover boy with you.

Charles had just hung up from a phone call with his mom, who called right when he arrived there. With the time difference, he waited for you to finish the lunch you had today. The thing was, Charles knew that if he sent you a text right when he was out of the circuit, you would have put everything aside for him.

Sometimes you both fight about putting each other first. Most of these fights were silly; just each one of you wanted to prove you were the best at this. But you already argued about how this mustn't become toxic for either of you. You didn't want to reach a point where you loved each other so much you forgot about your own life.

And so he waited a minute. One single minute. Before he sent his text.

“Tell me when you’re free so I can call you, honey.”

And right when his message appeared on screen, yours did too.

“It’s over, mon amour; you can call when you want.”

Charles’ cheek turned red at the sight.

It wasn’t the first time you both managed to send texts at the exact same time. Sometimes it made sense, like right now, because you were both waiting to call each other. But most of the time, it couldn’t be predicted. Charles could even remember how many times you both managed to send each other the sky from where you were, your food, or an “OMG, I need to tell you something!!” with a few seconds apart.

He knew you screened most of them, finding it so funny. And he was glad that there was proof it wasn’t all in his head.

“No way, it happened again?” Pierre said, looking over at Charles' phone to see that indeed it happened again. “You two share the same brain at that point; there is no other explanation.”

Charles got up, ready to dial your number. “I think we do, yes,” he replied with a soft smile. Because he loved the idea of being so similar.

3. The crowd

Fratelli d'Italia was playing again in the circuit. Charles was having one of the best seasons in his career, but he would never ever get tired of hearing the Italian anthem playing. And mostly seeing the team, his friends, and his family singing it from the top of their lungs.

It hasn’t been an easy race, and multiple times, he really thought he would have to DNF. If he was in some silly romcom, he was so sure that it would have been the moment Fred would have asked you to give him some motivational words on the radio. But that wasn’t possible, and well, that was probably for the better because Charles wasn’t so sure how he would react to hearing your voice during the race.

Yet, the idea of you being in the circuit for one of the few races of the season you could come to was helpful. Sure, Charles never relied only on your presence here to do great results. But he would be lying if he said it was a plus to know that somewhere, you were there looking for him.

And that when he would win, you would be around to celebrate it with him.

The thing was, being such a massively appreciated driver, Charles didn’t really find the time to celebrate with you before going on the podium. All the mechanics ran to him; his teammate chatted with him until they both went to the podium.

Some may have noticed he frowned during the anthem, just for one millisecond.

Because there was one thing Charles was good at.

It was finding you in a crowd of thousands of people.

His hand was still on his heart while singing the anthem with everyone. Something you were doing too. But Charles never stopped looking at you. You were his anchor.

When the anthem stopped, the applause started. Charles knew he had a window of only a few seconds to do what he wanted. And he took it.

“I love you,” he mouthed with a big smile on his face. You could see him on the screen. And so did the world. But it didn’t matter.

Because this was one of his favorite moments. How the world seemed to stop. It was only you and him.

And if Charles couldn’t really see it, he knew that you said it back. He could tell. Each one of your I love you's always went directly to his heart. And it never missed its shot. This one didn’t either.

Like in the end, your love was always meant to be directed to him in the first place. Just his was to you too.

4. The trend

You weren’t the biggest fan of the “wag” thing. Sure, you were one. That was undeniable at that point. But since you started dating Charles before he was an F1 driver, you sometimes had a difficult time getting used to being treated like one.

The photographers who were running to get a picture of you when you arrived at the circuit, the fans asking for selfies, the edit made of you and Charles together. And that was without talking about all the comments and remarks, positive and negative, made about you.

So most of the time, you were putting social media aside and trying to forget the world knew about you because of your couple.

But sometimes, you can't escape them. Especially when the trend was fun and you had a good time looking at it.

“Did you know we were compatible on so many levels?” you asked Charles from the bedroom.

You were lying on your bed, wearing a too-big Ferrari merch shirt from last year that was perfect to chill—and to flirt with Charles, who could resist you even less when you were wearing his color.

You looked up and laughed when he passed only his face through the bathroom door, his toothbrush still in his mouth. “What did you mean?” he mumbled. But he was quick to rush to the sink to rinse his mouth.

So you waited until he sat back next to you, his head on your shoulder, to look at your phone to give him an explanation.

“The fans,” you started again, a hand falling on his naked thighs to caress his skin, “they used a trend that’s going on right now about showing how people are compatible on different levels.”

You put on a video that you saw earlier about you two. Charles watched as he saw what the fans used to prove you two were made to be together. Your astrological signs, your birth date, similar features you shared, a beauty mark you shared that you had no idea how people noticed in the first place. Some were funny; others were more serious.

But the global idea was that the whole world was convinced Charles and you were made to be together.

One video even called you soulmate.

“At this point, I’m pretty sure we can’t break up or the universe will explode.” You laughed, watching yet another video about that.

But Charles was only looking at you.

He was pretty sure that his universe would explode if he ever lost you.

5. The flirt

“Charles, I need you to meet someone!” he heard his agent say.

To say that Charles wasn’t that pleased to be at this party was an understatement. The season was more tiring, and he couldn’t wish for anything less than just a night of peace in his hotel room. He felt like everyone around here wanted a piece of him, and he couldn’t keep enough energy to have a chat with you these days.

He loved his job; he loved this championship, but how he wanted a break from all of this.

Yet, Charles kept a smile on his face when he turned around and saw the person his agent wanted him to meet so badly. He recognized her from god knows which campaign his sponsor did these past weeks. She was a model.

“Nice to meet you,” he said in a very polite tone. He offered his hand, trying to keep some distance. Sadly, Charles knew that each one of his movements was analyzed, and he didn’t want to do anything that would make you uncomfortable.

He hated the moment when you weren’t there and haters started to think it was some proof you weren’t a thing anymore. Because as soon as he was pictured with anybody, especially women, they would become some love interest in a story that didn’t exist.

It turned out it was Charles who was soon uncomfortable when the model kept his hand in hers and started to caress it. “It’s a real pleasure,” she whispered, like it was a secret.

But he didn’t want to share a secret with anyone but you.

When he moved his hand to get it free, the model groaned. Charles didn’t get it, because it would have been a very inappropriate reaction for simply releasing his hand. But then he noticed how she was rubbing her palm. “You pinched my skin with your ring.”

He looked down at his hand. And couldn’t contain the smile when he realized it wasn’t any ring that hurt her by accident.

It was the one you offered him for your anniversary, a month ago. The last time you talked about getting engaged, you both agreed that this was too soon and you would rather wait for him to achieve his dream. So the whole wedding organization wouldn’t be impacted by the craziness of the season.

“I can marry you at 20, 30, 50, or 70; I don’t care, Charles. As long as I have you in my life forever.” You told him when you discussed it.

Yet, you loved the idea of him wearing a ring that proved he was yours. And he couldn’t blame you since he did it multiple times in the past already, always happy to spend his money on his love for you.

“Sorry,” he said in a hurry, already taking his phone in his hand to send you a text.

Right when he sent you a “I won’t believe what just happened.” He received a “I hope your party is going well!”

You were there. All the time. Even when you weren’t.

“Un discours, un discours!” You heard everyone sing in the room, asking your boyfriend to finally make the speech he promised he would do but still hasn’t.

You turned around to see him and watched as his cheeks turned a beautiful and very red color—how appropriate to celebrate his title with Ferrari. You put your hand on his shoulder to lean closer to him and couldn’t resist kissing his cheek, adding a new tint of red to it. But mostly, as you expected, to see him chill at your touch.

“Go ahead, mon amour; they are waiting for you.” You told him, still bringing your thumb to his skin to wipe away your lipstick. You loved teasing him, but you still weren’t the mark-your-territory type of girlfriend. “You won the championship; I’m sure you can make this speech.”

“You better be right on this one,” he laughed, still not sure he could do it. Especially not after the multiple champagne glasses he drank tonight.

But still, Charles got up, smoothed his shirt, and put a kiss in your hair before walking to the center of the room. He gave his mother a genuine smile, but his eyes fell on you one last time. It was like the kiss you blew him at that moment went straight to his heart from the way he sighed and finally turned to his guests.

“We fucking did it, guys!” Charles said loudly in the microphone, causing everyone to scream and applaud at the memory that yes, finally, il predestinato gave Ferrari its title.

And so Charles started to thank everyone in the team, making sure to not forget a single person. Making sure everyone in this room knew how grateful he was that he had been so well looked after this past year. You watched as he took the time to look at the person he said the name to every time and how he was taking the time to say a nice word about them.

You feel the tears growing in your eyes when he talks about his family. Reminding him of the old days back in Monaco and how far he had come to achieve his dream.

And then you heard your name.

“And you,” he started, landing his eyes on you. He waited a second, making sure he wasn’t the only one looking at you. Making sure the whole room knew who you were—even if it had become almost impossible for them to ignore you. “I would have never, ever, done half of this without you. Having you by my side all these years and these past months has been the biggest encouragement. I love you, mon amour.”

Everyone got up and started to applaud, you included. Because of this, most of them didn’t notice Charles open his mouth again. They missed the smile on his face, all the love that came from it, or the look he was giving you at that moment. And mostly, they missed the last sentence of his speech.

Or maybe that was his plan from the beginning.

“You’re my soulmate.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc story #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 story #f1 angst #my writing #2k celebration

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madame-nightshade · 1 month ago

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Lilia Vanrouge X Eclipsa Butterfly! Reader

SPOILER WARNING FOR BOOK 7

READER IS GN BUT IS SLIGHTLY DESCRIBED AS A FEMALE (I think)

NOT EDITED AND NOT SO GOOD GRAMMAR

Sneaking off with the General of Faes, the right-hand man of the princess of Fae kind was something that shouldn't be done by a queen of the opposing team.

And yet you had no reason to care anymore.

You met Lilia while he was injured in the human territory while you were out for a stroll. Due to the absolute kindness of your heart, you decided to help the poor man not yet knowing he was a general—not just a General, THE General of Briar Valley. You removed him of his strange armor and started to clean his wounds, some of which looked like the man was burned in some spots. You currently had him in your personal room. Your arranged Fiancé, Hendrick, and you both slept in different rooms, it was mainly due to the fact that you couldn't love such a horrible monster like him and due to the fact it was against your will to combine Kingdoms since his sister was already wed off to the stunning Dawn Knight, whom the Queen adored with all her heart. It's not like you could leave the marriage, you really wanted to, but Hendrick threated you with initiating war with your Kingdom and his, killing you first.

You sat on a bay window and read while the unconscious man rested in your bed. Of course, you knew he happened to be fae, those pointy ears weren't very common in humans other than a half fae and half human, but those individuals were very hard to come across from. You remember that your mother, a fae slayer, had always put it into your mind that all fae were out to kill and harm any humans they could find no matter if they committed sin or stayed as pure as a white rose. Even still, you found this fae's presence to be soothing, much more soothing than that big tub of lard you were forced to be wed to. You sigh and keep your umbrella wand, a magical item belonging to your family for generations at this point, just in case if the man were to wake up and attack.

For hours, you sat back in your window and finally managed to finish the book that Queen Leah lent to you about a few weeks ago. As the sun set, the man from the bed began to rise from the warmth of your sheets. You looked over as he groaned and rubbed his aching head, slowly making your way over as to not scare him too much.

"Ugh… Where…?" He began to question until his eyes finally landed on you, "Who… Who are you?! How dare you bring me here?!" He shouted and snarled at you, to which you only smiled. He tried to reach around him for something, only for him to look over and see the green-axe-looking thing on a wall on the other side of your room.

"Oh? That? Is that what you're looking for?" You asked and smiled at him, the pretty little spades on your cheek rising as your smile did. The man looked so tense that it was funny to you, "Yes… That was very hard to carry along with yourself. I wonder how often you carry that around."

"Where am I?" He asked once more.

"You're in my personal chambers." You hummed and sat near him, your umbrella ready for anything to happen, "I am Queen (Yuu/MC) Butterfly… Well, I'm married to Hendrick, so I suppose that should change…" You sighed while the man with very long hair shot a glare at you.

"You're that big barrel's wife?!" He shouted, "Are you going to take me to your beloved as an act of kindness in return for a nice night in bed?!" His voice was stern and accusatory. You gasped and gave an offended look.

"Is that how you speak to a lady?" You huffed and chuckled, "And to a Queen, no less…" You hummed and finally looked into his eyes. Something felt off when you both finally looked at each other, and it was obvious that you both felt it. Everything suddenly felt lighter and more safe with just the two of you, but overall, the most noticeable thing was the fact that it looked like everything was being viewed through rose colored glasses. When you both finally snapped out of it, you coughed.

"Are you hungry…?"

"…You're going to poison me, aren't you, disgusting human." He spat back.

"I'll just give you one of my favorite candy bars then…" You sighed and handed him a chocolate bar. The man hesitantly took the bar and started to eat it, satisfied with the taste and satisfying crunch of the bar. Although, he didn't wish to show a lowly human that he was being weak at this moment, but it seemed too late already due to the fact that she was smiling at him.

The first time you met Lilia Vanrouge, you knew it would cost you your downfall,

Though, you still didn't care.

After that first meeting, neither of you could stop seeing each other. Something kept you both from finally parting paths, like a tight rope was keeping you bound to each other. Lilia often said it was because your spells were useful, your 'All-Seeing Eye' spell is one he loved you to use to figure out the Silver Owls next moves so he could plan appropriately. You could see right through him, even with his stupid smirks and sung grins, you knew he came to see you, which seemed very out of his character, he blamed your closeness on the fact that you both have a shared hatred with your arranged husband. You would always smile at him with a small laugh in your voice, always saying you enjoyed his company. He hated it. He hated how you made his heart flutter.

As of now, you both are in your exclusive garden and you're trying to perform the 'All-Seeing Eye' spell that Lilia has deemed as the most useful one you have.

"I summon the All-Seeing Eye to tear a hole into the sky reveal to me that which is hidden, unveil to me what is forbidden." You whispered and pointed your now open umbrella about 90 degrees above your shoulder, and the eye finally appeared. Lilia sat and watched what the eye was showing, staying quiet since he knew you had to focus to be able to cast this spell perfectly since it was one of the newer ones you made. Once Lilia had his fill on information on the Silver Owls, he tapped your shoulder to let you know he was finished.

"Oh dear…" You sighed and put your wand down, sitting on the perfectly green grass with a small grunt of exhausting. Lilia sunk down next to you and rubbed your back, but at a distance.

"Are you alright? Do you need medical assistance? Are you tired? What troubles you human?" He started asking so many questions, almost sounding worried.

"Awe, are you worried about me, sweetie?" You asked before scooting closer and leaning on him with your eyes closed. You were a bold human, and yet he didn't seem to mind it. He… Adored your bold personality. "I'm okay." You responded after a few minutes of quiet, "A lot of newer spell takes a lot of energy out of me. And it only makes my fatigue worse doing it over and over again back-to-back." You half tease the fae who is tense as you lay on his shoulder. He sighed at you and pulled you closer, which you didn't expect. You blinked at him for a moment before smiling and leaning your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes, letting the smell of your garden relax your mind and body. The sun on your skin felt amazing while your umbrella-like wand kept Lilia shaded since you knew that he got very lightheaded during the day, the sun only made it so much worse.

"I have to go soon," He hummed and shrugged the shoulder you were laying on, "Won't someone come check on you here?" He asked as he tried to get you off of his shoulder. You whine and fall onto his lap and looked up at him.

"The guards or Hendrick won't come looking for me. They call me 'evil' for all the spells that I've put into my book!" You huffed and looked up at him.

"Evil?" He laughed; how could someone find you evil? Sure, you're very powerful with your magic and are the only one on this human land that still practices it, but you haven't harmed anyone at all. Lilia looked down with a small, playful smirk, "That's silly, you're more… Soft than anything." He hummed and kept you close, enjoying the feeling of you laying on his lap for some reason. It was only because of the breeze, nothing else he could reason with besides that.

"Well, my spells seem evil to other people, so I guess they're frightened with me. It works out though, I enjoy being by myself a lot." You smiled and looked at him, tugging the red color on his bangs. He rolled his eyes and snarled a bit, swatting you hand away and forced you to sit up off of him. He stood up and stood you up too, making sure you looked at him.

"Seriously, I have to go now." He spoke firmly, holding your elbows.

"I suppose it's time for me to head in before someone spreads a rumor saying I'm raising the dead next." You chuckled while he rolled his eyes a bit with a smile. You both stood there for a moment, just staring and smiling. Lilia sighed after a few minutes and held a gloved hand to your pretty spaded cheek, rubbing the dark maroon colored cheek mark as you leaned into it with a small smile, it was slightly smug, but it still held affection.

"Must you be so… Irritating…?" Lilia sighed as he pinched your cheek with a huff. You swat his hand with a laugh, to which he responded with another huff and sigh. The feeling he felt in his chest was weird to him, no way he could be falling for someone on the opposing team, someone who he had met only a few weeks ago. Though, something kept him tied to you, like he couldn't get enough of simply being near you. he had to admit, asking you for intel on your betrothed and his troops was simply and excuse to be near you.

"You seem to be lost in thought, mind letting me into that brain of yours?" You asked with a smile. Lilia shivered knowing you could be in his mind at any time without him even thinking about it. He found it creepy, but exciting at the same exact time. He sighed and figured that he should just explain what he was thinking.

"You… I hate how you, a simple, human, make me feel weak." He huffed at you, pinching your cheek once more. You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. Lilia lightly held onto your sides and sighed. You both looked at each other for a little bit, it felt like forever before you both leaned closer and sealed the deal to both of your greatest sins.

That's when all the sneaking started

Lilia was off duty for a day, he briefly explained that he was harmed by an iron trap set by one of Hendrick's troops, the princess gave him enough pity to let him heal for the day. Though, instead of healing, he decided to spend the day with you, his own form of healing. Lilia waited for you in your garden, looking at the exhausting sun finally bidding good night.

"Boo!" You held onto his shoulders as you hopped onto his back while you laughed. He sighed and rolled his eyes, he wasn't really surprised at all, nor was he frightened. He held onto the back of your legs and made sure you stayed on his back. He looked over to his right as you placed your head on his shoulder with a pout, "Nothing? Really? I was sure I got you this time…" You sighed and dug your face into his neck before biting it. Lilia sighed and rolled his eyes once more.

"You really think that would get me? A war general? Come on now, dearest." He chuckled, turning his head a bit more to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, enjoying the way your adorable spades light up a light pink while you smiled. Lilia had a date planned for you, but wouldn't explain where it was, or what he had planned for when you both got there.

He carried you there, not minding the fact that he was still a bit hurt at all (much to your protest). You sighed at the fact that he wouldn't let you down, but didn't protest in fear he'd drop you right onto the floor just to teach you a lesson. After a while, Lilia comes to a stop and sets you down gently on your feet. It was a clearing in the woods, away from any Silver Owls, or any Fae watch groups. Lilia had set up a little picnic for the both of you, and gosh it was beautiful. You stood with your umbrella wand almost falling out of your hand, it was beautiful compared to the war going on at the very moment.

"Oh, Darling…" You looked at the river streaming by as it reflected the light that was being casted down by the moon, though, the moon tonight seemed to be a crescent and much more of a blood red color, but it was much more lovely than normal to you.

"It isn't much, I know… But I figured you could use a break, as do I." He mumbled and cupped your face, his other hand moving to your waist as he started to gently sway with you. The swaying gently began to turn into a lovely waltz under the crimson moon. You smiled and moved his hand off your face so you could hold his gloved hand with your glove covered one.

"Your earrings match the moon tonight, dearest." He commented and continued the dance until it seemed like the crimson color disappeared.

"Thank you!" You smiled a bit more and leaned into him, happy he noticed, "They're new!" He hummed and nodded with a slight smile tugging his lips as he led you down to sit on the blanketed floor, there was a little basket with some… Questionable items that he brought inside of it.

"Um… Lilia, what is this…?" You asked, holding up something that looked to be burnt to a crisp.

"A frog. You have to cook it very well to a crisp since it's a poisonous one, but it's still edible." He hummed. You huffed and sighed, you stood up and opened your wand and pointed it at the sky, casting your 'All-Seeing Eye' spell. Lilia looked very confused at the fact you were casting the spell at this time.

"Dear-"

"Shh." You instantly quieted him down so you could focus. Soon, the image of your arranged husband came up, and he was gorging himself with food. Lilia cringed with pure disgust at the sickening sight, he was confused on why you would be trying to spy on your husband eating like the disgusting pig he is. That was until you took a deep breath and reached out a hand to the portal with the eye. He stayed still and stayed quiet as you touched the portal, your cheeks glowing along with your eyes as your hand stretched the portal. While the man was closing eyes in gluttonous bliss, you managed to grab some of his food from the table it was resting on and take it out from the portal without even being noticed. Lilia huffed at you.

"Was my cooking not good for you?"

"Sweetie, I would have chipped a tooth eating what you made. I love you, but not your cooking." You laughed and placed some of the delicious smelling food onto the blanket as you both decided to watch the disgusting man in the Seeing Eye eat himself into a food coma, laughing as you both watched servants come up quick to check if he was still alive and hadn't suffered a heart attack.

Hours pass and it's about time that you both need to leave before people start to get suspicious, especially those stupid humans that thought you were going off to cast spells to harm Hendrick. Lilia dug his face into your neck and took in the smell of you, like it was the last thing he would ever get from you. He relaxed when you held him tight, running your gloved fingers through his ponytail, caressing the red in his hair.

"Oh! I forgot, I have something for you!" You pulled back with a smile, you reached into the pocket of your dress and pulled out a little gift box, "Open it!" You encouraged as he hesitantly untied the red ribbon. Inside, was a lovely ring, it had bats and spades engraved in it. It was truly beautiful.

"My dear…" Lilia mumbled and looked at the ring as you started to speak again.

"I have one too," You pulled it out from the front of your dress, you were wearing it as a necklace instead of on your finger. You moved it closer to the one Lilia had, and they both began to glow a soft purple shade, "I made them, so we'll know when we're close to each other, so we will always fine one another." You softly spoke, "Just in case anything happened." You mumbled and put it back into its hiding spot.

Lilia smiled, "I love it." He mumbled and pulled you closer so he could kiss you. This kiss was full of longing and love, you both stayed like that for a while before pulling back and parting ways, the rings slowly dimming the further you got. All Lilia could think was what you said, even after you both had parted ways.

You had made those rings incase anything were to happen to either of you.

He didn't like the feeling he got from thinking about your words, not at all.

Weeks pass by and he tried to find you, but he couldn't. Any sign, the slightest smell of you, it was all gone. Lilia was panicking, but he also had a job to do that he took seriously. You never showed back up in your garden, the place you cherished the most, the place you both loved and held so close to your hearts, you weren't there. Lilia longed for your presence, but he didn't let that falter his performance. Not one bit. No matter how much it hurt when he figured out what happened to you.

"KING HENDRICK'S WIFE CHARGED WITH TREASON,

QUEEN BANISHED INTO A CRYSTAL."

He found a flying poster he thought was human litter, but the picture drawn of his beloved in a crystal made his heart sink. Did you know that this would happen? Why didn't you tell him? His questions would have been unanswered for over 300 years.

In that time, he's watched his life crumble and then rebuild. He hatched the heir to the Draconia throne, adopted a human boy, trained his old friends' grandson, went to Night Raven College… All the while, he was still thinking about you. You've never left his mind no matter how hard he tried, you always made your way into his dreams, and they felt real. Your lips on his, your hands caressing his face and running through his hair while he laid his head on your lap all felt like reality to him, only to wake up empty in his bed after a night of hardcore gaming, cold and alone.

The magicless Perfect that came to the NRC was a shocker to him, after all these years something managed to fill him with wonder. But what really filled him with wonder, was the fact that when the Headmage sent you, a small little Direbeast, and two first years into the mine for whatever reason, but they swore up and down that they managed to get a look at a large crystal with a woman inside. Lilia wouldn't have let his curiosity get to him if they hadn't mentioned the fact that the woman had little spades on her cheeks.

Here he was now, in the mines, looking for what could possibly be the best thing to have ever happened to him. He would gain back something he lost years ago. The more he moved into the dark mine, the more that he seemed to spot a familiar purple glow in the distance. The ring he's worn for years now finally glowing the same purple light. His breath hitched as a large grin came to his face, he started to dart to where the light was coming from. He went deeper and deeper into the mine, the thoughts of his love consumed his aching mind and seemed like a balm that relaxed it. The glow got brighter and brighter until he was met with your beautiful unblinking eyes.

The purple was bright coming from your chest, your umbrella in your right hand as you stared forward with the slight smile you always had, your hat created a bit of a shadow that framed your face so perfectly to him. Lilia got closer and the purple glow of the rings began to fade. He placed his hand on the glass with a smile as tears formed in his eyes.

"Hello, my love, welcome home…"

And just like that, the crystal began to crack.

I've never posted on here before, (probably never will again) but this fic is for @minciel93 for giving me the motivation to re-write this lol, sorry if it sucked, I've been sick =P

#lilia vanrouge x reader #twst x reader #x Reader #i havent written for twst yet at all #Lilia Vanrouge #General Lilia #Fanfic #general lilia vanrouge #twst #twst fic #twisted wonderland x reader

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bestnottoask · 1 year ago

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Falling For You?

{Masterlist}

Pairing- Draco Malfoy x Fem Potter Reader

Request- No

Summary - You’re starting to notice a change in Draco Malfoy’s behavior which is strange because ever since day one he has had it out for you and your twin brother Harry. What will happen when you are hurt badly during a quidditch match causing you to fall from a fatal height? This takes place in the 5th year. No use of Y/N.

Genre- Angst, Fluff

Warnings - Blood, Angst, Potential enemies to lovers? multiple Pov, swearing, mentions of nausea, fainting, violence, physical fighting, I think that's it,

●Ambiguous Ending

A/N - This is my first ever fic, so I hope you enjoy it. Sorry I haven’t posted much life has just gotten a bit out of hand recently, but I have managed to produce this and its finally time to share it! so enjoy.

Word count - 5.7k

Growing up without parents and living with your abusive Aunt and Uncle with their Spoilt Brat for a kid wasn’t easy; and you honestly didn’t think you would have survived without your twin brother. For the longest time you too were inseparable. You were each other’s only family left. And that’s why you were crushed with guilt every time you look at those shining grey eyes.

It was no secret that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were enemies. Most people despised Malfoy due to his cruel demeanor and outdated world views, where he saw himself on some pedestal above everyone else; which he would reticule you from if you dare thought otherwise. Of course you were one of the people who disliked him. How could you not be?

You’d just wish your heart would listen to your brain when thought of him. He was a cruel person who found fun in making other people’s lives difficult, especially you and your friends. So why did you find your eyes lingering on him for a second too long? Looking around the great hall at dinner just to get a glimpse of him. It wasn’t right, and you knew it. But it didn’t help that he had really grown into his looks and gotten a lot taller over the summer break. And while there is an undouble rivalry between Malfoy and both Potter twins since the first year, you couldn’t help but notice that Malfoy had become slightly more tolerable lately. He would make less snarky and unnecessary comments, start less arguments and not take the arguments that he did start as far as he used to. Was he getting tired of it? Or was he maybe he was finally maturing. Either way, you were grateful for it as you have been seated next to him for potions until the end of the year, courtesy of Snape’s seating plan.

In fact, you had noticed that ever since you had been seated next to him at the beginning of the year, he was slowly becoming more tolerable, and you were becoming less annoyed by his presence.

You had explained your thoughts to Hermione stating that maybe he was ‘growing on you’ but she just replied saying that it was more likely that he was just ‘wearing you down’, to which you chuckled along with.

For a while now, more times than you’d like to admit was spent dwelling on your changing feelings for him. A part of you hoped that he was perhaps changing and that maybe it could lead to something between the two of you. You had to admit he was funny at times and had slipped up and shown you a different side of him before. Only in subtle ways like picking something you’d dropped on the floor and handing it to you without any snarky comment or passing you something you were looking for. If anyone else did this, you wouldn’t think twice about it. But it wasn’t anyone. It was Draco Malfoy.

You were pulled out of your own thoughts by Ron leaning upwards to look over you and your brothers head to see the Slytherin table

“Can’t wait to wipe that that stupid smug smirk off of Draco’s face” Ron said through gritted teeth as he began to sit back down still keeping an eye on the Slytherin table behind you where Draco sat in his quidditch uniform talking with his teammates.

“He’s been extra cocky today about winning this match” Ron grumbled as he turned to the food in front of him.

“Tell me about it” Harry sarcastically sighed “I had to deal with him and Blaise all of first period” Harry grumbled. You peered over your shoulder to see the loud commotion happening behind you, which mainly consisted of the Slytherin quidditch team chanting about them winning the upcoming match. It didn’t take a genius to tell they were overly confident.

“No worries, we’ve trained for this,” you said turning back to the table and rolling up your sleeves. As much as you like your quidditch uniform its arm sleeve length got in the way when you were trying to eat.

“One more hour until we can destroy them!” Ron said with a laugh to which Harry returned with a grin.

“You both are so competitive” Hermione chimed in as she rolled her eyes before looking back at the book in her hands.

“It’s almost concerning” you chuckled in agreement.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to see them lose” Ron replied with a tone making it sound like he was defending himself.

“I want to see us win” you explained.

“How’s that any different?” Ron questioned with a mouth full of food and a raised brow.

“Because she’s finding pleasure in her achievements rather than others loses” Hermione said firmly closing and placing her book on the table, to which Ron replied with another eye roll.

“Yeah, but it Slytherin” Harry said as if he was to be proving some point, but you and Hermione looked at each other then back towards him as he missed the point all together.

“So?” you replied.

“So, I guess it’s alright to be happy when they lose” Harry said with uncertainty in his voice because as he was saying it out loud, he was beginning to hear how he may be in the wrong.

“Don’t get me wrong I want us to win, but I think you two are a bit too hateful towards Slytherin. I mean sometimes you both say something I’d expect a Slytherin to say about a Gryffindor. Which is definitely not a good look”. You explained, hoping to talk some sense into them so try and defuse the rising tension between the house that always comes before a big quidditch match. Harry and Ron didn’t reply, they just shared a look between them realizing that you may have a point; as they do get quite competitive.

The conversation quickly changed as Oliver Wood appeared and made the team gather around and talk strategy.

You wouldn’t call yourself a confident person, but usually before a quidditch you would feel fine. Prepared. You were a strong player, and everyone knew it. However, today you weren’t feeling as prepared as you normally are, and you were unsure as to why. You just had a bad feeling about the match.

As you walked out onto the field with your team, broom in hand, the icy wind almost imminently pricked at your skin. You looked up and saw that the sky had been painted with all different shades of grey clouds, indicating an upcoming storm.

Everyone took their positions on the field and as you did you saw some of the Slytherin boys whisper something to each other while looking over at you and some of your teammates. This made you feel even more uneasy, and you tried to shake it off, but it kept dwelling on you that something was going to go wrong.

The game began and everything went as expected aside from Slytherin taking the lead by a few points but nothing that couldn’t be overturned by the end of the game. It soon started to lightly rain, a sprinkle of water coating the stadium, making it a bit harder to see since the wind was moving the rain into your eyes.

As the score got closer everyone understandably got more competitive and began to push the boundaries a tad, such as shoving someone a little harder than what is normally allowed during a match, but no student would ever report this to a teacher. It was like an unspoken rule that when the game got close the so could the players.

You had flown to the side of the field after successfully passing the quaffle over to Oliver while avoiding being knocked off your broom. Oliver had managed to gain Gryffindor points with the quaffle pushing the score so that Gryffindor was now ahead of Slytherin. This did not sit well with the two Slytherins that were on your back trying to prevent you from passing the quaffle over to Oliver just moments ago.

One of them was Marcus Flint. And although you couldn’t see the glare, he gave you from behind, you could almost feel it. Only a minute or two later something sharp caught the corner of your eye. You looked over to your right, but it had disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. You had shrugged it off and continued to play the game but was shortly interrupted by a small, very bright blue flash across the field. You flew up high staring wide-eyed trying to find it again eyes scanning everywhere, hoping someone else had also seen it and that you weren’t going crazy. But you didn’t have much time to ponder as soon the bright light was headed straight towards you once again. You instantly flew away, occasionally checking behind you to see if it was still on your trail. Adrenaline coursed through your body as you flew at full speed before slowing down once you realized that it was no longer behind you.

Shocked from the surprise of it all, you weren’t paying attention until you heard what sounded like distressed arguing. You saw Fred and Seamus from afar, you squinted trying to figure out what they were doing as it looked like they were either arguing or very worried. You began to make you way over there ignoring your surroundings, heading straight towards them, but before you could make it there someone came out of nowhere and sped past you, nearly knocking you off your broom. It was unlike anyone to race that fast at someone during the match so high off the ground even with the unspoken rule. You continued forward when once again someone flew right in front of you. You suddenly came to a halt and spun your head around to see what was happening behind you. You could feel the cold, icy air prick at your skin and make your nose pink and sore. Your hair was blowing rapidly in the wind, impairing your vision. You looked over and saw Ron from afar clutching his upper left arm with Oliver beside him. As you were about to fly over to them to make sure Ron was alright, when something sped past you, hitting you on the right side of your head.

It knocked you hard, causing you to face forward again and even jolt a little bit on your broom. You were still able to maintain a steady grip with both hands on her broom; but that was quickly forgotten about when you began to feel a wave of nausea and dizziness. It quickly became a struggle to focus on anything, the world felt like it was spinning and your whole body felt numb aside from a slight tingle.

But the numbness didn’t last long as soon a strong burning sensation formed above your right eyebrow. Still accompanied by the nausea, after only a few seconds you felt something wet run down the right side of your face. But this wasn’t the cold rain that was pouring all around you. This was warm and running fast.

You slowly brought your hand up to the source of the pain and brought it back down only to find it covered in a bright red liquid. As if on cue, your hearing began to fade and soon you couldn’t hear anything around you; not your teammates, not the crowd, or even the cold wind that had been floating around all week. The only thing you could hear was your own racing heart. Your breaths were slow and deep as you tried to stay conscious, while your heartbeat was as fast as ever. The rain that was already trickling down you only helped spread blood down your face beginning to cover your quidditch uniform.

Only a few seconds prior, Hermione had noticed the small flash fly across the field once again, but this time it went towards you, and seemingly hit you before you could see it coming. Hermione jumped out of her seat the second she saw you get hit. She was squinting her eyes and leaning ever so slightly over the banister trying to see what happened. Neville was quickly by her side using his binoculars to try to see what was happening. Hermione glances to her side at Nevilles binoculars and quickly snatches the binoculars from Nevilles grasp and places them before her eyes. Completely ignoring the fact that they were strapped around his neck, and he was now uncomfortably pulled into her personal space. Hermione saw your face slowly turn red, and she imminently dropped the binoculars, allowing Neville to stand up straight once more. “Oh Merlin” she whispered to herself, but loud enough for Neville and Luna who had also joined her side to hear and it, make them both look at her, unsure of what she saw.

Unaware as to what everyone else was facing, Harry was speeding along the perimeter of the field, not far from the ground with Draco to his Left. Their knees collided and both of their gazes were strongly focused on the small golden snitch flying not far in front of them. The light rain and the air resistant due to their fast speed was causing them both slightly to squint into order to see. They both would push against each other with their shoulders in hopes that the other would fall off course. Their hair flew rapidly behind them as they tilted their heads forward, both trying to increase their speed. However, Draco’s gaze shifted to the stadium when he heard some loud yelling. But it wasn’t the normal yelling that happened during a quidditch match. This sounded like panic. He couldn’t make out what was being said but when he looked above Harry as he saw the Gryffindor podiums crowds’ gazes fixated on something behind and above him; and judging by their expression and stances with their arms pointing at whatever was causing the commotion, it wasn’t good. Draco only heard the yelling because he and Harry were flying right beside the crowd, however, Harry seemed to be too focused on the snitch flying just out of his reach to take interest in the sound. Draco turned his head to his left and after a quick scan of the field and the people on it, he saw what the commotion was about.

Draco’s shoulder sunk and his eyes were wide fixated on the image in the distance. He wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real. He saw you on your broom way up in the air. But you weren’t flying around. Instead, you sat up on your broom with only one hand gripping the broomstick. Your opposing hand was held to the side of your head, the palm painted red. His stomach dropped when he saw her face. Blood was pouring down the right side of it, covering the dazed expression. You were looking slightly over your right shoulder, towards the Gryffindor podium and crowd, which he was under. That’s probably why he heard them yelling. They got the best view of what had happened and started to panic.

You felt a light head, and suddenly the overwhelming burning pain didn’t matter anymore. The frequency of your blinks increased significantly, as you tried to stay awake. You could taste the rain as your mouth hung open, desperately trying to take deeper breaths. But soon you realized that it was no good. Black dots began to appear, and you felt yourself falling. The last thing you saw was your broom only a few feet above you.

Draco eye widened and he was quickly filled to the brim with panic, as he saw your figure in the distance go limp and fall to the side, beginning to make its way to the ground. Within less than a second of your body falling, Draco’s broomstick was pointed your way and just as before he was tilting his head and body forward increasing his speed. His gaze was focused the unconscious body in a bright red and gold Gryffindor uniform; and just like for you before, everything around him was a blur and he could only hear clouded muffles of what he would assume is the crowd being loud as per usual; not that he gave any thought to it, he didn’t care, in fact it seemed as if for the first time in his life he didn’t care about anything else; he was only focused on getting to you on time.

Harry noticed Draco’s absence when he went to make a quick glance between him and the golden snitch. But as Harry noticed he was no longer next to him he was quick to notice a Slytherin uniform blowing in the wind flying away from him. Harry slowed his chase after the snitch and took notice of what Draco was chasing after. Rather than who he was chasing after, Panic swept through the boy as he was quick to follow Draco’s path, but Draco was significantly ahead of him.

Flying through the rain at such a speed made the rain drops feel as if ice was pinching at Draco’s pale skin, but nether the less Draco was able to catch Potter’s limp body before you went crashing onto the ground. He held a tight grip, but the impact of catching you and trying to hold you on his broomstick made him lose control of his broom and he began to make his way to the ground. He was able to pull his broom upwards right before he collided with the ground, softening the fall for both students. Once you both hit the ground, Draco was thrown over you and landed roughly 5 meters in front of her. You were laying half on your stomach and half on your right side on the soft, wet grass. Your hair which you had freshly washed this morning, was scattered over your face, absorbing blood from the small pool that was forming under your rested head. Draco on the other hand found himself fully on his stomach with his head facing to his left, with his left shoulder taking most of the impact. Both uniforms were muddy and blowing slightly in the wind as they lay there on the wet grass.

It didn’t take long for both teams to make their way to the scene, Oliver arriving first with Ron by his side clutching his upper left arm. They both kneeled by your side; Oliver gently pulling you onto your back, revealing what was once clear skin framing a soft smile, but was now a blood-covered face decorated with scratches. Oliver and Ron are both taken back by the sight, eyes scanning over the injury on your head. But before Oliver could even think of what to do next the whole Gryffindor quidditch team had made their way over and began crowding around them. Harry arrives at the scene and stumbles off his broom running and forcefully pushing his way through his teammates, only coming to a small stop when he finally sees his blooded-up sister on the floor; half her face covered in blood with her hair stuck in it, and the parts of her face that somehow weren’t bloody, were pale and lifeless. Before anyone could say anything to him, he was on his knees next to her, with tear-filled eyes and his hands clasping over her forehead in an attempt to try and stop the bleeding. He tried to reach for his wand to use a healing spell but cursed under his breath as he moved his hand back to your head after feeling his empty pocket. A reminder of the rule stating that no personal magical objects can be found or used by any player during a match.

Draco was woken by his teammates pulling him up to his knees after he was briefly knocked out from the impact with the ground, and he was very winded; but he didn’t even assess or take note of the damage done to himself before he began carefully making his way up to the small crowd of both Gryffindor and Slytherin quidditch players, trying to peek through. By the time he made it through the crowd, he only got a glimpse before he spun his head around at the sound of an angry professor storming over to the scene.

“Move aside!” Professor Snape called out while waving his arms out to push anyone out of his way. He was followed by Professor McGonigal who had her hands holding up her robes so she could hurry over. Behind her were Hermione, Luna, Nevile and a hand full of other people with worried expressions written all over their faces. Everyone stepped aside to let the professors in. Harry looked up at them with tear-soaked eyes, his hands were on his twin sister’s face; one on her cut and the other on her jawline, holding her face. For a second Harry could have sworn he saw Professor Snape’s eyes widen with concern. Within a second Snape was by Harrys side, he pulled out his wand and softly murmured a healing spell causing the slash on her forehead to slowly heal over. Professor McGonigal began questioning the students around her about what had caused this incident, but her tone made the questions sound like accusations. Relief filled Harrys body and he let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His sobs calmed down and he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked over and it was Hermione who gave him a reassuring smile; telling him it would be alright. Draco also felt a gush of relief wash over him, and unfortunately for him, it didn’t go unnoticed. Hermione gave him a questioning look as she saw the relief on his face when he saw that her dear friend way going to be alright. Draco noticed Hermione’s stare when he made eye contact with her. Panic boiled within him at being caught and his cheeks blushed a little from embarrassment and he immediately looked away and avoided her gaze, staring at the grass below him acting as if he didn’t care.

Harry returned his gaze to his sister who was being picked up by Snape. Snape was now standing up holding your still unconscious body in his arms.

“I suggest you follow me to the infirmary Wesley” Snape suggested, referring to the fact Ron was clutching his upper left arm with a little bit of blood seeping out of it.

“You got hit?! Are you alright Ron?” Hermione explained, turning to see the state he was in.

“Better than her” Ron shrugged referring to you as he made his way over to Snape with the intent to join his trip to the infirmary.

“Malfoy?” Snape said in his usual cold tone.

“Huh?” Draco said, looking up a little surprised as he was in his head and not paying attention. Snape noticed that the boy was oblivious, and he let out a small disappointing sigh before replying.

“Care to join us at the infirmary?” It almost sounded like a statement rather than a question because of Snapes usual cold tone. Draco looked down at his dirtied uniform and bruised hands. He will admit that his arm and back did hurt from the landing and he was sure he had a fair share of bruises underneath his uniform, and as much as he would like to follow, he knew that if he did he would want to check up on you, and that would draw a lot of unwanted attention and suspicion to the relationship between you and him, and after saving you there was enough speculation coming his way, he didn’t need anymore.

“Uh- no I think I’m alright” He shrugged. Without any further questioning Snape turned around and began walking back to the castle accompanied by Ron. Harry stumbled to his feet and quickly began to follow Snape but was stopped by Professor McGonigal placing her arm in front of him.

“I think you should stay; I need to have a word with you and everyone else here to figure out what happened today”, and with that Harry sighed, he wanted to protest and go with his sister, but he knew that she was in good hands; and he too wanted to know what causes her sister to bleed all over the Quidditch field.

Professor McGonigal took the Gryffindor team to the side of the field to question them first, leaving the Slytherin team plus Hermione, Luna and Neville alone, while the crowd was told to go back to the great hall.

There was only small chatter between the students before a few Slytherin students began chuckling. “Surely this means we win right? I mean we managed to get two of the Gryffindor players out of commission.” Marcus Flint chuckled rather loudly to his friends.

Hermione shot them a quick glare, but they were seemingly unfazed by it. She knew they had something to do with what happened today. Draco, who had been standing around in silence avoiding any questions from his teammates while holding his still sore arm, shot a firm glare towards the Marcus Flint, having also caught on that he was up to something.

“What?” Marcus mockingly questioned when he noticed Draco’s cold glare.

“What did you do?” Draco asked coldly as he began walking over to the boy.

“What does it look like, I won us the game mate!” Marcus chuckled while looking around at his friends who were also seemingly enjoying this.

“You cheated!” Hermione exclaimed, “I saw a small flash of blue light move around the field”.

“And what does that prove?” Marcus replied, with his horrific smile hung high.

“You used a spell; you’ve got your wand with you” Hermione pointed out gesturing to his wand that couldn’t quite fit properly into his pocket.

“Yeah, and what are you going to do about its Granger” Marcus stated as he began walking into Hermione’s personal space, towering over her in an attempt to make her feel threatened.

“You put two people in the infirmary!” Nevile chimed in trying to see if Marcus had any remorse for his actions.

“Congrats the boy can count” Marcus laughed while waving his hand in the air mockingly which was followed by laughter from his surrounding friends. “It’s not like anyone is going to miss those two” Marcus scoffed as he turned back to his friend.

Draco glanced at the red stained grass then back up to Marcus who was chuckling alone with his friends like nothing had even happened. The boy was showing no remorse, so he wasn’t going to either. Hermione saw something change in Draco’s eyes, they suddenly went dark and before she could say anything he was clenching his fists and angrily walking up to Marcus. The second Marcus turned to acknowledge Draco’s precents, Draco swung his fist violently and fast at the boy’s left cheek, causing him to stumble to the ground. The pain in Draco shoulder was long gone, covered by his anger for the boy in front of him.

“The fuck is your problem!” Marcus exclaimed as he stood up and swung back at the blonde boy. Cries were heard from the people around them as Draco took the punch given to him, but almost immediately returned it and managed to push Marcus back to the ground. Marcus brought Draco down with him and they continued to swing at each other, grabbing each other’s collars and pushing the other down. It wasn’t until Draco managed to pin Marcus beneath him and was mercilessly slamming his fists into the boy’s face before he was pulled back. Arms wrapped around him as he tried to push against them.

“Stop! He’s not worth it” Oliver wood exclaimed as he was holding Draco back along with Fred Weasley.

“You Piece of shit!” Marcus spat at Draco with blood coming out of his mouth, while trying to reach him; struggling against Blaise and Goyel grip.

“ENOUGH!” Professor McGonigal exclaimed as she glared at the two boys, making them stop struggling to free themselves.

“The Two of you, my office NOW!” McGonigal glared at the boys as they slowly stumbled to their feet with hung their heads low as they walked by her side to her office. An angry glare was exchanged between the boys ever so often as they made their way back to the castle.

“What on earth has gotten into everyone today!?” Oliver exclaimed looking around at all the stunned students.

“Malfoy beating the living shit out of Flint, now that's something” Seamus answered, not hiding his amusement

“Yeah, but why?” Oliver continued

“Because he cheated during the match, He was the reason your team got hurt” Hermione Chimed in.

“What?!, That bastard!” Harry spat.

“Why would Malfoy be so upset about Slytherin cheating? Wouldn’t put it past him to do it himself” Fred replied.

“Merlin knows” Seamus sighed.

“So are we just going to ignore the elephant in the room” George asked, causing everyone to send him questioning looks.

“Which one” Seamus chuckled.

“The fact that ‘The prince of Slytherin ‘abandoned chasing the golden snitch to catch and most likely save the life of the one and only ‘princess of Gryffindor’”. George explained. To which Fred replied with a small chuckle “well when you say it like that”.

“Does seem a bit curious don’t you think” Luna gently stated.

Harry shared a confused look with Hermione, both acknowledging that they needed to talk privately.

“Whatever, I’ll discuss this later with McGonigal; we should pack-up and clear out of here before this rain becomes a storm” Oliver said he began making his way off the court, still pissed about how the match went down. Everyone soon followed him.

Everyone had been told to go about their day as usual, but nothing about what had happened earlier was usual. Hermione had gone to speak to professor McGonigal about her suspicions involving Marcus Flint and his cheating. To which McGonigal was able to confirm when assessing the recent spells used through his wand. Quidditch matches had been suspended for the month due to foul play and to say everyone was upset was an understatement. Harry had spent most of the day by your side, with Ron as company. A few hours later you had woken to a killer headache and harry was quick to inform Hermione so she could come and see you, which of course she did and used the time to fill you in on what had happened.

You were jaw-dropped shocked when Hermione informed you that the Draco Malfoy had flown over to you on a whim to catch you. Not only that but he had beaten up Flint because he was the one who was cheating and hurt you and Ron. None of this made any sense but for a moment it made your heart flutter with the idea that he actually cared. To some degree at least. But to be fair he must care quite a bit to have been the first person to rush over to help you. If you weren’t in so much pain, you would be eager to get out of the infirmary just so you could see him in potions but unfortunately that didn’t look like it was happening anytime soon.

Hermione excused herself from your presence and began to make her way to the detention classroom which she had heard Draco had been placed in, leaving a trail of small clicks behind her as her shoes tapped the store floor. The room felt cold and isolating, only accompanied by the sound of rain against the rather large windows.

Hermione slowly stepped towards Draco, where he was sitting on the edge of a crooked chair, silently looking down at his hands. Entering his field of view Hermione waited, expecting some form of acknowledgement but Draco held his gaze on the icepack he was holding in his pale and muddy hands.

Hermione spoke softly, almost as if she was afraid that if she started him, he would disappear. “I heard McGonigal yelling from down the hall” She paused for a moment when he didn’t respond. “How long were you given?”.

“8 weeks” Draco quietly grumbled after a few seconds.

“And Marcus?”

“12.” His tone was empty and careless.

“Makes sense” Hermione said as she stepped closer to the boy, fiddling with her hands.

“She woke up” Hermione quietly commented referring to you. She took note of Draco’s reaction. He had moved his eyes up but stopped before they met with hers and brought them back down to his hand; almost as if he didn’t want them to leave his hand in the first place. It was a small reaction, but it was still there.

Hermione decided to continue figuring he was curious and wasn’t going to respond. “She is doing fine by the way; she’ll be out of the infirmary very soon.” Draco just nodded softly in repose still avoiding her gaze.

“Draco” Hermione said softly and took a step closer, she waited for him to look at her and once he did, she was almost taken back a bit. She had never seen such a plain soft expression him this boy. His face always contained a scowl and a mischievous smirk. She has to blink herself back to reality and out of her thoughts.

“You did a good thing today; you probably saved her life. The fall could have taken her out” Hermione tone was so genuine that Draco didn’t know how to respond.

“So, thank you” Hermione finished softly with a small smile. Draco pressed his lips together in acknowledgement before Hermione turned to walk out the room, leaving Draco alone with his thoughts.

Although Draco hadn’t said much to Hermione, a lot was exchanged, and she knew that she was going to revisit her conversation with you about his change in behavior. Draco was left dreading how mad his father was going to be about his actions, but once he remembered why he did them, his mind shifted, and he didn’t care as much about what his father was going to say, only what he was going to say to you.