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jakesimfromstatefarm · 3 years

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notoriously yours | jay park

✰ summary: jay park is a rich kid. it’s safe to say he has everything every broke college student on his campus could dream of and more. but the one thing he doesn’t have, which money definitely can’t buy, is a girlfriend. and his friends won’t see of it. literally.

so what happens when his friends bet him to date someone for more than three months? what happens when jay decides that fake-dating someone would be easier than actual dating (because god forbid Jay–the campus’ notoriously known fuckboy–decides to commit to something once in his life)?

and what happens when that someone is you, his childhood best friend he hasn’t spoken to in years..who has absolutely no interest in being in his life anymore?

✰ pairing: jay park x y/n [ft. members of enha]

✰ genre: fluff, comedy, angst | fakedating!au, college!au, childhoodbestfriends!au, (kinda) e2l!au

✰ warnings: cursing, nothing suggestive but jay's a fuckboy so slightly suggestive themes, mentions of parental neglect/leaving, it's hella long (and i thought my last fic was long)

✰ wc: 14.7k (how did i get it this long oh lord)

✰ author's note: picture creds go to original owners/editors! peep that edit of jay that lowkey inspired this entire fic 👀also this took me so, so long bc i lost motivation half way thru and bc college is a thing,,,so i honestly don't know how to feel abt it so pls bare with me :')))) ALSO the dividers are weird bc idk how to add more than 10 pics for the dividers so pls excuse those ٩(× ×)۶i hope u guys enjoy!! <333

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Jay Park is a rich kid.

Jay Park has enough to buy every textbook he needs for his courses without having to look up the free versions online. Jay Park has enough to bribe his professors to let him pass every class with a perfect 4.0 GPA (but because the boy has morals, he doesn't). Jay Park has enough to afford a car to drive to his furthest class from his dorm building instead of walk or bike like every other college student, meaning he also has enough to afford a parking spot on campus (those things aren't cheap!).

Jay Park walks around your school's campus like he owns the place (and considering the amount of money his family has donated to the school, he practically does), looking like he just walked out of your local coffee shop's newest fashion magazine. His blonde hair is never seen untouched, his attire usually consisting of an undoubtedly high-end all-black fit, accessorized with multiple earrings and rings that probably cost more than all the overpriced textbooks you had to rent out this semester. It's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park.

Bottom line is, Jay Park has everything.

Well, his friends beg to differ.

In their eyes, Jay Park has everything but a simple factor in the equation of love (or whatever love is to the minds of a couple of 19 year olds): commitment.

So yes, it's safe to say that everyone knows Jay Park. Because everyone knows he's the campus' rich fuckboy. (What's a college fanfic campus without one anyways?)

Jay doesn't go unreminded of this by his friends, to the boy's annoyance.

Jay is aware of this on a Sunday afternoon, in his dorm building's first floor lounge, where he and his said friends are having a study session.

They're doing anything but studying.

In fact, no one has any books out or anything. Not a single laptop in site.

"You don't think it's the slightly bit concerning?" Jake's words are muffled as he continues munching on the fried chicken that he spent majority of this study session debating if he should have it delivered through UberEats or not.

"I really don't, no," Jay shrugs as he continues mindlessly scrolling through his Instagram feed. They're having the same argument conversation that they've revisited multiple times over the course of their friendship, one that Jay has been lectured on too many times for his own good. He thinks his friends could become his new parents if they really tried.

"Look at it this way, okay. You're about to graduate college in a couple of years, into the big world. Like the actual, adult world. And that means you'll have to settle down. Which you can't do when you. have. no. commitment!" Jake punctuates each word with a single clap of his hands, desperate to get his point across.

Jay simply rolls his eyes. He looks over to Sunghoon, who's minding his own business, not bothered by the same topic he's heard over and over again. His eyes tell Jay you're on your own, in response to his blonde-haired friend's look of despair.

Jay thinks that maybe he should get new friends. Yes, that's the only solution here.

"My love life," Jay reaches across the table for a drumstick from the greasy tub seated in Jake's lap until Jake swats his hand away, "is none of your business. Also, ouch."

"Uh, it kinda is. Because of you and your reputation around campus, it kinda affects us, your best friends. How do you think we look, hanging out with the guy who's known to ghost every girl in existence after one night with them? No offense to you," Jake deadpans to him. Jay mentally reconsiders the term best friends.

Tough love. Jay tells himself it's tough love.

"Yes, because every girl totally hates Jake Sim, the teacher assistant of a physics class who volunteers at the pet shelter every Sunday and brings their pet golden retriever to campus every two weeks," Jay rolls his eyes at his Australian friend.

Jake sighs. "Okay, then I'm coming from a place of worry for you."

Jay groans. "Again, none of your business!" This doesn't stop Jake. He comes from good intentions, really, but Jay wants nothing more than to stuff the kid's mouth with some of that chicken to shut him up.

"What are you gonna do if one day you meet someone you like, genuinely like, and you screw yourself over because you've never been in an actual relationship before? A real, committed one. Like one that lasts at least three months."

"You don't think I can last three months in a relationship?" Jay questions the boy currently taunting him.

"Honestly? No. What's the longest relationship you've been in?" Jake cocks an eyebrow at his friend across from him.

One month and two weeks. But Jay's smart enough to not say that out loud.

"I can so last over three months," Jay mutters more to himself than Jake.

Jake laughs at that, pausing to take another bite of the drumstick in his hand. "Jay, I am willing to actually bet you. Bet that you wouldn't be able to." He leans back on the couch, the ball now in Jay's court.

Jay freezes, looking up from his phone, narrowing his eyes at Jake.

"Forget it, Jake. He's not gonna agree even if you offered him money," Sunghoon finally perches from beside him. Well he's not wrong. It's not like Jay is exactly in need of more money, per say.

"What kind of bet are we talking here?"

Sunghoon's right. Jay doesn't need the money, but he does hate being wrong. Even if it's over something as stupid as this matter.

Caught off guard by the blonde's answer, Jake blinks blankly at him and takes a second to think.

"Hmm..what about...what about if you can date someone for at least three months, and I mean an actual, committed relationship, then I'll do all of your physics homework next semester."

Jay's eyes sparkle at that. If there's anything he despises more than commitment, it's physics.

"And if I win, you have to buy all of my textbooks," Jake sits back from the edge of his seat with a smirk lying on his face.

Jay pauses to think about it. I mean, what does he have to lose? A couple hundred dollars over college textbooks? No. Because he just simply won't lose.

And maybe he'll learn what it'll be like to actually be in a committed relationship for once. Maybe he'll finally learn what it's like to actually devote yourself to someone, open up to them. He shivers at the thought. Never mind. He'll warm up to it. Baby steps.

Nonetheless, what could go wrong? Even if he does lose, at least his money would be going somewhere productive––towards his friend's education. Jay was probably gonna use that money on something useless like a blanket that resembles a tortilla (a burrito blanket, he calls it)––something he doesn't necessarily need, but must have, he would argue.

"Fine. Whatever, okay. Deal," he grabs Jake's extended hand in front of him and shakes on it.

Jake's impressively smiling at the boy as Sunghoon lets out a sigh, in disbelief with the two guys he calls his best friends.

Jay concludes that this will be easier than his Introduction to Photography 101 course he took his freshman year. How hard is it to find someone to date the Jay Park? Surely, everyone will be lining up once Jay switches his FaceBook relationship status from "it's complicated" to "single".

Turns out, it's not as easy as his class where all Jay had to do was take pictures of a pretty sunset, slap a VSCO filter on, and call it a day.

He comes to this realization on a Wednesday evening, as he's seated at one of the many study tables lined in the middle of the campus' library, staring down at his phone's dry iMessage app, with his laptop and blank sheets of scratch paper scrambled across the entire table, as an attempt to look half as studious as the other students studying in the facility.

Turns out, being known as the campus' fuckboy who ghosts every girl on campus isn't a good thing when it comes to wanting to find a real relationship.

He comes to this realization after failing to receive a single text back to the many ones he sent out throughout the first half of his day. The ghoster gets ghosted. Oh how the turn tables.

Jay groans dramatically as he tosses his phone on the hard surface of the table, earning himself a harsh shush from the librarian filing books in the aisle beside him.

He sheepishly smiles back as an apology, directing his attention back to his open laptop screen, where his untouched calculus homework stares back at him––his mind preoccupied with the looming threat of Jake's bet. Not that it was threatening in any way, per say, but Jay just hates losing. And from the looks of things, it's safe to say that Jay won't be celebrating any victories anytime soon.

Jay thinks he should just change his identity and just transfer to some boarding school in Switzerland. Yes, that's a much better solution than admitting defeat to Jake.

Jay sighs as he lies his head on the table, figuring he might as well just write the check for Jake's textbooks now. He wonders how he got here in the first place. Not how he got into the bet, and definitely not how he's sitting in the middle of the library, having yet to start his calculus homework due at 11:59PM tonight (he should really start that).

But no, he wonders how he gained the reputation as the campus' playboy. To be fair, his friends (mainly Jake), are constantly reminding him of his notorious habits. But how did they come a habit in the first place?

The idea of being in a relationship is nice, sure, but the commitment that comes with it? The idea of being dependent on someone? It's scary, vulnerable, and one that Jay can't picture for himself.

Maybe some people just aren't meant to be paired. Maybe some people, like Jay, like being independent and are meant to stay that way.

But Jay also likes affection. He likes the fleeting, warm feeling he gets every time he finds himself under someone's sheets. He likes the short-lived comfort he receives from someone else's touch, even though he knows it's going to cease to exist the second he steps out of those bedroom's doors. He just likes affection, simple as that.

That and he's a 19 year old teenage boy with needs, what did you expect?

And so what if he likes the idea of affection minus commitment? Is that so bad? Apparently it is, to people like his friends and the entirety of his school's campus, at least.

At this rate, he might as well pay someone to date him.

Wait. Jay lifts his head off the table's surface in realization.

He might as well pay someone to date him.

There's no harm in that, is there?

He wouldn't have to endure through an endless amount of dates to find someone he clicks with, then continue going on dates with said clicked person, all while trying to develop an actual, serious relationship.

He'll win the bet, get his physics homework done for an entire semester, and some lucky girl out there will be making profit for the small price of hanging out with Jay Park for three months.

And lucky for him, Jay knows the perfect candidate for this scheme.

Simple as that.

Just as long as said perfect candidate says yes.

And as long as Jake and Sunghoon don't find out. Or else Jay might really have to move to Switzerland after all.

You love your friends, you do.

Hana and Heeseung have been there for you when others haven't––they were by your side when you knew no one entering high school, and they were still by your side when you were all graduating said high school. Needless to say, you're eternally grateful for friends like them.

But right now, in this moment––with you seated in the middle of the campus' library, trying to write your essay, as your two friends blabber on and on about the most recent gossip across from you––your two friends could be your villain origin story.

But again, you love your friends, you do. So you don't have the heart to tell them to leave. You've managed to naturally tune out most of the conversation, anyways, for this––your friends coming to hang out while you're trying to study––is no rare occurrence by any means.

"Oh yeah, Jay Park texted me last night."

You hate how your brain's filter suddenly turns off at Hana's words.

You hate how your ears catch the sudden mention of Jay Park's name.

You hate how the thought of Jay Park gets to even occupy a single brain cell of yours.

You hate how you even know who Jay Park is. Well, knew.

Past tense. Because up until eighth grade––when Jay decided to just suddenly pretend you didn't exist––he was attached to you like a koala to a eucalyptus tree.

And if you had asked past Y/N, ideally, Jay would've never left your side. Ideally, he would've never left you to fend for yourself when entering high school. Ideally, he would've stayed your best friend through out all four years of high school and ideally, you would've eventually told him how you really felt about him after growing up with him all your life. And maybe it would've lead to a completely different story. But for the sake of this fic, we don't live in an ideal world.

So yes, if it wasn't for his attendance at the very same university as you, you would've forgotten about the boy who brought you the painful memories of your childhood.

And since the universe clearly doesn't work in your favor, avoiding Jay Park's existence like he's the plague would have to suffice. And it works.

For the most part.

Until some people, bring him up uninvited into your conversation. Like now, for example.

"When was the last time you guys talked anyways?" Heeseung mindlessly asks as he reaches across the table to grab one of the many snacks you usually bring to your study sessions.

"Uh..like a few weeks ago. Give or take. Whenever you threw your house party. Can't say there was much talking involved however," she teasingly says with a giggle and wiggle of her brows.

Heeseung's rolling his eyes as you scoff and chuck a nearby crumpled piece of paper that was once one of your many essay drafts at her.

She bats it away right as it's about to hit her face as she laughs. "Doesn't matter anyways. He ghosted me the next morning, as he does with everyone else. Telling you this now," she extends a finger right at you, "stay away from Jay Park. That kid's just bad news."

You nod in response, mentally telling her she has nothing to worry about.

Been there, done that.

College. Ah yes, the very concept of spending four years of your life imprisoned on a campus where you'll be tearing your hair out from stress and spending all your life's savings just for a laminated sheet of paper with a golden stamp at the end of it all. We live in a society.

Because of said college, and all the weight that comes along with it, you had adapted a strict daily schedule in order to not completely lose your mind. It's a simple schedule really, one of a typical college student who's just trying to get by everyday with as little mental breakdowns as possible.

Wake up, get ready, go to class, go to the library to do your homework, walk all the way across campus to get back to your dorm, shower, then sleep. Oh and eat, of course. And maybe if time permits, be an actual social being and socialize.

It's gotten you this far into the college life without dropping out so, you conclude, you must be doing something right.

Sometimes, if you're feeling nice to yourself, you'll tweak the schedule a bit to fit in some exceptions. Maybe squeeze in a little trip to the bubble tea shop that's on the other side of campus, or maybe get dinner at that one dining hall that you don't usually go to because of the unncessarily long lines (but because they serve ice cream, you go anyways). It doesn't matter what the exception is, you still plan it out to fit into your schedule somehow. Everything is planned out.

Sometimes, however, the universe disagrees with your schedule, to your demise. Such as today, for example.

Because what you didn't expect for today was for a particular blonde-haired boy who you haven't spoken to in almost six years (but who's counting?) to approach your table in the library––a table you were sure no one could find you at, as it was quietly tucked away in the back corner, right next to the Astrophysics shelves. Because who browses the Astrophysics aisle for fun? Actually, maybe Jake Sim would. Anyways.

You definitely didn't anticipate a visit from the boy you've been actively avoiding, so you definitely didn't expect the first words coming out of his mouth when he sees you for the first time in six years to be:

"Fake date me."

You blink up at him.

Yeah, definitely not expected.

But you only let it phase you for a split second, until you feel a slight annoyance beginning to bubble up deep inside of you.

"Wow, hello to you too Jay! It's been what––half a decade? Yeah I've been pretty good, thanks for asking!" The sarcasm is practically dripping off your tongue.

You don't know what runs through Jay's mind, but apparently it isn't common sense––or the ability to read the room. Because next thing you know, he's sliding the chair across from you out from underneath the table and making himself at home.

And he's smiling right at you.

Curse him and his smile.

But no, you're not giving into it.

Not yet, at least.

"What do you want?" You deadpan at him when he makes no sign of making the next move.

"A girlfriend," he deadpans right back at you, as if he was casually telling you what he wanted for dinner. As if you two were close-knit friends that could approach one another without any proper greeting. As if you two had kept your friendship all these years. As if you two even had a role in each other's lives.

"Can't help you there," you scoff, deciding to not even question his lack of manners on top of his uninvited presence.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why?"

"Well gee, seeing that the first few words you decided to say to my face for the first time in forever were a demand, a demand to date you no less, then....no," your monotone voice says as you keep your eyes focused on your laptop screen, not daring to look at the boy across from you.

In the Introduction to Sociology course you took your freshmen year, you had learned of one important term: interactional vandalism. Textbook definition being: "ignoring signals of disinterest in a conversation, leading it to an offense."

Your definition being: "are you oblivious or just plan dumb, read the room!"

This was interactional vandalism, alright. Whether Jay's truly oblivious or just trying to annoy you until your head explodes (it's really the former, but you're convinced it's the latter), he takes your signals of disinterest and tosses it right out of his head to continue the conversation.

"I'm stuck in this stupid bet with Jake--do you remember him? He bet me that I couldn't date someone for more than three months and I figured having someone fake date me would be easier than actually dating someone, right? That's where you come into the equation," he proposes as he leans back in his chair, as if he had just finished a sales pitch to a prospective customer looking to buy a car.

You couldn't believe this. You're 98% sure this has got to be a prank. You're mentally preparing for a camera crew to jump out from in-between the library's aisles any moment now and scream into your ears that you've just been punk'd!

The remaining 2% of you, however, wouldn't put it past the two boys to get themselves in such a situation. The last memory you had of Jay and his friends were pretty much their childish selves back in middle school. And by looking at the current scene unfolding in front of you...it's needless to say they haven't changed much.

"Again, can't help you there. Ask one of the many girlfriends I thought you had." Ouch.

"But Y/N, you've known me all your life--"

"Up until you dropped me a few years ago but sure, let's call it that."

"--and convincing other people is gonna make me look--"

"--desperate? Yeah."

"C'mon, Y/N. What do you have to lose anyways?"

"Uh..my dignity? Pride? Self-respect? Sorry Jay, not happening," you turn your attention back to your unwritten essay in front of you, mentally checking out of this conversation. This would be a good time for that camera crew to jump out now.

"Look, no one else is gonna do it, Y/N." Jay has always been stubborn, you suppose. But so are you.

"Yeah, because you've managed to push every being of the opposite gender away from you. You gave yourself this reputation in the first place," you give it to him straight. It's not like you had a relationship with him to uphold anyways––Jay himself broke that friendship years ago.

Jay hates that you're right.

You're always right. He remembers how he used to always go to you for advice and clarity on the world's biggest problems. Granted, the world's biggest problems to him at the time equated to what he should dress up as for the fifth grade Halloween party, but still. A tough decision, for the mind of a ten-year-old.

You abruptly stop typing and begin putting your laptop and textbooks away as you huff in frustration. There's no point in trying to get your work done now. The longer you stay arguing with Jay, the bigger your headache gets. The longer he continues to occupy any part of your brain, the bigger your headache gets.

Getting up from your seat, packed and ready to slam your head into your pillow, you turn to the blonde one last time.

"Look Jay. We went on our separate ways years ago. If you weren't so notoriously known around campus and my friends would stop talking about you, I would've long forgotten you. I'm sorry you're in this situation, really. If I were you, I'd just tell Jake I can't do it. Or don't, I can't tell you what to do. Just don't get some innocent girl involved in whatever stunt of yours this is."

Jay stares at you, mouth agape, as you find your way out of the library and through the main doors. By the time he comes back to his senses, he realizes how he looks plain stupid––standing in the middle of the library, the look on his face screaming befuddlement, to say the least. Jay quickly makes his way out of the building, in hopes of convincing you one last time.

Jay catches sight of your figure already half-way down the walkway that connects the library to the main quad of your school's campus. Geez, you walk fast.

Not fast enough to outrun Jay's legs, however. If Jay running after you through the middle of campus in order to convince you to fake date him doesn't show how desperate he is to win this bet, I don't know what will.

"Wait, Y/N!"

You groan to yourself before turning to face the boy who can't seem to take a hint and leave you alone. You stare at his out-of-breath state as he heaves up and down from the slight jog he had to endure to get to where you are. If you're humored by him chasing after you, you do a good job of hiding it.

He meets your unimpressed state before stating his final proposition: "I'll pay you. Five hundred dollars."

You nearly stop breathing.

Now this catches your attention––after all, you're but a broke college student who's just trying to survive. And preferably not by feeding yourself instant ramen cups every night.

And so, naturally, you begin rethinking about the opportunity presented in front of you. You narrow your eyes at the boy as you weigh your options.

The first problem being, it's Jay Park––the bane of your very existence. You spent the last few years of your life pretending he didn't exist...for good reason. Not only did he do you dirty when you were merely a couple of 13-year-olds, but you just didn't want to be involved with someone like him. Someone known for his nature, someone who left your own current best friend ghosted. And not that Hana herself would care, for she has called herself the "female Jay Park", but you're sure this would be breaking some rule in the girl code handbook. Plus, if you agree to this, you'd be betraying 13-year-old Y/N, the one who decided to never speak to nor think of Jay Park again––which by now you've failed, but you get the gist.

Second problem being, three months is a long time. Three months is practically the rest of this semester, and did you really want to spend the rest of the semester tied down to the label of being Jay Park's girlfriend? There would have to be some negative connotations that came along with that title, right? No offense to Jay, but being his first girlfriend since, what, high school could make you come off as..naive, for lack of a better term. As if the only person you could settle for was Jay Park. As if you barely had any standards for yourself. Again, no offense to Jay.

Needless to say, if your school's debate club had to argue on why you shouldn't be doing this, you're sure the negating side could win with these two reasons alone.

But before you're rejecting the boy currently standing in front of you one last time, you find yourself mentally listing rebuttals.

First of all, you'd be getting paid. And again, you're merely but a college student living the stereotypical broke college student life––burdened by the costs of tuition, textbooks, and midnight McDonalds runs for when you're out of aforementioned instant ramen cups. Five hundred dollars could provide you with more than enough chicken McNuggets to last you the semester, and maybe some more to treat yourself to an online shopping spree.

Second of all, it's not like you were going to do anything better with your next three months anyways. It's safe to say you were too busy being a diligent student to actually look for anyone to date, per say. And if anything, having a fake boyfriend might actually be helpful in your case. Your mom would be off your ass about how you're still single, for one. And two, your friends (though it's really just Heeseung) would stop trying to hook you up on blind dates with guys that you would choose Jay Park over any day (and that really says something).

Third of all, it's Jay Park. As much as you despise the kid, you still know him. He's not a complete stranger to you, no matter how much you try to deny it. It could be worse, it could be a complete rando asking you to date him. At least you two have some sort of history, which would take care of the typical small talk and getting to know each other bit of this equation. And truth be told, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you weren't a tad bit satisfied by the fact that Jay chose you, of all people, to pull off this stunt with him. You don't know if it's the nostalgia of your childhood memories rushing back to you, but it reminds you of the endless schemes you two used to plan behind your parents' backs all the time. Granted, your childhood schemes––such as the both of you faking sickness so you could skip school together––don't even fall close to being in a fake relationship with one another, but still. It's the thought that counts.

All of those reasons plus, Jay isn't the worst to look at. He may have a spoiled reputation, but at least he has his looks going for him, you'll give him that (you're still secretly wondering when and how did he get his glow up, but don't tell him that).

And so by the guidelines of a college student's logic that states the pros outweigh the cons, you come to the overarching conclusion that maybe, this won't be so awful after all.

"Five hundred?" You ask, just for clarification. Jay's immediately nodding at your words. You continue to ponder on your thoughts as he stares at you hopefully.

The silent atmosphere of your campus heightens the tension so much, you swear you're in one of those overdramatic pausing scenes that occur too many times in k-dramas.

You sigh, then nod.

"Okay," you're internally praying that you won't regret this decision. "I'm in."

The next time you see Jay is at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building that's home to your awfully long Capitalism in the Western World class.

You're going down the steps of the building, mentally deciding where and what you're going to treat yourself to for lunch––as the three hour lecture you had just attended drained all the life and energy out of you––when you hear the slight call of your name.

Turning to the source, you're met with a waving Jay, leaning against the passenger's side of his car, parked in front of the lecture hall building you were currently leaving.

Great.

You walk over to where he's casually waiting––he's unaware of all the stares he's attracted from fellow students leaving the same lecture as you. Can you blame them? It's not everyday you see a sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition pull up in front of your Friday afternoon lecture. It's not everyday you see Jay Park waiting for anyone outside of his said sleek, black BMW that probably cost more than your tuition.

"Hi," you simply let out as you plant yourself in front of him, not sure whether or not to question him why are you here? Surely, he wasn't waiting for you?

"Hi," he smiles down at you. There's a beat of silence. "I was waiting for you."

Bingo.

"Oh. What are you, my chauffeur?" You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"Maybe. I am your boyfriend, after all," he says into the air, loud and clear, as if he wanted people to hear. Well that is the point, you suppose.

But still, all you want to do is smack the smirk right off his face.

Before you have time to put your next question into words, he answers it for you.

"I'm taking you out for lunch," he declares as if you have nothing else planned for the day. Well, to be fair, you didn't have anything else planned for the day. Except for your usual library run. But you figure the library could wait.

"Oh, like on a date?" You raise your eyebrows teasingly at him as you get into the car, Jay holding the door wide open for you. "Is Jay Park treating me to lunch as a date?"

Jay fights the scowl (or is that a smile?) growing on his face as he bends down to meet your eye level from inside the car. "Don't flatter yourself, princess. We've got fake lives to live."

"Call me princess one more time and you won't have a real life to live," you flash him a sarcastic smile and slam the door in his face.

Jay meets his own shocked reflection on the passenger's side window.

Cute.

"When you said you were taking me out to lunch, I expected like...I don't know...the diner on campus. Not whatever this is," you mutter to Jay as the two of you are brought to your table by a waitress at an upscale sushi restaurant, one that is undoubtedly out of your usual budget, but for sure an upgrade from your dining hall's pizza you were planning to have. You should've figured as much, the drive here was a little more than out of the way from campus, and who are you kidding, it's Jay Park you're eating with.

You stare down at your current outfit, which consisted of a hoodie you've owned since your junior year of high school and leggings that you threw on without second thought this morning––because you didn't exactly wake up and decide I'm going to go to a fancy sushi bar for lunch today!

"Why are we here anyways?" You ask him when you're both settled in your seats and the waitress walks away after listing the chef's specials for the day.

"Oh, they have killer dragon rolls here, you have to try it," Jay tells you nonchalantly as his eyes rake the menu in front of him, blocking your view of him.

How dense can one be? Your hand snatches his menu as you stare into his unamused eyes.

"No, Jay. I mean, why are we here? It's not like anyone's around to see us put on a show anyways."

"Oh. I figured," Jay's quick to grab the menu back from out of your hands as he continues, "that we should sit down and establish how exactly we're going to deliver this performance. After all, you're stuck with me for the next three months."

Again, smacking the smirk currently resting on his face would satisfy you beyond relief. Just once.

"If I drop out halfway through, do I still get $250?" You tease, leaning back.

"Ha ha. Funny. No," he narrows his eyes at you from across the table. "It's all or nothing."

You dramatically huff to make a show just for his annoyance.

"Worth a try. But sure, let's solidify this. What's the game plan?" You sit up in your seat, leaning over the table as if the two of you were hosting a secret meeting.

"It's simple really," Jay mirrors your actions, face leaning in close to where yours is hovering over the table. "Just pretend to be deeply in love with me for three months, and try not to actually be charmed by my cunning looks."

If someone gave you five dollars for every time you've already rolled your eyes at him today, you wouldn't even need to be in this deal for the five hundred dollars.

"Wow, smooth. Can I just remind you you're the one paying a girl to be in a fake relationship with you because you're just not competent enough to find an actual girlfriend?" You lean back, arms crossing over your figure.

Jay, unfazed, laughs, tongue briefly hitting the inside of his cheek. "Touché."

Your eyes go back to the menu in front of you as a silence falls over the table. Because you're not a loaded trust fund baby who comes to fancy five-star sushi restaurants for lunch on a daily, you don't recognize half of the entree names on the menu. You spot the dragon roll Jay suggested, but seeing that a basic California roll is less expensive, your natural broke-college-student-instincts figure the California roll shall do.

"Okay, in all seriousness," Jay begins as he puts his menu down. "It's simple really. We'll just go on weekly dates and post cute pictures of each other once in a while and a little after three months, I'll just say it didn't work out. I'll give you the five hundo and boom, we move on with our lives."

It's clear Jay's put some thought into this. Safe to say he's put more effort planning this out than the amount of work he's been putting into his classes. Someone's got their priorities straight.

You're impressed to say the least––you figured Jay would just be the kind to go with the flow and wait for the situation to unfold on its own and maybe blow up into flames. But seeing as he was just as serious about winning this bet as you were with making five hundred dollars, your doubts about this entire situation were slowly withering away.

Don't get it wrong, though, you still despise him. To an extent, at least.

"And don't worry about the dates. I'll pay on your behalf, as the loving, doting boyfriend I am," Jay finishes with a wide, cheesy smile you can't help but return a growing smile back at.

"Well then, as the loving, doting girlfriend I am, I shall gift you coffee, breakfast, all that fun couple stuff, whenever you please. Or maybe unannounced, if I'm feeling nice," you figure you should pitch in as much if he's paying for all your dates. And deep down, you find the idea kinda cute. But don't tell anyone that.

"Wow, look at us. We should become Dispatch's couple of the year already!" Jay exclaims, earning himself a small giggle from you, which pleases him to say the least. He thinks that maybe when this is all over, he'll hopefully make a good friend (well, for the second time) out of it.

And you're thinking that maybe the next three months won't be as bad as you initially had thought.

As the two of you delve deep into a debate about who would be the better significant other to each other, the waitress comes over to take your orders.

And because you're laughing and Jay's brightly smiling at you from across the table, you order the dragon roll.

The second time Jay takes you out––this time he gives you a heads up to get ready––it's at a, once again, high-class steakhouse.

The third time, you insist on the on-campus diner that's popular amongst the student population. Partially because you feel bad for the amount of money he's spent on you (even though he couldn't care less), but mostly because if you have to put on another fancy dress to just eat an overpriced meal that doesn't even fully satisfy your hunger, you might lose your mind.

And by this third time, Jake is aware of this newly blossomed relationship.

"Three dates! I didn't know you had it in you, going on three dates with the same girl!" Jake excitedly exclaims as he jumps into the empty spot on Jay's dorm bed and shoves his phone's screen into Jay's face.

The smaller screen displays Jay's most recent Instagram post: an image of you sitting behind your too-small-to-be-this-expensive-steak and smiling right into Jay's camera––a memory that brings a smile to his face:

~ ~ ~

"C'mon! We said Instagram posts would be a part of the deal! How else can we convince people we're dating?" A pout rests on Jay's face as he stares at you from across the table in the middle of the extravagantly decorated restaurant he picked out for your second date. You remember your eyes bulging out of their own sockets when you saw the "$$$$$" rating Yelp gave the place when you searched it up earlier.

"Okay, okay! One picture," you give in, already slightly annoyed that you were here instead of the comfort of your own bed, where you could be rewatching your favorite Netflix show for the third time. But because you made a deal and because you're desperate for money, you had to follow through––so here you were.

You flash an unconvincing smile to Jay's camera, which doesn't satisfy him, to say the least. "At least pretend you're somewhat enjoying this date," he frowns at you.

You sigh, until a thought crosses your mind and a smile grows on your face. "Only if you get me boba afterwards."

He narrows his eyes at you, but then meets your smile. "Sure, whatever you want. But only because I've been craving some mango milk tea lately."

"You're a fruit milk tea kind of guy? Sorry, but I might have to fake break-up with you," you tease as you take a sip of your overpriced drink to go with your overpriced meal.

Jay scoffs, feigning hurt by placing his hand over his heart. "Ouch. But before you break up with me, let me get this Instagram post in."

"Wow. Your priorities are so straight," you roll your eyes at him, eliciting a cheeky smile from him as he watches you through his held up phone screen.

"3,2,1."

"Hey, I wasn't ready! That was like mid-laugh!" You reach over the table to grab the phone, but not quick enough for him to put his phone back into his pants' pocket.

"Nope, nuh uh," he laughs as you quickly sit back down into your seat, not wanting to cause a scene in an establishment as proper as this one.

"It's fine. It's a good picture, you look cute," he casually lets out, unaware of the blush rising to the surface of your cheeks, thanks to the fact that you were suddenly interested in playing with the left-over food on your plate.

"Jay! Delete it, I'll let you take another one," you whine from your seat, imagining just how bad a candid picture of you could be.

"Ugh, fine. Ever so picky." He playfully rolls his eyes at you as he takes his phone out and opens the camera app as you prepare yourself.

"Okay, how's this?" Jay turns the phone screen to you after he takes a few snaps on his phone.

"I approve," you grin at him as he goes through the pictures himself, unaware of the smile growing on his face.

"Okay now delete the first one," you point your finger at him, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Okay, okay! Bossy," he laughs as he raises in hands in surrender.

When Jay gets home that night, he recovers the image from his Recently Deleted folder, telling himself it's for the sake of the memory.

Obviously.

~ ~ ~

"It's not that big of a deal," Jay mutters from his spot as his eyes go from the Instagram post to his Exile and Belonging in Modern Literature reading that's due tomorrow, bright yellow highlighter in hand. Typically, you'd find the reading buried deep at the bottom of his school backpack. But because Jay ran into you this morning and because he complained to you about the amount of work he's fallen behind on and because you had threatened him to do his work or else you're not going on another date––a fake date that is––with him, he figured he should at least get one reading done and annotated, despite his strong dislike for highlighters (they hurt his eyes, okay?)

What he doesn't know, however, is how your threat was completely full of bluff––but don't tell him that.

"It is so a big deal, for you at least!" Jake hops off the bed and lands on the wooden floors of Jay's dorm room so hard, Jay winces and sends a mental apology to the poor person who lives below him.

Jake suddenly gasps. "I have to meet her, Jay! As your best friend, it's practically mandatory that I meet her."

Jay opens his mouth to protest, but not before Jake interrupts him once again. "Oh! We can bring Sunghoon too, it'll be so fun! The best friends meet the girlfriend."

Jay can't think of anything worst. Jay imagines that bringing you to meet his best friends would just intimidate you out of dating him––fake dating him, that is. Obviously.

He stares at his friend in agony then back at the reading in front of him––the one Jake said he'd come over to help annotate, but the intention completely left Jake's head the second he heard about Jay's recent dating life.

"You don't have to meet her," Jay says pointedly. "Plus, you already know her."

Jake frowns at his friend's excuse. "Yeah, but that was in middle school! This is different."

Jay's hands shuffle through the reading's pages in front of him as he realizes there's no way the two of them are going to finish the assignment at this point. He supposes he'll have to save death by blindness from highlighters for another day and hope you still agree to go out with him.

Jake suddenly gasps in realization.

"Oh my gosh! Childhood best friends turned college sweethearts," Jake says so dreamily, he might as well plaster heart eyes on. Hopeless romantic, this one.

Before Jay can argue, the piercing sound of three loud knocks echo through the small room, followed with a:

"Jay, are you in? It's me!"

Jay stills at the sound of your sweet voice. He whips his head to Jake, who is also frozen in place.

But the widened-eye boy is quick to come to his senses––unfortunately quicker than Jay himself––because the next thing Jay knows, Jake's eyes are lighting up and he's running to the door, ignoring Jay's screaming whispers through this seething teeth that were somewhere along the lines of Jake––stop, I swear to god if you open that door I'm gonna fucking--

"Y/N!" Jake swings the door wide open, revealing an overly excited him and a frozen Jay half-way to the door, as if he was about to grab the very boy welcoming you in. It's as if we're living in a Sims game and the player clicked pause on this very moment.

Jake's eyes are wildly going back and forth between you and your supposed boyfriend, as if he was waiting for Jay to run over and smother you in hugs and kisses...or something couple-y like that. Jay wouldn't know.

"Uh––hi," you're awkwardly standing inside the room now, a relatively large paper brown bag resting in your palms as you look around for a surface to place it on. Jay makes his way to you without a second thought, quickly taking the bag out of your hold.

"You seemed stressed out earlier, so I figured I could bring you some food as a little pick me up. I didn't know what you liked, so I kinda just got a little of everything from the dining hall. Nothing fancy," you're rambling, but smiling so excitedly at him, Jay doesn't know what to say.

Instead, his mouth slightly drops open as he stares at you in awe, mostly because he's not used to being on the receiving end of such spontaneously generous actions––all while Jake's still excitedly looking back and forth between the two of you, as if he was expecting a marriage proposal to come next.

"Oh wow. Thank you. Really," Jay, still touched by your simple act of kindness, softly says as he places the bag on the limited amount of empty space on his desk surface––the rest of it is covered with his untouched textbooks and unfinished assignments. He wonders if you did this out of playing your role or just because you wanted to. He internally hopes it's the latter. "Seriously, you didn't have to do."

"Nah, don't worry. I wanted to," you shrug with such a genuine smile that Jay realizes he actually missed your smile.

Despite having seen you during your brief run-in this morning when you were fetching your morning coffee, Jay realizes he missed you. The two of you haven't been seeing each other recently because of your busy schedule and if Jay didn't realize it before, he's now sure he missed your company and presence around.

Weird.

"Well, you two have fun! Sunghoon needs me for something," Jake suddenly chirps from his place near the front door, halfway through with putting his shoes on already, breaking the comforting silence that fell between the two of you.

Jay frowns. "But you said you were free all da––"

"SUNGHOON IS CALLING BYE!" And before Jay can even register what's happening, Jake's out the door without another word.

"Er..sorry about him, he's...weird," Jay scratches the back of his neck as he returns to his spot on his bed, mentally setting a reminder to yell at Jake later for leaving the two of you alone. Jay doesn't know exactly why, but he's nervous at the fact that you're here in his room. It's not like you two are complete strangers––or whatever you guys were before––anymore. "Good job on your part, though. How'd you know Jake was here?"

"Oh uh, I didn't"," you let out an awkward laugh. "I just felt like doing it."

Heat rushes to Jay's cheeks and he's not sure 1) what this newfound feeling is and 2) how to respond, yet again.

Having expecting you to leave after dropping the food off, Jay's taken by surprise when you take your shoes off and come over to his bed to look at the pile of work he's spread out.

"Is this everything you have to do?" You question the stressed-out boy as you flip through the various assignments, readings, and essays he put off in the past week.

"More or less," he groans. This is no rare occurrence by any means––Jay being behind in his work––but this time, Jay realizes he may actually be in deep shit, considering he has no idea where to begin.

Right as Jay's expecting a scolding from you, he looks up to meet a look of sympathy on your face. "Well, I mean, I'm pretty much done with my day. I can try to help, I recognize some of these readings from last semester."

Jay thinks to himself that the universe has sent him an angel through the form of you.

"Really? Wow, you were't kidding when you said you'd be a good girlfriend," he sends you a surprised look.

"I'm just being nice, Jay. A concept I'm sure you're not familiar with," you remark back at him, causing his forming smile to grow into a laugh.

"I can too be nice! Need I remind you of who's paying you $500, covering all of our dates AND giving you rides to class everyday?" He remarks pointedly at you, a teasing look resting in his eyes as you're reminded of the first of many times he's come to pick you up before class:

~ ~ ~

You're late.

This never happens.

But then again, your life's been a series of unexpected occurrences lately. Such as the fact that you're currently known as Jay Park's girlfriend, for one.

You're scrambling out of bed once you take one look at your phone and realize shit, you're already late for class. Throwing on whatever articles of clothing your eyes land on first, you're already mentally groaning at the fact that you'll have to skip breakfast and run across your campus to get to said class.

Curse your professor for hosting her lecture at the furthest possible building away from your dorm. Curse the architect who decided to make your campus so large.

You're running down the steps outside of your dorm building's doors when you're abruptly stopped by a familiar sounding cough. You look up from trying to gather all your belongings together at once to meet the gaze of the source of the sound––Jay.

"Wow, you're a mess," he smirks as he gets up from the spot on his car he was leaning against to make his way over to you.

"Gee, thanks! Good morning to you too," you flash him a sarcastic smile before your default frown quickly makes it way back onto your face.

"Aren't you gonna ask me why I'm here?" He grins as he grabs hold of your backpack to sling it across his own back as the two of you walk towards his car.

"Why are you here, Jay?" you sigh, your sarcastic tone hard to miss.

"To give you a ride to class, of course!" He's beaming at you, as if he's a pre-pubescent teen who just won their first girlfriend a prize from the arcade's claw machine.

Oh. That explains the car, you figure. Deep down inside, you're relieved that you'll no longer be bursting through the lecture hall's doors as a sweaty mess––a result of having to run across campus to get to class.

Determined to not let your satisfaction completely show, you resort with a little smile directed towards Jay as he opens the passenger door for you.

The second your enter Jay's car, the strong scent of coffee hits you, and your attention is targeted at the two small cups of coffee sitting in the cupholders of the car.

"Breakfast?" Jay asks as he enters through the driver's side and reaches into the backseat to whip out a small pastry bag. A small, deliciously smelling, pastry bag.

Okay, well. You suppose you could drop the annoyed act now.

Your eyes widen with joy as you grab the bag from him and open it to reveal your favorite breakfast sandwich. He's been taking notes, you'll give him that point.

"Okay, you win. Thank you," you grace him with a soft smile before taking a bite into the glorious gift in your hands.

"Of course, I was just feeling nice," he grins at you as he starts his car. "But don't get used to it." His tone is serious, but his smile directed towards you says differently.

And the fact that he still showed up to drive you to class the next morning.

And the next.

~ ~ ~

"And need I remind you who has to date your dumb ass for the $500 in question?" Your eyes narrow at the boy who can't seem to get that damn smile off his face.

Jay sticks his tongue out at you, ending the conversation. Really Jay? What are you, five? Well, mentally––probably.

You're looking around his minuscule dorm room for a place to sit down, and Jay can't help but feel embarrassed now that you're here, in his messy single studio room that pretty much reflects how Jay treats every other responsibility of his oh so hard life: neglected.

"Uh...here, you can sit on my bed," Jay immediately offers as he moves to the side to make room for your presence––and it isn't much, considering the university only provided him a twin XL bed which is definitely not built for two grown college-aged kids.

If you told yourself a few weeks ago that you'd be shoulder to shoulder on a bed belonging to the guy you cringed at the very thought of, you wouldn't have believed yourself. You wouldn't have believed yourself if you said you were actually glad Jay let you stay instead of kicking you out after delivering the food. Huh.

Weird.

"You know, this kinda reminds me of when we were kids. I always carried us through those horrible multiplication tests in the fifth grade," you wink at him as you settle in the spot next to him, hands grabbing hold of the papers in his lap.

Jay let out a laugh, nudging your shoulder with his. "Hey! The twelve times table is hard, okay?"

You roll your eyes at him––a habit of yours he's noticed whenever the two of you are together, but more recently, he thinks it's been more out of fun than annoyance.

He wonders why.

When Jay had first brought up the idea of bringing you as his date to his father's company dinner, you had expected a fairly fancy five-star restaurant with a formal dress code––for you've become accustomed to Jay's lifestyle. Turns out, your expectations can continue to be exceeded. Because what you had expected to be a simple dinner with a few other business men and women turned out to be an entire party, hosted in a hotel whose interior resembled something close to a castle (Or what you assume a castle looks like, as you've never personally been into a castle yourself, but this hotel is close enough).

Your eyes sparkle at the extravagant columns and diamond chandeliers hanging high above you, and Jay smiles at the expression on your face; like a little girl being brought to the amusement park for the first time ever.

"Wow, this is...wow," you mutter as you drink in the scene in front of you: people dressed in formal attire likewise to yours and Jay's, mingling and drinking what you imagine to be beverages that cost more than your entire life's worth.

Jay laughs from behind you, "Yeah the company goes a little...extra when it comes to these company dinners."

You scoff as you look up at him. "Oh really, you don't say?" You look around and you're suddenly aware of the many people surrounding the two of you and the attention you've acquired ever since entering the building.

"Jay, people are staring." You shuffle closer to him, your voice lowering down to a whisper.

"Well, it's not everyday the son of the company's CEO brings his girlfriend with him, so...looks like we'll be the talk of the party tonight. Smiles on," he winks at you, and you just know he's loving the attention the two of you are receiving right now.

"Jay Park? Is that you?" You hear a warm voice call out from behind the two of you.

The two of you turn around to meet the owner of the voice, a middle-aged woman dressed in an evening gown that matches the pattern of high-end brands you've been recognizing ever since arriving.

"Mrs. Lee! It's so nice seeing you again," Jay cheerily addresses the woman as the two of you bow in greeting.

You internally giggle at the thought of your Jay being so picture-perfect in the eyes of his father's co-workers.

"This is Y/N," he continues, his hand finding its way to your back, protectively resting it there as you go to introduce yourself. "My girlfriend."

You swear you feel goosebumps rise from where he's lightly touching you, and more so when he introduces you as his girlfriend.

You tell yourself it's just your nerves. Yes, that's it, you're just nervous. I mean, you're in a room filled with people who could easily pay off all your college loans with just a snap of their fingers, who wouldn't be nervous? Right? Right.

"Y/N! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, I've heard so much about you!" Mrs. Lee excitedly exclaims as you turn to Jay with a slightly confused look plastered on your face. He mirrors your expression as he shrugs, moving to stand behind you completely, bringing his hands to rest lowly at your hips.

His hands feel like feathers on the thin fabric of your evening gown, so light, so delicate, as if he's unsure if he's crossing a line. It leaves you wanting more, wanting to naturally lean against him and his warmth. You quick to shake the thought of your head as Mrs. Lee chirps up again.

"Jay's father is always talking about how you've been keeping Jay pleasantly busy nowadays! Good thing too, about time this poor boy settle down for someone as beautiful as you," the woman rambles on as you feel a blush creep up on your cheeks at the thought of Jay talking about you to his dad. If only they knew.

"We should probably go find our seats, I think the dinner is beginning soon," Jay says from behind you, saving the two of you from having to listen to Mrs. Lee's story of how she's known Jay ever since he was five years old and seeing him grow into this mature, loving, young man is so amazing. Oh look! I have baby pictures.

Yeah, he was more so saving himself from embarrassment.

The two of you bid your goodbyes before Jay gently uses the hand on your back to maneuver you through the crowd of socializing business moguls.

"She's not wrong, you know," you feel Jay dip his head so he's speaking near your ear, his warm breath tickling your earlobe, as the two of you make your way through the large foyer room.

"Hm?" You hum in question, turning your head up just enough to be able to make eye contact with him as he responds to your look of confusion.

"You look beautiful tonight," he says, eye contact not breaking once. You freeze in your steps.

You stare back at him in silence. Oh.

Your mind is panicking as it flips through your mental book of responses, unsure of what to say back. But because your mind is cloudy from staring at a put-together Jay in a dark navy suit to match your dress (mixed with the nervous butterflies in your stomach––have they always been there?), the only sound that's able to leave your lips is the small stutter of a:

"Huh?"

Wow Y/N, you had one job. A simple "thank you" could've sufficed! And you went with "Huh"?

You felt like a fifth grader who just learned from a friend of a friend of a friend that their crush likes them back.

"U-um. Mrs. Lee. What she said about you. You look good, really," somehow your nervousness made its way over to Jay now––his eyes flickering from yours to anywhere, anything, else in the room––the awkward tension growing tenfold each second.

Goddamnit Y/N, this is just Jay you're talking to, get a grip.

You're knocked back into reality when he slightly nudges your back to continue making your way to the main ball room, where the dinner is being held.

"Is that a compliment from the Jay Park?" Your smirk can't be seen by Jay, since he's still trailing behind you, but he can definitely hear it through your tone.

"Don't make me take it back," he chuckles, his words felt against your neck, leaving behind a tingly sensation you're not sure why you're feeling. You're glad he's behind you, so he isn't able to see the blush creeping onto your face for the second time tonight.

Jay gives a small nod to the people behind the check-in desk stationed at the entrance as the two of you waltz right into a large ball room lined with countless circular dining tables. So much for a small business dinner.

As the two of you approach one of the tables placed at the front of the room, you notice a familiar figure seated next to the seats reserved for you and Jay.

"Y/N!" Jake exclaims as he gets up from his seat to greet the both of you. "I'm so glad you made it, Jay was so excited to bring you tonight. Deadass would not stop talking about it."

Jay lets out a noise that falls somewhere between a cough and a goose being strangled, his widened eyes warning his talkative friend to just shut up. He's silently cursing the company for always seating his and Jake's family at the same table for these events.

"Aw, is that so? He's lucky he's cute or else I wouldn't have agreed," you grin, winking at your assumed boyfriend sitting next to you.

"Hey, YOU were the one excited to come! I recall a certain someone's face lighting up when I suggested we go shopping for tonight," Jay immediately retorts.

"Only because you were buying," you giggle, causing Jake to laugh as well.

"Damn, Jay. Tough," Jake jokingly adds as you laugh alongside him. The scowl sitting on Jay's face expresses the opposite of what he's feeling right now: warmth filling him up from the sound of your laughter and the image of you getting along so well with his best friend.

"I'm gonna get us some drinks, you two have fun making fun of me," Jay narrows his eyes at the two of you as he gets up from his seat. You bid him off with a smile before turning back to Jake.

"No but really though, this boy would not stop talking about you coming tonight. Then again, he doesn't really ever stop talking about you," Jake nonchalantly says, not knowing how much he was exposing his friend to you right now.

You raise an eyebrow up in response, "Oh really?"

"Seriously! I don't know what you did to him, Y/N, but this Jay I've been seeing recently is new. He complains a lot less about life nowadays, especially on the days he sees you," he leans back in his chair as his comment brings a smile to your face. Little does he know.

You stretch your neck up to find the boy in question and spot him right as he's returning to your shared table, two drinks in hand. You lock eyes with him from across the room and without a second thought, you're giving him a genuine smile that he's immediately returning.

Your heart beats faster at the view.

You wonder why.

It's 3:07AM when you hear the first ding.

You're not 100% sure as of why you're awake at this hour on a Tuesday night––perhaps a combination of your restless thoughts and feelings not letting you sleep plus the typical stress that comes hand-in-hand with the life of a college student.

It's 3:09AM when you hear the second ding, and you brush it off, assuming it was just Heeseung spamming you with memes again––something he does often when he also can't sleep (you found this out the hard way).

It's still 3:09AM when you hear the third ding, and at 3:10AM , you finally reach over and decide to acknowledge the being who's bothering you at this godforsaken hour.

Jay [3:07AM]: Y/N

Jay [3:09AM]: hi

Jay [3:09AM]: r u awake rn

Y/N [3:10AM]: unfortunately so

Y/N [3:11AM]: why are you up

Jay [3:11AM]: come outside

Y/N [3:13AM: jay it's 3am

Jay [3:13AM]: ye and? don't tell me ur a college student with a curfew

Jay [3:14AM]: plus im alrdy waiting for u outside so u have no choice

Jay [3:15AM]: :)

You groan at your bright phone screen currently illuminating your dark dorm room.

You ponder the consequences you may have to suffer tomorrow if you stay up any later than you already have. But considering the fact that you're probably just going to stay awake lying in bed for god knows how long anyways, why not?

(And you would like to point out that this decision has nothing to do with the fact that you haven't seen Jay in a few days and that maybe a tiny, tiny, tiny, part of you may have missed his presence. Nothing.)

And since that logic is obviously valid (you really gotta work on justifying your life choices), you're suddenly grabbing a hoodie from your closet and hoping it'll be enough to keep you, who's merely in an old band t-shirt from high-school and pajama shorts, warm.

The breeze hits your skin the second you open the doors to your dorm's building, and you're met with the view of Jay's sleek, black BMW that probably costs more than your tuition. He waves at you from the driver's seat, motioning for you to get in.

"To what do I owe you the pleasure at this hour," you deadpan at him with a stone-cold voice as you enter through the passenger's side door, hoping your tone was enough to hide the fact that you're giddy at the fact he invited you out at 3AM in the morning. Like a high-school girl sneaking out of her house to meet up with her bad-boy boyfriend that her parents dislike.

The second you enter his car, you're instantly comforted by the warm air blasting through his vents and his playlist softly playing in the background. Jay's pajama pants and messy hair give you more than enough information to know that he probably just rolled out of his own bed as well. You don't know why, but your view: Jay in his oversized hoodie with his unkept hair in front of your dorm building at 3AM on a Tuesday night, gives you comfort in weird ways you can't explain even if you tried.

But it's obviously just your cloudy, 3AM mind not thinking straight. Obviously.

"When I can't sleep, I go on drives around campus. It helps clear my mind," he says, looking over at you to give you a quick smile before starting his car. "Plus, SnapMap said you were still awake, so...figured you'd wanna join."

"Oh so what, you're my stalker now? You're not driving to the woods to kill me now, are you?" You tease, an eyebrow brought up. Jay lets out a laugh from beside you as he begins to drive further into your campus.

"Guess you'll just have to wait and see," he throws you a wink before reverting his gaze back to the road, mindlessly driving to wherever the road decides to take him.

A comfortable silence falls in between the two of you as Jay continues to drive endless routes around your campus. You look over to the boy driving next to you and take in his features––you don't know what changed, but you no longer feel the same anger or annoyance bubbling within you when you're around him. You're not sure when this changed, but you figure it's just the effect of desensitization. After all, you've been spending so much time with him, you're bound to get used to it. Right?

"Why were you up?" Jay finally asks after a few minutes of just the two of you silently basking in each other's presences.

"Ah, you know. The usual. Endless thoughts running through my mind, stress from school, nothing new," you sign, giving him a soft smile followed with a shrug.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

You answer him with silence as you search your head for the answer.

"I don't know. This is kinda weird, isn't it?" You don't know why you get a sudden surge of confidence, but before you can stop yourself, you find yourself rambling on. "If you had told me a month ago that I'd be here driving around with you when it's nearly 4AM, I would've laughed in your face."

Jay doesn't know whether to laugh or scoff. "Is the idea of hanging out with me that unappealing to you?"

You give him a serious look back. "I mean, up until a month ago when you needed me for whatever this game is, you literally pretended I didn't exist."

Oh. Awkward.

You freeze at your own words, mentally screaming at yourself for letting the words leave your mouth. Why, why, why.

"Y/N..." Jay says after clearing his throat after a few seconds of silence.

"No it's fine, it was a joke," you awkwardly cough and direct your attention to anything else around you right now. The view of your campus' buildings zooming by. The clicking of Jay's blinker when he switches lanes. The quiet roaring of his car's engine. The nervous tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel.

The rest of the ride is excruciatingly silent as he exits the main road and into an empty parking lot of some administration building made out of glass that has too many floors for you to count.

You don't know why you feel your heart beating in your throat as Jay puts the car into park––why you feel uneasy. You slightly turn towards him in your seat, hoping to pick up any sign of well...anything from him.

You don't know why you feel a twinge of guilt––it's not like what you said was necessarily wrong. If you were being honest, you were slightly bothered by how the two of you seemed to silently agree not to mention your past all this time. You were always one to seek answers, to seek closure. You couldn't help but bring it up––Jay was your best friend during those years. For him to just wake up one day and pretend you were nothing to him hurt you, and you couldn't help but still wonder what in the world you did to initiate his actions.

"I'm sor–" You're interrupted with his timid voice, as if he was almost afraid to speak.

"I'm not good with people." He's nibbling on his bottom lip, fingers nervously picking at a spot on the steering wheel.

You're opening and closing your mouth, unsure how to respond. You're 100% positive you look like a fish right now. Good for you.

"I don't know why. Jake calls it commitment issues but in order to have commitment, people have to stay in my life. And people just...don't. They're all bound to leave at some point. So what's the point of putting in effort into relationships if they're just going to leave you at the end?"

You're stunned by his sudden confession, not having been prepared for such a heavy topic to arise between the two of you. Up until tonight, your interactions had always been light-hearted and easy––you guys got along well. You didn't know this is how he felt all along.

But you knew where he was coming from.

You knew what Jay had gone through as a child––his mother having left him and his dad when he was young. You remember when your parents had told you the news at the young age of 13, and you remember the pain and sorrow you felt for your then friend. All you wanted to do was go to him and comfort him, but he had already cut you out from his life by then.

"Or maybe I'm the problem. My dad barely acknowledges my existence because he thinks giving me an allowance is all the parenting I need, my friends probably only stick around because they feel bad for me, you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the bet, and, fuck, I'm literally known as the campus' fuckboy," Jay continues, falling deeper and deeper into the hole he dug himself.

He hates this, he hates opening up and feeling vulnerable, so he doesn't know why he's doing it now. He doesn't know why he feels comfortable voicing out his fears and worries when he's around you. But he does know it's a new feeling––one he doesn't know how to deal with.

"Jay," you lace your voice with as much comfort as you can provide. None of this is his fault, you want to tell him. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything," he says with a hint of bitterness and you can't tell if it's directed towards you or the topic at hand.

You're completely turned in your seat now to face him––despite the fact that he refuses to meet your gaze, afraid that looking at you is gonna bring out the most vulnerable in him. "You can talk to me. Talking about it makes it a lot easier. I'll always be here for you, as a friend."

Jay doesn't know what it is or why, but something in him snaps at the sound of a certain word falling out of your lips. Friend. Friend.

Friends don't make his heart beat nervously whenever he's around them. Friends don't keep him up at 3AM in the morning, pondering about his feelings for them. Friends don't provide him with this new, warm comfort he's become accustomed to whenever he's around you.

Deep down, Jay knows you didn't mean to add fuel to the fire. But because he's strong-headed, stubborn, and hates how vulnerable he feels next to you, he unleashes his emotions without thinking about the destruction coming along.

"It's none of your business, Y/N. Forget I said anything. You're just a toy for this stupid game and when it's all over we can go back to our own lives and forget this ever happened."

His sudden words cut deep, but they hurt him more than you. The second the words tumble out of his mouth, he's hit with the feeling of instant regret washing over him, and the lump forming in his throat restricts him from finding the right words to take them back.

The silence that falls between the two of you this time is different. It's a cold silence. A loud silence.

Jay feels his walls coming back up around him––the ones you managed to get through––and all he wants to do is apologize but he's terrified. Terrified of seeing your reaction, terrified of losing you again. For the second time.

You tell yourself he doesn't mean it. You tell yourself that he's just enduring more pain that one should ever receive.

But you also tell yourself that this wouldn't be the first time Jay leaves you in the dust.

You tell yourself that you're foolish for ever believing a friendship, or more, could come out of this act at the end. That you're so naive for feeling those stupid, stupid butterflies you've started to notice in your stomach whenever you see, or even think of, him.

"Okay," you begin with a firm tone. You're hurt, but you refuse to show it. You won't let him hurt you for a second time. Not again.

"Just...find me when you need me. As your fake girlfriend or just...me. I'm still here for you," is the last thing you say before un-clicking your seatbelt and leaving his car, beginning your walk back to your dorm hall.

Jay is unsure about many things in life. He's unsure about what he wants to do in the future, he's unsure of where he's going to settle in life, heck, he's unsure about what to have for lunch tomorrow. But he's sure about one thing.

That he's wearing his heart on his sleeve right now, and it's all because of you.

That you've become this new lifeline and he has to choose between holding onto you or drowning.

When Jay wakes up the next morning, his first gut instinct is to get ready to pick you up for class. But today's different. Jay doesn't know where the two of you stand now, especially after last night.

Jay doesn't know how to deal with this combination of unknown emotions he's been feeling lately. They didn't come out of no where, by any means, he realizes. They've been slowly growing over the past month of seeing you so often––like a plant he's been watering overtime, not expecting it to bloom into a flower so suddenly––but he figured it was nothing more than just enjoying the company of a friend.

Until he realizes that the term friend just doesn't suite you anymore––not to him, at least. And that scares him. It scares him that you've made him genuinely smile more in this past month than he ever has in his 19 years of living. It scares him that when he's around you he can't comprehend his own thoughts, his feelings. It scares him that you make him vulnerable, that you've changed him. That you've managed to make the walls that he's spent so long building and polishing to crumble with a simple tap of your finger.

In a perfect world, Jay would have already told you all this––he would be unafraid of how you would react, unafraid of your rejection, unafraid of losing this growing relationship with you. But alas, we don't live in a perfect world. And so when Jay drives to class that day, he drives right past your dorm building.

"Where's Y/N?" is the first thing Jake questions when he enters Jay's car that morning, confused by your absence, having been used to you being in the front seat every morning when Jay goes to give Jake rides to class as well.

"I don't know," Jay mutters, unemotional eyes focused on the road in front of him, not interested in continuing a conversation that involves thinking about you.

Jake hesitates as curiosity gets the best of him. "Did you guys get into a fight or something?"

Jay's hands tighten around the steering wheel of his car. "Or something. Let's just leave it at that."

There are a few beats of silence before Jake speaks up again.

"Well, I guess this works out because I wanted to talk to you about something."

Jay continues to stare straight ahead of him, focusing on just trying to get by without mentally beating himself up at the simple thought of you.

The simple thought of you and your smile. Your witty remarks. Your stupid eye rolls. Your laughter. Your kindness. So much for not thinking about you.

"I'm calling it off," Jake's words catch Jay off guard.

"Huh? Calling what off?"

"The bet. I'm calling it off. I don't care about the textbook fees I'll have to pay next semester. Look, fight or not, you and Y/N are good for each other, everyone can see it. And I really don't want this to end up being one of those messed up teen TV shows where the girlfriend finds out the entire relationship was based off of a stupid game and then they break up and the boyfriend falls into eternal sadness and regret. And I don't wanna see you sad, dude. So yeah! Congrats," although he's admitting defeat, Jake's beaming widely, just content with the fact that his best friend has finally found happiness through the form of you. "You win."

But Jay feels like the opposite of a winner. Because even though his only intention coming into this was simply winning the bet, his life isn't as simple as it was a month ago. Because he discovered something much more valuable than some stupid textbook fees or five hundred dollars or getting his physics homework done for an entire semester.

Something he's scared he's already lost.

You.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next time you see Jay is at the same time and place as when he first ever appeared to pick you up––at 12:17PM on a Friday afternoon, as you're exiting the doors of the lecture building home to your awfully long Capitalism in World History class. This time, however it's different.

Because this time, it's one month later, and Jay Park is no longer a forgotten side character in the story of your life. This time, you're frustrated because it's been three days since you've last heard from Jay. And because it's been three days since you've last heard from him, you can't focus on anything else, and because you can't focus on anything else, you're falling behind on every other aspect in your life. Jay's somehow managed to become the center of your life without even having to be present.

Well, up until now. Up until you go down the steps of your lecture hall's entrance and look up to be met with a figure leaning on a car you're far too familiar with. You freeze in your steps as you make eye contact with the boy you've been thinking about non-stop for the past month three days.

Your mind tells you to walk away, to just follow your flight instinct instead of fight, to just go back to your normal life. But here's the thing. Ever since Jay's made his way back to your life, it's been far from normal.

And if you're being honest, you had no interest in going back to your normal life. Normal's overrated anyways. You find your legs bringing yourself over to him, your heart leading the way.

"Hi," you simply say, planting yourself right in front of him.

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?" You already know the answer, but you want to hear him say it.

"Waiting for you," Jay doesn't hesitate in answering you. This time will be different, he tells himself.

"I can walk myself home, thanks," you state, but your actions tell differently, as you make no sign of moving from your spot in front of him.

Jay's mind contemplates telling you everything. About how he regrets that friendship-breaking decision he made that one fateful day in the eighth grade, about his true feelings, about how he first suspected these feelings when he was 11 years old and saw you in your fancy get-up for the sixth grade dance but put it off as a little crush, and about how the same feelings grew into something so, so much more in the present. But seeing that putting all these thoughts into words would involve more than one functioning brain cell (which is all he's convinced he has in the moment, for the view of you staring up at him, looking like that, has his brain short-circuiting), he settles with:

"He called it off. It's over. The bet."

"Oh."

Silence.

Okay, Jay. This is your chance. Say it.

"Is that it?" You lift an eyebrow, awaiting for more explanation. When it doesn't come, you slightly nod and start backing away. "I'll see you around then."

Is that it? Do the two of you just go back to your respective lives now? How can Jay do that, when he doesn't even recall what his life was like before you entered it––and especially when he has absolutely no interest in going back to that life?

Fuck it.

"Y/N!" He stands up straight, a newfound confidence taking over. This time will be different, he tells himself. Because now, he knows what he wants. For sure.

You turn towards him, to see him already making his way towards you, stopping in his steps when he finds himself close enough to you that he can't concentrate anymore.

"I'm sorry for ditching you in the eighth grade. I'm sorry for ignoring you since then. I'm sorry for dragging you into this stupid mess and for pushing you away and I'm sorry for calling you a toy. Because it's far from truth. I like you. A lot. And––and I'm scared. I'm scared of what this means for us, because I just keep messing things up and all I know is that I don't wanna wake up tomorrow and realize you're not in my life anymore and––"

"Woah, woah, Jay. Slow down," you look up at him, the corners of your lips threatening to curve up into a smile. "You're an idiot, you know."

Jay's never really confessed his feelings to anyone before, per say, so he doesn't really know what to expect. But he's watched enough Netflix rom-coms in this lifetime (which is still not that many) to know that hearing the words "you're an idiot" isn't what you're supposed to hear after pouring your heart and soul out. Surely not, right?

"I––I'm not sure how to respond to that," he quietly says, searching your eyes for a sign, for anything. You giggle at his sudden shyness as you grab both his arms and look at him right in the eyes.

"It's okay. I get it, if anything, I'm also scared. But you somehow got me wrapped around your stupid finger, and I hate it," you smirk at him, your hands slowly making their way up his arms to circle around his neck.

Jay's hands naturally fall at your waist as he lets out a breathe he didn't even know he was holding as he returns your smirk. "Well, I could say the same about you. And I also hate it, for your information."

"Hmm, is that so? I guess it cancels out then, right?" You smile at him as he's pulling you in so close, your head turns cloudy.

Jay grins at you, his eyes holding so much joy and endearment as they quickly flicker down to your lips before returning to your own eyes. "I guess this only means one thing then."

"Mm, and what's that?"

And before Jay can answer––and because your life's been anything but normal lately––you make the first move this time, moving your head up to close the small gap between the two of you.

His arms instinctively tighten around you as you capture his lips with your very own, and Jay swears he's about to lift off into space right now. He's on cloud nine, and he makes no plans to touch the ground ever again.

The kiss quickly becomes fervent, all the pent-up tension that the two of you had for one another finally finding its way out, all the words that were previously left unsaid finally expressing themselves. You don't even care if you're being judged by the conservative faculty members of your school right now, or by the looks of fellow students walking past the two of you.

You try your best to keep yourself from smiling as he continues to press his lips against yours, his hand moving to hold your chin, guiding your mouth with his.

Before you find yourself getting carried away, you step back to take a breath, resting your forehead against his chest as his hands rest against your back. He smiles at the sound of you giggling against him.

Jay takes a step back to take one look at you and realizes, in this moment, that change can be good. And he's willing to undergo this change. As long as it's with you.

⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺ ⸺

The next morning, you bounce down the steps of your dorm building's entrance to meet the wide, bright smile of your ex-childhood-bestfriend-turned-fake-boyfriend-turned-real-boyfriend waiting for you in front of his car, small pastry bag in hand. You smile back at him.

Jay drives you to class that day.

And everyday after that.

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ :

✰ let me know what you think! if u made it til the end, mwah :') <3

4K notes · View notes

ddaenggtan · 4 years

Text

say you want passion (i think you found it) | M

you’re a tease. he’s tired of it.

pairing | shownu x fem!reader

wc | 6.5k

genre/warning | Covid doesnt exist sorry, big dick shownu, sweetheart shownu, dom shownu, sub reader, shownu is called hyunwoo in this, he also likes to be called daddy dont judge, sloppy blowjobs, but still, blowjobs, Shownu eats pussy like a CHAMP, Strength Kink, praise, degradation, degrading praise, this is HIGHLY specialized, you've been warned, deepthroating, DEEP deepthroating at that, nsfw pictures, aka shownu likes to remember it when he does a good job so he takes a picture bc it lasts longer uwu, talking with your mouth full (ill let u guess), doggystyle, teasing, brief nipple play, hickeys, begging, dumbification, rough sex, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, coming inside, gspot shenanigans, this is genuinely so unrealistic please do not think sex is like this ever in real life, i mean literally ever if you ever fuck someone and it's like this then they aren't real they're a fae or a god or some shit okay, aftercare, shownu uses 3-in-1 because He Does, Barely Edited by the grace of @personawife‘s beta that she fit in when she could ilu,

a/n | first n last shownu smut specifically bc its leilas birthday (@honiboyyoon). u better enjoy this. (side note for anyone who isn’t into shownu smut, but is curious: there’s a namjoon version on ao3 that i’ll link here), but this took entirely too much effort and i did my damndest to fit as many things that ur into in this one fic as i possibly could. i hope this makes up for u probably never getting the vampire maknae line foursome i kept promising you sdfkldjsfasdf

The front door opens as you step out of the car, and you grin as your boyfriend appears in the frame. He grins at you and your best friend and you search his expression for a sign of anything other than his usual sweetness, but find none. You resist the urge to pout - you won’t give him the satisfaction.

“Good luck!” Your best friend teases. You roll your eyes at her - she knows precisely what you envisioned upon arriving back to the quaint little house you call home with Hyunwoo. It’s the reason you wore this outfit, and tried on the clothes you did whilst shopping, and sent him selfies in the poses you did.

You’re on a mission, dammit. It’s been weeks - literal weeks, not even an exaggeration - since you were properly fucked, and you’re fairly tired of prancing around the house in your shortest shorts and deepest v-necks so that when you bend over just right to water your fern, he gets the perfect eyeful. It’s exhausting to try to send all these signals all day every day - but you know how flustered he gets when you ask him directly, so you tried a different tactic. You were being nice!

And it hasn’t worked. At all. He’s offered to help you water your plants, to let you borrow his flannel pajamas in case you’re cold, and even to buy you a sweater, at one point.

In August.

So suffice to say, you’re getting a little tired of him being oblivious. So you’d called up your best friend and invited her to go shopping with you, and yes, it was also very fun to hang out with her and get boba, but she’s also the master of hyping you up and making you feel sexy and desirable, so it was truly a win-win.

Plus, she color-coordinated her own houndstooth pantsuit with your pink houndstooth skirt/blazer combo, so really, you should send her a fruit basket or something. Maybe cookies.

The point remains that your boyfriend hasn’t responded to any of your borderline pornographic selfies or the very pointed videos of you holding various sex toys and asking if it would fit. You’re at your wit’s end, and you were really hoping that it would truly get through to him this time that you want nothing more than to be railed against the mattress so hard that you cry.

You’re a simple girl, after all.

But no! He’s got that sweet smile on his face as you carry your shopping bags in one hand and your purse in the other, carefully sidestepping the cosmos he’d just planted the other day so you wouldn’t step all over his hard work. His smile widens when you reach the door, and he presses a sweet, gentle kiss against your forehead that has you on the verge of tears.

He waves again to your best friend as she drives off, and as usual snags your shopping bags out of your hand so he can place them beside the door. You’ve already pulled your blazer off to hang in the entryway closet by the time he’s shut the door, and you gasp as you’re jerked back. His hands are on either side of your head, braced against the front door like it’s the only thing keeping him up, and you struggle to focus on anything that isn’t the way his muscles flex.

“Do you have any idea what today was like for me?” He growls. The sound of it brings heat between your thighs, and you resist the urge to cheer.

“Sorry, should I not have sent you any selfies today?” You ask, keeping your voice as light and innocent as you can. He makes eye contact with you; there’s a fire in his eyes you haven’t seen in what feels like forever. “Did you not like them?”

“You know damn well what I thought of them,” he mutters, one hand coming down to rest on your hip. “I’ve tried so hard lately, y’know? The tiny shorts with your ass hanging out, the shirts that show everything when you bend over. God, the bending.”

“Really?” You breathe. It’s always exhilarating to know that you’re desired, but this is nearly heady. He fixes his gaze on you, eyes burning, and your smile softens slightly.

“I was trying,” he says, clearly holding himself back, “To be a good boyfriend. To make sure that you know that I want more from you than just sex, and that I value you as more than just someone attractive. I was trying so hard to prove that you– that we have more between us than that. That I respect you more than that.”

“So don’t respect me.” You say it like it’s obvious, because it is. You’ve been laying down signals galore the past few weeks, and clearly he did not get the memo.

“I’m always going to respect you,” he says instead, sighing slightly as he leans in to press his forehead against yours. “I don’t want to disrespect you, you’re worth more than that. But fuck, all I wanna do is fuck you stupid right now.”

“Please,” you whisper, biting your lip. It’s all you’ve wanted for weeks and now you might finally - finally - get it. “Disrespect me, daddy.”

The hand on your hip tightens, no doubt bruising the skin, and you gasp at the feeling. Hyunwoo makes eye contact - just long enough to make sure that you’re on board for whatever it is he’s about to do.

He could probably suggest a number of things that you’ve never considered and you’d say yes, at this point - you’re not ashamed to admit that you’re desperate.

The hand on your hips lowers - he traces all the way down your thigh and to the back of your knee before travelling back up, this time under your skirt. He kisses you as he does it - long, heated kisses that make your head spin so perfectly that you don’t know what he’s doing until he glides a finger across your clothed core.

You gasp into the kiss, but it doesn’t deter him. He pulls down, kissing and biting down your jaw to your neck as his fingers trace over you once more. You can feel him smile against your skin.

“You’re already soaked,” he tuts. “You’ve ruined this pair, princess. How naughty of you. Would you like daddy to take them off?”

“Yes!” You moan as his fingers ghost over your folds once more.

“Yes what?” He asks, and you could cry with how much you want him.

“Yes, daddy,” you tell him, and he smiles once more. It’s blinding, how bright he is when he smiles like that, and for a second you’re breathless. Then you feel them - his hands, burning a trail along your thigh to tug at the band of your underwear. It only takes him a few seconds to pull them down as he bends, and he kisses your thigh as he brings one of your legs up so he can slide them off completely.

He was right - they are ruined, the evidence of your arousal immediately apparent by the large wet spot in the center. He doesn’t bother to slide them off your other leg, though - just lets them hang from your ankle, no doubt as a reminder of how strongly he affects you.

He presses kisses to every bit of skin he can as he stands fully upright once more, suckling a mark into your collarbone that you’ll absolutely cherish when you have to cover it up before work tomorrow.

His hands don’t leave your thighs - warm and strong and utterly distracting, you can’t take your mind off them as he kisses you again, heady and intoxicating. You feel it as one hand travels back underneath your skirt again, gliding between your thighs.

A moan sticks in your throat as his fingers slide in between your folds - the feeling of them teasing against your hole before they move to rub light circles into your clit is nearly too much to handle.

“Hyunwoo, please–”

“Patience,” he interrupts. You can hear the smile in his voice as he slides over your hole once more, spreading your arousal across your lips before teasing your clit again. “Good girls have patience, right, princess?”

You whimper, hips arching off the door to try to guide his finger inside of you. It’s a futile attempt - he just returns to the slow, infuriating circles on your clit, and you would cry if it didn’t feel as good as it does.

It could be hours or it could be seconds that he continues this pattern - slow, maddening circles on your clit, then the slightest bit of a tease at your hole, just enough to make you think that maybe he’ll fuck you with his fingers, before he returns to the circles. It’s enough to make a stronger woman cry, and you can’t help the whines that you let out when he once again deprives you of the fuck you so desperately want.

“Please just fuck me,” you finally break, hands moving from where they’re wrapped around his neck to circle his waist and do your best to pull him in closer. You can feel him against your thigh, warm and thick and big, and you want him.

He hisses when you grind against him, and the one hand that remains on your hip tightens ever so slightly. “You’re being very bad, princess,” he chastises, but you couldn’t care less. Your mind is focused on the memory of what he felt like inside you, and you’re ready to burst with need.

“I don’t care,” you tell him firmly, hands sliding up under his shirt to run your nails against his muscled torso. “I don’t care, I need you, please, I just want–”

“I know,” he cuts you off. His hands disappear from you entirely, but only for a moment - before you know it, two large hands wrap around your wrists, guiding yours out of his shirt. You can't stop whimpering, caught between the memory of the last time he was between your thighs and the reality of his lips against your skin.

Hyunwoo drops - he hits the wooden floor with a muffled thud, and before you can even react, his hands are underneath your skirt. He pushes it upwards, muttering something almost reverent about thighs as he does, and then he’s pressing soft kisses to the inside of your thighs. His hands don’t stop, though - they keep going, shoving your skirt up until it pools around your waist.

“H-Hyunwoo—”

“Ssh,” he whispers, giving your thigh a light bite. A heartbeat later and you can feel his warm breath against your folds. “You wanted to feel good, right?”

“Yes, please,” you breathe, hands instinctively tangling in his soft brown hair.

“Then be a good slut for me, and stay still while I make you feel good."

You stifle a whimper - he knows what his words do to you, and you jolt as his tongue gently nudges against your folds. There's no stopping the soft sigh that falls from your lips as he delves deeper, ghosting across your swollen clit to nudge against your hole. He's tentative, teasing with his movements - he likes to make you wait, tease you until you're grinding against his mouth.

You doubt this will be an exception.

A moan is thrust out of you as you feel your hole stretch slightly. Not much, not far - just enough to accommodate him as he fucks your hole with his tongue. It's just the right side of unsatisfying - you're aching, absolutely dripping for him, and this is just enough to whet your appetite and make you hungry for more.

You can feel his smile against you, and you already know what's coming - still, it's disappointing when he pulls his tongue out. You whine, unashamed of how you must sound or how loud you may be, and he chuckles.

"Patience, baby girl," he breathes. Warm air flows over you, and your hands move to tangle in his hair. His tongue shifts again, lapping at your clit for long enough that you think you may cum before he stops to draw mind-numbing circles around it instead.

Time bends around the two of you - it always does when he's between your thighs like this, when he's teasing and deliberate with every swipe of his tongue against you, every press of him against your hole. He edges you for so long; slow circles around your clit turn to quick thrusts inside of you that shift into laps against your hole that drag upward, just barely catching your clit before they stop.

You're sure there would be a puddle on the floor were it not for his dedication. The entire house is filled with the sounds of his mouth against you, only drowned out by the sound of your cries as he begins to suck on your clit.

Your knees quake on either side of his head, and he doesn't hesitate to bring his hands up behind your thighs. Without a second thought, he lifts - not even pausing in his mission, tongue still thrusting into you at an almost absurd rate - and then your thighs are resting atop his shoulders. You gasp, both in shock and in pleasure as he lets his teeth graze ever so lightly against that bundle of nerves.

This isn't the first time he's done this - put you on his shoulders and left you there while he eats you out within an inch of your life - but it's the first time in a long time, and it has you seeing stars as one of your hands stays tangled in his hair and the other is braced against the wall beside you.

"Hyunwoo, please–" You beg, but you can't catch your breath long enough between moans to say anything more. He sucks again, the flat of his tongue gliding over your clit as it's pulled into his mouth once more, and your vision goes white. Your knees quake, and you're sure that if you had been standing, you wouldn't be anymore.

"That's my girl," Hyunwoo praises after he's done cleaning up your cum. When you can see again, you realize he's set you down on the floor and is slowly massaging your thighs.

"Hyun, I....please....can you–"

"You want me to fuck you stupid, baby?" He asks. His tone is a little patronizing, but that's okay, because it only serves to turn you on more. "Does my sweet little whore need my cock in her?"

"Yes, please," you whimper, hips tilting upwards against nothing of their own accord.

Hyunwoo stands and hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his grey sweats. A few moments later he's pulled them down just enough to free himself. Your mouth drops open slightly when you finally lay eyes on him - you know he's big. You know that he is big, you've had his entire length inside of you several times now and you've felt it for days after each time, but it still never fails to shock you.

Because he is big. Thick, so thick you can hardly wrap your entire fist around him, and long, with the perfect curve that hits that spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. His dick is nearly as perfect as he is, and that is a very high bar.

It's also so hard that you can see it throbbing, jumping every so often as his muscles tense.

"You want me to make you come with my cock, right, baby?" He asks, once again using that patronizing tone that makes heat creep across your cheeks.

You nod.

"Then you're going to have to ask nicely, aren't you?" He prods.

"Please, daddy," you say without hesitation, "Please fuck me, I want you to make me cum so hard that I cry, I want to be a good slut for you."

"Very good, baby," he praises. "Now I want you to prove that you mean it. Can you be a good little whore and suck my cock?"

You lean forward, not even bothering to use your hands because your bones still feel like jelly. You run your tongue across the tip of him, giving small kitten licks to the slit just how he likes. A groan rumbles through him, and he lets out a soft gasp as you slip your tongue down to wet the shaft as well.

"Fuck, princess," he moans, "I think you've gotten even better at this."

Encouraged, you let your mouth hang open– just barely wide enough to get your lips around the shaft– and let your tongue rest on your spit-slick lips. You glance up long enough to see that Hyunwoo's eyes are blown wide with his desire before you mouth sloppily down his dick. It's messy and would probably be disgusting if it were anyone but the two of you and Hyunwoo didn't have that look in his eyes that promises you'll remember tonight for several weeks.

His hands move, one adjusting his grip on the doorframe as you suck the head of his cock between your lips while the other comes down to grip one of the two buns you put your hair in that morning. He tugs - not hard, not yet, but firmly enough that it stings slightly and makes you keen.

"If you're going to make a mess, don't you think you should clean it up?" He asks. You lift a brow and he grins. "Clearly you're not that tired if you still have an attitude."

"No," you whine, "I am tired, my bones are basically nonexistent right now thanks to you."

The hand in your hair loosens slightly, and Hyunwoo tuts. "I have to do all the work, huh? Then get on your knees for me, baby girl, so I can use you like a good toy."

You rush to comply, and only wince a bit at the feeling of the cold floor against your knees. His hand stays where it is the entire time you're moving, but he waits until you're sitting still, legs folded under you and giving you that extra bit of height you'll need.

"Let me know if it's too much," Hyunwoo commands, and you nod. His eyes darken, slightly, and he runs his thumb along your jaw. "What's the signal?"

"Two taps on your thigh," You tell him, not for the first time. He's always so careful beforehand, and while you appreciate just how much he cares about you, you also are sick of just staring at his cock, and your mouth is beginning to water.

Hyunwoo coos slightly, and the hand in your hair shifts to guide rather than just anchor. "You're always so good for me," he mutters as he slides the tip past your lips. "Always such a good little slut."

You don't stop the whimper that escapes your throat – he loves them, and you know it. Your mouth is lax, nothing more than a hole for him to fill as he sees fit, and there's the slightest twinge of complaint as your jaw begins to stretch.

You ignore it, determined to get as much of him as possible this time. You've practiced for this, nearly every day, since the last time and you're not stopping until you beat your record.

Hyunwoo sighs as he hits the back of your throat. "God, you're perfect," he mutters as he begins to slide back out. You let your jaw relax a bit as he does, and when just the tip rests on your tongue, you give it a small kiss, just because you can.

Hyunwoo smiles, gaze softening for a split second. "Hands in position, baby girl," he reminds you, and you do as he says – one hand on back of each of his thighs, so you can tap out if you need to.

Also so you can feel those incredible muscles flex as he starts shallow thrusts, rippling and tensing under your fingers. If your mouth weren't otherwise occupied, you'd bite them.

Hyunwoo continues carefully, testing just how much of himself can fit before you start to gag on his length….and just how long you can choke before you really start to need air.

He pulls back before you even need to tap out, always careful to keep an eye on you for any warning signs. He slides back in and waits until he hits the back of your throat again, pushing slightly further, and just as he's about to begin pulling back out, you look up at him with wide eyes.

You know you look like a mess; drool gathering on your lips because your mouth is too full to hold it, tears streaming down your cheeks from your attempts to stop gagging. Hyunwoo loves it when you look ruined like this, adores taking your perfectly crafted image and crumbling it to pieces in his hands.

So it's no surprise when he lets out a low moan, or when he lets himself slip a little further down your throat. This is as far as he's ever gotten and you want him to know how good you are, how hard you've been practicing with the toys underneath your bed. He slides out, precum dripping onto your tongue as he does, and you bat your lashes at him.

"Use me," you tell him. "Use me like the toy that I am for you, Daddy." Something darkens in his eyes and he doesn't hesitate to thrust back in.

Your eyes water with the force of it and you don't stop the moan that escapes you as he slides deeper down your throat than he's ever been before. There's still a couple inches left before he'd be fully sheathed, but Hyunwoo doesn't even seem to notice as he pulls out just to thrust back in.

Neither of you are quiet — you can barely hear the wet squelch of your mouth. It's drowned out by the moans he draws from you, which in turn pull moans from him between the words he growls out.

"God, you're so perfect," he mutters as he fucks your throat with abandon. "The perfect angel slut, so good at getting throatfucked, just made for my cock no matter where it goes, huh? You're such a good whore, you're probably fucking soaked just from my dick in your mouth, aren't you?"

You whimper around him and he speeds up, relentless; he's not wrong either — you are soaked, can feel it between your thighs as your hips rock fruitlessly against empty air.

"Oh, look at you," Hyunwoo coos, "So desperate to be fucked while sucking me off. Maybe one day I'll get one of your buddies over here to fuck your throat while you ride my cock, since you're so desperate to get used like a good slut. But I don't even think that'll be enough, will it? Because they won't be me." He thrusts a little deeper, a little rougher, and you aren't sure if the noises you're making are as loud as they seem to you but either way, they only serve to egg him on.

"No," Hyunwoo continues, "They won't be Daddy, will they? They won't be able to get this deep in your throat, won't be able to fuck you like this. And you know why? Because this is my hole." He punctuates the sentence with a sharp thrust and you squeeze the backs of his thighs to show your agreement. "You're my perfect slut. My good little whore. Isn't that right, baby girl?"

You squeeze the backs of his thighs again, but it isn't enough. He stills, still buried nearly to the hilt inside you, and cocks a brow.

"Well? Aren't you my perfect whore?" Your face flames, heat burning in your cheeks. Your jaw aches from being stretched for so long, there spit and precum dripping down your chin and you can feel him throbbing in your throat.

And Hyunwoo looks expectant. He wants to hear you agree with him, wants you to remind yourself of this fact.

You don't even blink when he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his sweats. You can't see what he does, but based on how he angles it and the shallow thrusts he gives without looking away from the screen, you can guess.

"Aw, is my baby girl getting shy now?" He teases as you make eye contact with the lens and feel your face heat up. "Don't even worry about it, baby. I just wanna remember how fucking perfect you look right now forever. My perfect cocksucking slut."

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing and you're overcome with a sudden need to feel him inside you.

"Are you gonna be a good slut now?" Hyunwoo continues, still recording. "Are you daddy's good slut?" You nod and can't stop the reflexive swallow as he goes even deeper. Hyunwoo groans at the feeling and you can see his grip on his phone tighten for a moment.

"Say it," he commands when his eyes open once more. "I want to hear you say it."

" 'm 'a'y's 'er'ec' 'ore," you moan. It doesn't even sound like words, at this point, but when you look back up at him with wide eyes. Hyunwoo looks proud.

"You absolutely are," he whispers. He hits a button and then pockets his phone again. He slides carefully out of your mouth and casually strokes his cock with one hand as he wipes spit from your face with the other. "I think you've been a perfect angel, baby girl, so you've earned your reward. Where would you like it?"

"Bed, please, Daddy." Your voice is hoarse and scratchy, but you don't care, and Hyunwoo doesn't seem to either as he pulls his sweats up and then bends. The world spins for a moment and then steadies, and you realize he's got you in his arms. Hyunwoo carries you like a princess towards the room you share, and tosses you on the bed without hesitation.

Your eyes widen as he starts to strip out of his clothes, and you can't deny that you enjoy the show. The torso of muscles all rippling, the golden skin all shining, the desire in his eyes. Then the sweats — they hit the ground with a thud and you idly hope his phone is alright before you remember there are more important things right now.

He is, unsurprisingly, still hard — almost painfully so, a deep swollen pink at the head and jumping every so often. The vein running up the underside is throbbing, and you can actually feel yourself get wetter with anticipation.

One knee rests on the mattress, then the other, and Hyunwoo is crawling towards you on his hands and knees, and you can see every muscle as it shifts and fuck you love this man.

"I love you," you tell him, not for the first time. He breaks for a second, a bright smile taking over his face.

"I love you," he replies, pressing a kiss to your thigh. "Can we take those clothes off now, baby, because as great as you look, you're even better naked."

Breath catches in your throat and you nod. Hyunwoo is almost reverent as his hands glide up your thighs and is exceedingly gentle as he slides down the zipper and then the skirt itself. He smiles again, almost shy, and you can't help but marvel at the fact that this is the same man who bad you gagging on his dick not five minutes ago.

He leans in and gently nudges your nose with his, but when you lean forward to kiss him, he backs away with a playful grin. His warm hand rests on your waist and he leans in again only to dart back when you try to kiss him — not far, though. He's still close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath mix with yours, but it's still infuriating.

You pout at him, and his smile just grows. "What is it?" He asks, teasing. "What do you want?" His lips ghost over yours as he speaks and it nearly breaks you.

"You," You whine. "I want you."

"You have me." He leans forward then, capturing your lips with an intensity you haven't seen in a long time. His mouth moves against yours and it's firm, commanding, and absolutely intoxicating as he pulls back just to lightly bite your lips. It's not rough, not really, but it's fiery and exciting and everything you've wanted.

He presses closer, nimble fingers undoing the buttons of your blouse in what seems like an instant. Warm hands cross your spine and then your bra is gone, too. His skin seems to meld to yours, hands moving everywhere as he lays you back.

Your breath hitches when you feel him against your entrance and he smiles into the bruise he's sucking into your throat.

"You're so fucking wet, baby," he breathes as his tip teases against your entrance. "You're always so wet for me, so ready to be fucked. Just a perfect fucking whore, huh?" He slides in then, but only a bit. Just like before, it's just barely enough for you to feel him stretching you out. Just a tease of what's to come.

"Hyunwoo," you whine. You can see the amusement in his eyes as he chuckles.

"What is it? You want more?" He slides in further, but just a centimeter. You whine again, pushing your hips up against his to try to push him deeper. You can feel yourself throbbing, aching, for him, and you're tired of being teased. You want to be full.

You tell him as much, watching his pupils dilate with every word until there's hardly any iris left to be seen.

"Is that so?" He mutters, almost to himself. "Well, your wish is my command." He slides in, slowly, but this time he doesn't stop. He just keeps going and going and going, until you can feel him at your cervix. It stings – you're stretched so far, and he's so deep inside – but you relish it.

"Beautiful," Hyunwoo mutters as he begins to slide back out, inch by agonizing inch. You whimper as the tip nearly slides out, too, and your hips lift of their own accord. Hyunwoo takes the hint and pushes back in; he creates a rhythm, one so slow, so maddening, that you're on the verge of tears as you whine and whimper underneath him.

He notices your frustration, pulls himself away from lazily mouthing at your nipples, and hums.

"What's wrong, baby? You aren't satisfied yet?" He gives you that Boy-Next-Door grin that you know hides a demon behind it. "Are you going to ask nicely again? Tell me no one fills you up like I do and beg me to fuck you the way you want? You look so pretty when you beg."

Any other time, you wouldn't. You would at least hesitate, make him work a little harder for your pleas. But you're desperate and frustrated and have no shame, so you don't hesitate.

"Please, Daddy," you beg, letting your legs fall open and arching your back so his eyes drop lower and lower. "Please, Daddy, no one can fill this pussy like you do, no one can fuck my holes like you. Pl–please," you moan as he slides entirely inside once more, "Please fuck me right, make me come on your cock, I wan– wanna be fucked stupid, want you to– to fuck me stupid, please, wanna be Daddy's perfect slut, pl– Ah!"

You can't help your surprised gasp as Hyunwoo flips you onto your stomach with a low growl.

Warmth drapes along your back as you rise up, palms splayed across the sheets and elbows locked to keep you upright; his skin is sweat-slick and heated against your own, and a shiver runs down your spine when he pauses to runs his teeth along the lobe of your ear.

"You are the best part of my life," he announces.

Butterflies explode in your belly a split second before he slides out of you.

"And I'm gonna make you cum so hard that you'll never forget that fact."

"Hyunwo— Oh!"

He thrusts into you with enough force to toss you into the headboard, had he not planted one hand firmly on your hip and had the other curled around your breast to tease your nipple.

"You like that?" Hyunwoo asks with a smile in his voice. He repeats the movement and you clench around him as you gasp out a moan. It's all you can do to nod and he flicks your nipple in response. "Good."

He lifts up, both hands now holding you steady by an iron grip on your hips, and readjusts his legs so yours are spread slightly wider. Your arms are trembling but you pay them no mind.

Until Hyunwoo thrusts forward, pulling back just as quickly only to bury himself again, a heartbeat later. His pace is absolutely merciless; the sound of skin hitting skin fills the room, mixing beautifully with the wet slide as he shoves back in and the rough, throat moans that he pulls from you. Your vision swims, and you can't concentrate on anything else as he gives you the fucking that's been haunting your dreams every night.

He adjusts his grip, one hand moving to sit firmly on the small of your back and press you down just a bit. The angle shifts – not much, but enough that the next time he pounds into you, he thrusts right up against that spot that makes your toes curl.

You cry out, vision going white as he hits it again, and again, and again, absolutely ruthless in his mission. Your muscles go weak, biceps twitching as they give out, and then you're face down in the mattress. Hyunwoo doesn't hesitate, just ghosts his palm down to rest between your shoulders and keep you in place.

He might be talking – you certainly think you hear the low tones of his voice as he speaks to you, but you can't make out words. It's too much work, too many syllables, too much effort to try to work past the haze that blankets your mind. You can still feel him, pumping in and out of your gushing pussy — the stretch barely stings anymore, and he throbs inside of you. Each thrust is still perfectly angled to hit that mind-numbing place that keeps you from doing anything more than screeching his name.

He slows, immediately switching from speed to power as he manages to put even more force behind his hips. The hand in your back moves, as does the one on your hip and then you're rising.

A warm palm across your throat – not choking, just keeping you in place while the other traces along your spread thigh.

There are words – something your brain is too fried to make out, and then a rumble that vibrates through you. A laugh. His thrusts get a little faster as he fucks up into you, and you're dimly aware of his fingers slipping between your folds.

Someone screams — no, not someone. You. You scream, something so loud and provocative that it can't even be called a moan anymore, as he begins to rub circles around your clit. Orgasms rock through you, every part of your body going boneless even as you shake from the force of it. It's impossible to tell when it stops, if it stops – the aftershocks are strong and he still hasn't stopped fucking you, though he's slower and gentler now, letting you ride it out on his cock.

"……perfect for me, " you hear him whisper as you're senses come back. "Absolutely perfect, an amazing fucking— just divine, you are."

"Hyun," you manage, and it's no shock that you sound absolutely wrecked. "D– Daddy."

"I'm here, baby girl," he mutters, "What do you need?"

"You," You respond instantly. "Want you, wanna fee– feel it, want you to fill me, please, in– ah, inside, want you dripping ou–" You're cut off once more as your body heaves with yet another aftershock, clenching around his hard length again.

"Whatever you want, baby," he promises. "Can you come once more for me, baby girl? Just one more time so we can come together?"

"Mm…." You pause, taking the best inventory you can as your muscles jolt again. You consider lying to him, or just omitting this, because you know he'll never stop reminding you of it, but decide against it. Instead, you quietly admit, "I don't think I ever stopped."

"Oh, fuck," he breathes. Within moments, you can feel his thrusts turn more erratic, more frenzied, and then you're impossibly fuller even as something warm drips down the inside of your thigh.

He's gentle as he lays you down on the bedspread, exceedingly so as he pulls his softening cock out of you. His weight disappears from the bed for a few minutes that seem to stretch into hours, and then the mattress dips, and his soft smile appears once more.

"Here sweetheart, drink this." He hands you a familiar cup and when you take a sip, the water is cool and refreshing. Wet warmth, surprising but pleasant, glides along your inner thigh and you look down to see him cleaning you up.

"Mm, this is quite possibly the perfect view," you tease, wagging your brows as you make a show of checking out his muscular arms. It makes him laugh, the soft one that's just for when you're being ridiculous.

"Drunk your water, you menace," he commands as he continues to wipe. "You're gonna need to replenish your fluids, after all that." He looks pointedly towards the bed and you follow his gaze, face heating when your eyes land on the rather sizable wet spot staining the sheets.

"Whoops?" You offer. When you look back at him, he only looks fond.

"Don't even start, it was hot. Besides, they needed to be put in the wash anyway. I'll start them after you get into the bath." He gives over you, taking kisses along every piece of skin he can until he reaches your lips. You can't help the way your breath catches – even after all this time, he manages to make you breathless over the smallest things.

He peppers kisses along your cheeks, and nose, and everywhere else until you're giggling and trying to turn away from him. Unfortunately, with his arms on either side of you, you're fairly well trapped, so you settle for fucking your head into his neck instead.

You pause. Sniff again. Back up. He looks sheepish, like he already knows what you're going to say.

"We were out of the fancy stuff—" He tries, but you don't let him.

"You used that 3-in-1 shit again?" You demand. "Actual body wash isn't even fancy, it's what normal people use! That's it, you're coming into the bath with me after you start the laundry so that I can make sure you didn't use it in your hair, too."

He smiles again, though you have a sneaking suspicion that he's just humoring you when he nods and says, "Whatever you want."

#shownu smut #shownu x reader #reader insert #dddaenggtan

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redxblueihateloveyou · 3 years

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Hiiii!!! 💫💕🌸🥳

Can I bother with a question... I was (re)watching that zhang qiling edit (not today) - 'cause it's so cool, btw- and I wondered if Reboot Xiaoge’s your favourite one...? And if you're up to answering, what do you think about the other adaptations? Especially (our small bean) xiao yuliang's interpretation of xiaoge?

🤗🌺💐🐰💕

Hey, my precious patootie hehe ILY it always makes me very happy knowing that you rewatch my vids <3

lol dang it, I was kinda hoping to avoid this question, just because I feel like I'd find it hella hard to explain some things, but I'll try my best and hopefully it'll make some sense xD

I'll start from afar bc I wanna try to explain my reasonings, since I don't want to go without arguments into such highly debated question lolz. I talked about this a bit in my previous asks somewhere, but not broadly as to why that one guy hit all the right spots.

So throughout the books Wu Xie always does this wonderful thing, where he very tangibly describes the feeling he gets when Xiaoge is near, I mean like the aura around him. And he always somehow does it so colorful, that this mix of safety, assurance, calmness, composure and some things I can't quite put into one noun, that he brings to him, I think everyone who've read the books can recognize as this almost magical "Xiaoge feeling". It's not just the way he acts in some dangerous situations or smth like that. It's just everything. You either have it or you don't. And here goes my first argument... to me none of them, except for Huang Junjie and Yuliang have it.

I mean it's not even the obvious stuff, it's like the way they move during the action scenes, the way they even stand and hold themselves, the way they touch Wu Xie, the tone of their voices (both of which are like soothing as fuck), little things you'd think wouldn't matter, but when you watch it and all the puzzle pieces are together, you're like... fuck yeah, thats him.

Also not really that weighty of a point, but to me there's always a joy to see that the actor who plays the character not only gets what's he's playing, but also loves it, bc it's always seen on screen. Usually when some asked about the character they play and what they have in common for example they answer with obvious things like if some character is introverted they're like "well I also don't talk very much" or smth like that, you know what I mean. When I was watching interviews of Yuliang and Huang Junjie I was just smiling so much, bc they've said such things that made me go "yeah, Qiling is safe in their hands".

In Reboot case working in such close proximity with the author definitely also played a huge role here. Bc it kinda gets complicated in some aspects since the books are written from Wu Xie's point of view and you can't only base your picture on his perspective, just bc it's coming from a person who after being basically told "you're my whole world" goes "I'm just a person he randomly passes by in his long life" in his thoughts. Not only he's utterly clueless and dumb when it comes to all this, that he wouldn't notice the way Qiling looks at him and other things, its also not that kind of book, that would go "I suddenly caught poker face looking at me like I'm his whole existence" (and I honestly don't want it to be that book lmao). So you have to take into the account here stuff like what author says to get the whole picture, bc if you look at that from the point of Qiling's view for example, this shit takes a whole wild turn. So I really loved that in UN and Reboot ways of showing Qiling's feelings were well thought out and fit the timeline.

Bc it also works both ways, when it comes to other adaptations. Like Qiling is very and I mean ETREMELY hard to win over. We all know that it was a very long process of gaining his trust and even longer for him to fall for Wu Xie to the point of him being his everything. So what I want in those interpretations is for them to get at which point of their relationships what Xiaoge's behavior makes sense. I do not need any fanservice if it ruins the character, I'll just hate it. The thing that their feelings didn't come out of nowhere is what I LOVE about this ship, bc I'm not the kind of person who believes in "we love for nothing" thing and love at first sight thing (only "got hots for each other" at first sight), bc thats bull. Wu Xie became his everything after a long LONG process of getting to know each other. At the beginning tho he was the same stranger to him as everyone else. So what Reboot Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie yet and what UN's Qiling feels for Wu Xie is not what Lost Tomb's Qiling feels for Wu Xie (which at that point was nothing). And I feel like not everyone gets the fact that you can totally wreck the character if you make him behave not the way he behaved in that particular time. Like for example, if someone would make a MDZS adaptation where at the very beginning of their relationships LZ treats WWX the way he treated him after the reincarnation just because "who cares, it's still LZ", that would be dumb af, see what I mean. So Xiaoge having a weakness for Wu Xie in part one is automatically not a Xiaoge to me, bc a huge part of his character and the thing NPSS speaks a lot about is just how IMPOSSIBLE it is for someone to catch his attention and how long it took Wu Xie to get there. So let's just say to me UN and Reboot Qilings for the first time didn't feel like some mashup or character summary/parody, they were Qilings the way they are supposed to be in that part of the story, bc it was the only times someone actually bothered to coordinate it.

Now as to why I prefer one to another. Xiaoge has this thing... the way he holds himself with other people, that is sometimes intentionally and sometimes unintentionally suppressing.

Like everyone knows that if you're a passerby, Qiling genuinely doesn't fucking care and would in fact be pretty harsh about it in terms of treating people like they do not deserve their attention. He won't be like "please, don't bother me", he simply ignored them like an empty space. He is also like that with acquaintances who in his opinion do not deserve his respect like that girl who went hysterical, bc she was upset that he was the only one who wasn't drooling on her like all other men on the crew, Chen Wenjin, Wu Xie's uncles and etc. He's not openly disrespectful unless they trigger him in some way (usually by trying to act superior or later on for not treating Wu Xie right), but if they do, he will in fact remind them their place in sometimes a very rude way, at times humiliating them in front of ppl bc he looks younger than them and talking starts.

He's always doing things on his own terms and hates being told what to do. Like he legit scared Chen Wenjin just with a look and the tone of his voice when he said "let go", when she tried to command him on the mission and grabbed him trying to lecture him about what he should or shouldn't do. That's why Wu Erbai didn't even try anything like this and let him do whatever he needed to do and equally lead the mission in Reboot. And why the scene where Wu Xie 'commands' "Xiaoge, come back" and he immediately listens holds another special place in my heart. Bc he NEVER and I mean NEVER allows such things to ANYONE.

So here I came to a point of why despite loving them both dearly, my favorite Xiaoge is Huang Junjie.

I have this dissonance with Yuliang's version when to me in many scenes it felt like he and Wu Xie are the same age. Like if he was Xiaoge, but in his 20s. In his interactions with Chen Wenjin the dynamics was turned upside down, with him being okay with her telling him what to do and just in general the way she behaved with him. Same as like I didn't always quite believe him to be on par with older generation or even Pangzi, it just felt like he was truly younger than them. Some scenes that I do find extremely cute just don't fit book Xiaoge at all, I'm talking about some moments like his face when Wu Xie gave him food, or him pouting and many things he's done, when you were going "uwu he's a baby". He just never gives me this feeling in the books ever, not just bc he's 100 years old, but sad fact here.. bc he's simply unable to behave that way. Like in the books you'll desperately want to shower him with love, but he's just... I can't quite explain, it's very sad.

I guess it's just you know these characters, who are like hundreds years old, but look like they're 18? I think you have to be very careful with how you write those, so you could deliver that. And in UN because of some changed dynamics and scenes I straight up forgot about it, until Wu Xie threw some joke like "he's an old man" in front of a restaurant.

In Reboot Xiaoge could make Wu Erbai stutter with one move, put Yuliang's version in the same scene, I just don't think it would've worked. Like I'm trying to imagine him telling UN's Wu Erbai what to do and having troubles already haha. Same as I don't think he's capable to be genuinely mad at Wu Xie, and HJJ nailed it esp in one of my fav when Wu Xie was laughing at Pangzi's joke about him catching cold. The look he gave him and how ZYL just retreated was priceless xD. And boy could Qiling get angry with him in the books!

Otherwise I didn't have any drastic fall outs there, like with Joseph's Wu Xie and Ah Ning's death, because that was just too much of a difference, but there were still moments where it was once again this the same scene completely different emotion thing. He was more tolerable to ppl in general here, more pliable. And 50% of the time he gave me the cute lost kitten type, which I just cannot connect with the feeling he gave me in the books. His personality is a cat type 100%, but like seriously "cute baby" is the last word combination I would ever apply to book Xiaoge, but with Yuliang's version it's easily applied. So small bean he is indeed. With Joseph and in UN it works incredibly perfect to me, but the way he is in UN is at times too gentle. And there are lots of scenes where Joseph himself looked at him in a way "you're too cute, let me pinch your cheeks" kind of way, or the way he like sat down next to him on the coast, he was a bit babying him at times. I can't imagine book pingxie doing that. It's just a whole different vibe, the way he takes care of him, the way he lets him take care of him... it's...uuuuuuuuu another vibe (see, I'm so good at explaining lmao).

It's also kinda funny to me, bc HJJ who's the smallest and who irl truly a kitten never once gave me that feeling on screen for some reason. The one babied and loved by every crew and old ppl, who was cutely hiding behind ZYL's back on set, who won't sue an ex who almost ruined his career bc of how stupid she is, bc he "didn't want to hurt her", who according to staff can't even step on a fly, whom CMH was petting for several minutes after he had to hit him with a prop brick bc he didn't wanna do it lmao. I was just like.. ok, this is hilarious, bc I in fact didn't expect him to be a small bean, so watching all the bts made me go LOOOOL. Probably ZYL acting like a 3 year old helped him transform and the age difference problem got lost lmao

As for other adaptations. You know I can't watch seriously "Lost Tomb", I think some ppl probably have some nostalgic feeling about it, but I'm sorry, to me it's fucking hilarious. Like I've already said it looks like some type of twilight parody thing or smth. Soft damselle Wu Xie esp killed me, bc 1st when he ever was that, 2nd in the first book he's salty af, I don't even know this dude in this interpretation, I was like who's this. YangYang I know him from other things, I really don't think it's his role. I know the script and everything is bad. I know the costume and hair are horrendously funny, but it's just I was watching him in those action scenes and was like no... just I'm sorry but I'm not feeling it. I simply just don't know what to say about the whole thing seriously, bc I don't even know where to start. 10 episodes of some salad finished with one mutilated scene from book 6 for no reason the fact that characters are weird themselves also I can't quite tell, did they really just meet or they imply smth else lmao.. I'm sorry, but I do not get it.

I've given LT2 another try after finishing all the books and I've dropped it half way through, Cheng Yi wasn't even close to how I pictured Xiaoge in any aspect. He in fact didn't do anything OOC or off the book or anything, I just was like "not my Qiling". Happens sometimes.

Explore with the note you already know how I feel about this lol let's just forget.

P.S. To be fair here also maybe we should take into account the fact that some got luckier than other with "at which point" Xiaoge they're playing. Like for example, "Wrath of the Sea" and "Qingling Tree" books which is LT2 is not exactly you can say much about Qiling there, he trolls them there in the beginning (in a brilliant way that was totally lost in the adaptation) and he is there in "Wrath of Sea", but it's not the part that can make his character shine in any way, there's not much things happening there that would make you fall for him or get to know him; Yuliang grabbed the fattest piece bc it's middle several books, when they're always together and his character shines the most in terms of clues about past, opening up to Wu Xie and Pangzi, and there are many many events where you can get the picture of what kind of man he is; Huang Junjie grabbed my fav piece of utter devotion, where he's already fully and wholeheartedly belongs to Wu Xie, that I'm just weak for. So like... there's also that I guess xD.

#answered #jaecomments #zhang qiling #daomu biji #dmbj #lost tomb reboot #i still feel like i couldn't quite explain stuff lol #its a complicated question xD #do not kill me for my i guess weird opinions haha #huang junjie #xiao yuliang #lost tomb #pingxie

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maastrash · 4 years

Text

Fighting Fire with Froyo

oh my goodness hello friends plz dont roast my title bc @verryberriess already has LOL it is ✨quirky✨ anyways the first fic back is always rough to write and i got tired of editing so without further ado ...

Nesta pried the uniform hat off her head and wiped the dripping sweat from her brow. By the cauldron, it was burning up today. It amazed her that the frozen yogurt wasn’t melting right out of the machines. That probably wasn’t even possible, but the heat was making her delirious. Of course on the hottest day of the year something was wrong with the AC. She added calling the maintenance guy to her 5-page long mental list of things to do after her shift today.

She truly did not have the time to be working on the service line today. The Archeron sister froyo shop had opened almost a year ago and already she was talking to people about expanding it to become a chain. That’s what she should be working on instead.

Nesta supposed she should be happy their little shop was so popular. The sisters had been so nervous when they were finally able to launch their yogurt shop after years of planning. It was a dream come true.

They named it Archeron Delights and it became one of the most popular dessert places in Velaris. Elain was the mastermind behind the frozen yogurt recipes. People came from all over the country to try their unique flavor combinations. Feyre was in charge of all the interior designing. She remodeled the entire space and made it look modern with colorful signs and trendy photo taking spots - a necessity for kids obsessed with instagram worthy pictures. Nesta was the official manager which meant she dealt with finances, hiring the team, making schedules, and other administrative duties.

To be honest, Nesta never really worked at the counter, but Morrigan their newest hire, and Feyre’s best friend was sick with the flu. Definitely not a good idea to put her near customers. To make matters worse, the shop had been extremely busy today so she didn’t have time to take any breaks. Unlike her sisters, Nesta was already not the cheeriest service worker. It’s why she worked in the back in her quiet, private office.

At least she could distract herself by filling out their monthly budget summary while waiting. However, her calculations were soon interrupted by the cheerful bell dinging, meaning the shop door was being opened. Damn another customer.

Nesta began quickly finishing up the section she was on, “Hi I’ll be with you in one -”

“You need to get out of here,” the customer interrupted.

Nesta’s smile dropped so fast. Who did this man think he was?

“No, you need to get out,” she snapped back without looking up from her papers. If he was gonna speak to her like that she was gonna take her sweet time.

“Excuse me I -”

This time Nesta interrupted. “This is my shop and I say you need to leave.”

“Ma’am if you would let me explain -”

“Stop calling me ma'am, you have no right -” This time it was Nesta who trailed off.

She finally looked up to see a man equipped fully in firefighter gear staring right at her. Shit. She just yelled at a fireman. To make matters worse he was handsome. Extremely handsome.

“There’s a small fire in another location 2 units from yours. We’re containing it, but you still need to evacuate,” the man explained.

Nesta was still gaping. It seemed she was unable to form words. How was this man so attractive? He was wearing full protective fire gear and wasn’t even breaking a sweat and here she was, literally dripping.

To be quite honest she couldn’t tell if she was sweating because of the heat or the fireman’s burning gaze.

“Ma’am can you hear me? Ma’am? Oh for goodness sake.”

Before Nesta knew it she was being lifted off her feet. Literally.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Ah so you can still talk.”

“Put me down you oaf.”

“Oaf?” he raised a brow, “That’s a real nice way to thank the person saving your ass.”

“I’m serious,” she said crossing her arms angrily.

“Let’s get to safety first.”

Nesta gave the man a withering glare, but he continued to carry her bridal style to a tent where it seemed other shop owners were gathering.

“Oh my goodness Nesta are you hurt?” Aelin asked as they approached.

Aelin owned a dress boutique in the same plaza and they often grabbed lunch together. She was Nesta’s best friend.

“No I am being harassed,” she deadpanned.

“She means saved,” the firefighter corrected as he finally set her down.

“Woah he’s hot,” Aelin whispered in her ear.

“Shut up or I’m telling Rowan.”

“Just an observation” Aelin laughed.

The man gave them a polite smile before heading back towards the rest of the firemen.

Nesta stopped him before he got too far. “I want to talk to your boss,” she said sternly.

“You mean the captain?” he asked.

“Yes.” Obviously.

“Why do you need the captain ma'am?”

“Stop with the ma’am, I’m serious.”

“Ok fine. What’s your name?”

Nesta stayed silent.

“Ok then, sweetheart. Why do you need the captain?”

Nesta growled at his stupidity. “I am not your sweetheart and I am reporting you for inappropriate behavior.”

Something like amusement crossed his face, but it quickly vanished, “I see. I’ll be right back then.”

For someone about to lose his job he did not seem the least bit frightened.

***

It was only a few minutes before the man returned. He was still wearing his fire pants or whatever they were called, but the protective jacket was gone. Now he wore a tight shirt that read Velaris Fire Dept. It framed his muscles a little too perfectly for her taste. How was this man real?

“The captain is busy at the moment but I will take your complaint and hand it to him myself,” he said, pulling out a pen and paper.

“How do I know you’re not going to rip it up as soon as I leave?”

“You can watch me hand it to him once we have this mess sorted out,” he assured her.

“Fine.”

“First I will need your name.”

“Nesta Archeron” she grit out.

“Nesta. I like how that sounds.”

She rolled her eyes. This man was absolutely insufferable.

“Ok, now your phone number.”

“Why do you need my phone number?”

“So the captain can contact you about this issue, of course.”

She grabbed the paper from his massive hands and scribbled her number down quickly.

“Ok and what are you complaining about?” he asked, clearly amused.

She rolled her eyes, “You already know what I’m complaining about.”

“Well, I need to write it down word for word,” he said, laughing softly.

His laughter was the last straw. “You know what this is ridiculous I’m going to find the captain myself,” she said, stomping off.

“That’s gonna be hard to do sweetheart,” he called after her.

“Oh yea, why?” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“Because I am the captain.”

That stopped Nesta dead in her tracks. She turned slowly to see the big oaf smiling.

“Cassian Nazari, Captain of Station 17,” he said, extending his hand.

“Are you playing a game or something?” she scowled, slapping his hand away.

“No,” he chuckled softly, “Just doing my job.”

“By pretending to not be the captain and stealing my information?”

He smiled again and half of her wanted to slap him, but the other half was tempted to kiss him. What was wrong with her?

“I take complaints seriously. So seriously, that I would like to hear all about your complaint over dinner.”

“This is not funny,” she said crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t tell me you’re not interested. You took one look at me and were absolutely speechless. I literally had to carry you out before you burned to death.”

“The fire was contained, evacuating was a formality you brute.”

“If you say so,” he said sarcasm lacing every word. “I’ll pick you up from your shop at 6.”

Nesta’s jaw dropped, the audacity of this man was astounding. She paused before answering, debating her options. She figured she could either continue pretending to hate him or just give in. Gods above, was she actually considering this?

“Say yes you idiot” Aelin whispered.

Nesta flinched in surprise. Where the hell did she even come from?

“Are you kidding I’m not going anywhere in this.” Nesta argued, gesturing to her work apron and leggings.

“I think it looks great,” Cassian said with a wink.

“Me too,” Aelin added.

Nesta gave Aelin a deadly look before saying, “Let’s meet at the Sidra at 7. That way I have time to change.”

Cassian only looked surprised at her suggestion for a second before agreeing, “Ok, I’ll see you there.”

He waved before heading back to the rest of his crew and Nesta against her better judgement waved back.

“Nesta Archeron, are you smiling?” Aelin teased as soon as Cassian was out of ear shot.

“Shut up. I am absolutely not,” she said, quickly bringing her face back to neutral.

And then it hit her...

She was going to dinner with Cassian - a fire captain she just met. What the hell was she thinking?

tags! @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy // @girlnovels // @julesherondalex // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5 // @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlovex // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // @wannawriteyouabook // @verryberriess // @courtofjurdan // @bookstantrash // @sannelovesreading // @ahappyhistorianreader // @cass-nes // @my-fan-side // @junsuichow // @sleeping-and-books // @yumna402 // @lordof-bloodshed // @emcarstairs578 // @gisellefigue08 // @maybekindasortaace // @starborn-faerie-queen // @empire-of-wildfire // @loveofbooksandwine // @sanakapoor // @silentquartz // @a-omgnaomithings-love // @aimee1602 // @jlinez // @creamcheesechicken // @steamedlattes // @sahsahprova // @elriel4life // @ireallyshouldsleeprnrn // @rowaelinismyotp // @thegoddessofyou

#nessian #nesta x cassian #Car writes #nessian fic #nessian fanfiction

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fangirlandiknowit101 · 3 years

Text

Here's the sad pining sasuke i wrote last night... it's not finished and who knows when/if i'll finish it. university AU, not edited and there's some naru//hina and sasuke//OC bc i couldn't think of a canon character that fit. The texting part is also weird bc i wrote it all very fast lol. i'm sharing bc why not *shrugs*

xxx

It hurts, to look at them.

Sasuke can’t help himself. Naruto is his best friend, after all, and he’s not yet so desperate that he’ll avoid him. It’s worse, somehow, that he can’t even dislike her.

She’s good for him, he thinks, when he’s feeling particularly self-deprecating. Her hair is dark and her skin pale as porcelain, and that’s where the similarities end between him and Hinata.

Sweet, and so patient with Naruto. Soft-spoken, but not a pushover. Impeccably dressed, always, no make-up needed to outshine any girl beside her. A picture perfect couple, that’s what they are. It wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t have to watch it unfold from the front row.

How her shyness turned to surety, how her eyes would catch on Naruto and look away before, but now – now she looks at him like he belongs to her, soft smile on her plump lips.

Sasuke can’t even hate her, and he wishes he could.

It’s not her fault that Sasuke is the way he is. She doesn’t know, isn’t doing it on purpose. And yet, there’s a stab to Sasuke’s chest every time she takes his hand, every time Naruto tucks her silky hair behind her perfect ear.

Naruto will kiss her cheek and Sasuke will be looking, always looking. His face devoid of emotion, his voice carefully neutral. He can’t be mean to Naruto’s girlfriend, though he wishes he could. Maybe if Naruto got mad at him and pushed him away, Sasuke would be free to move on.

It’s more likely that Sasuke would apologize and do better, and he’d rather spare himself the embarrassment.

Sometimes he imagines that Hinata will find out, that she’ll start treating him with suspicion, watch his every move with her wide eyes. Feel threatened by him. But Sasuke is no threat. He’s tired and hurting, but he’s not a homewrecker. It would be a lot easier if Naruto didn’t keep nudging him in Sakura’s direction.

It’s not Sakura’s fault, either. She’s dreaming of something she can’t have, and the similarities make him sick to his stomach.

Sometimes he thinks he’ll date her, live the lie to the fullest. Give her what she wants, since he’s doomed anyway. He doubts he’d last long, though. If he had even the slightest bit of interest in women – but when he looks at her, there’s just no attraction. He’s not sure how no one’s noticed yet. It’s not like he’s that good of an actor. He thinks the only reason no one’s figured it out is because he’s so deep in the closet, and they’re all so heterosexual. Why would they suspect he’s gay? It suits them better if he isn’t.

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late already,” Sakura says beside him, breaking him out of his thoughts.

The bar is lively around them, but the music is at a bearable noise level. She’s looking at her phone, frowning. On the other side of the small table, Naruto pouts.

“It’s not late!” he objects, the beer in his glass sloshing around as he waves his hands around. “We just got here!”

“We’ve been here for three hours, I think,” Hinata says, leaning her cheek on his shoulder.

Sasuke wonders how she manages, the way he moves around so much. Perhaps her body is as soft as her voice, easily following him.

“I told you I have to get up early tomorrow.” Sakura sighs, irritated. She fishes her bag up from the floor, putting her phone inside it. “I really have to get going.”

“I’ll walk you to the station,” Sasuke offers. Not because he particularly wants to, but he’s not in the mood to subject himself to third-wheeling Naruto and Hinata. “I should get going, anyway.”

“What?” Naruto looks disappointed, more disappointed than when Sakura announced her departure. “I thought you were free tomorrow.”

Rolling his eyes, Sasuke swallows down the last of his drink.

“Doesn’t mean I want to stay up all night,” he counters with, easing out of the booth. “I still have to study.”

“You study too much,” Naruto mutters, giving Hinata a smile like an afterthought when she squeezes his arm.

“Maybe if you studied at all you wouldn’t need to panic before every exam,” Sakura nags at him, coming around the table to wait next to Sasuke. “Some of us care about our grades.”

“Nerds.” At least Naruto looks a little happier, and Sasuke hates to think that it’s because he thinks anything’s going to happen between him and Sakura. “Don’t get lost, you two!”

They say their goodbyes, and Sasuke tries to pretend he doesn’t notice how Sakura’s cheeks fill with color when they step outside the bar. She’s put a jacket on, but Sasuke’s fine in his sweater. It’s not cold enough that her blush can be blamed on the weather.

“Thanks for walking me,” she says, hefting her bag higher up her shoulder. She’d joined them straight from the library, researching her latest paper. “You didn’t have to.”

“It’s fine,” he tells her, hands tucked into his sleeves.

He doesn’t want to run the risk of her attempting to reach for his hand. As much as he dislikes her attention, it’s safer if she thinks he’s just playing hard to get. He won’t have to explain, then, why he hasn’t outright told her to give up. He should, he knows. But Naruto would just nudge him towards some other girl, would bother him about it until Sasuke started going on actual dates. It’s touching, how worried he is over Sasuke potentially being lonely.

Too bad Naruto himself is the cause of it.

“You’re not doing anything tomorrow, then?” Sakura asks, stepping aside as they meet a group of half-drunk businessmen. “I’m working until five…”

It would be so easy to invite her out. To suggest a movie, or trying out that new café near campus. To watch her eyes light up with hope, watch her mouth stretch into an excited smile.

“I really do need to study,” he says. “And I’m almost out of clean clothes.”

None of it is a lie, technically. He’s just not sure he’ll actually do either of those things tomorrow.

“Oh.”

She tries to hide her disappointment, and Sasuke is an expert by now at pretending he doesn’t notice. They walk the rest of the way in silence, waving a quick goodbye at the ticket gates as Sakura’s train is due to arrive in just two minutes. Sasuke buys a drink from a vending machine and takes small sips as he waits for his own, mindlessly scrolling through social media. He almost ignores the text Naruto sends.

> Wanna hang out tomorrow?

He contemplates it. On the one hand, yes, of course he wants to. On the other, having an entire day to himself has its appeal.

> I’ll be busy

> Ooh, with sakura?

The train arrives, and Sasuke snags a seat next to a couple too caught up with each other to pay attention to him.

> No

> Got studying and laundry to do

The reply is instant.

> That’s too boring!!! I’m coming over for lunch

> Whatever

He pockets his phone, and stares down at the bottle in his hands for the rest of the trip. It doesn’t help against the warmth rising in his chest. At least he doesn’t do this to Sakura – doesn’t invite himself into her space, ignorant of her feelings. It doesn’t make him feel better.

xxx

Sasuke doesn’t have a lot of friends. He’s got Naruto, and then there’s his small group of friends from high school. Naruto is the only one who still lives nearby. Rather, Sasuke had ended up staying in Konoha like him. It’s a big enough city that most of his classmates are strangers, although slightly less so in their second year. He stayed with his parents for his first year, but when one of his cousins moved abroad for work he took the opportunity to stay at her apartment instead. It’s closer to his university, and if he, potentially, wanted to bring a guy home then no one would know.

He doesn’t think his parents would mind, but there wouldn’t be any privacy. He relishes in it, and Naruto does, too.

“I should just move in with you,” Naruto groans, spread out on his couch. “You wouldn’t believe how annoying my mom was this morning.”

“I think I can believe it,” Sasuke tells him, cleaning up after their lunch. “And just to be clear, I’ve never said you’d be welcome to live here.”

“Stingy,” Naruto grumbles. “How long is your cousin gone, anyway?”

Shrugging, Sasuke dries off the counter just for something to do with his hands.

“A year at least. We’ll see. So it’s not like I’ll be living here forever.”

“But still!”

“Where would you even sleep?”

Naruto happily pats the couch. When Sasuke scowls at him, he simply grins.

“Come on,” Naruto says. “I want to watch a movie.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said I need to study.”

Still, he gives in too easily. Naruto lifts his legs to give him room, dumping them all over Sasuke’s lap once he sits down. It’s things like this that makes Sasuke’s heart refuse to give up. He leans his elbow on the back of the couch, cheekbone pressed to his closed fist. He doesn’t say anything when Naruto picks a drama at random, letting him comment on the plot as much as he wants. Watching movies with Naruto is certainly never quiet, and he winces as Naruto kicks his legs as he shouts his anger at the main character.

When the movie ends, Naruto doesn’t start a new one. Instead he chews on his bottom lip, playing with the remote. Sasuke considers getting up to use the toilet, maybe suggesting going to the corner store for snacks, but then Naruto clears his throat suspiciously.

“What?” he asks, irritated when Naruto takes his time.

“So, how are things going with Sakura?”

He resists the urge to pinch his nose. He still lets out a heavy breath, not quite a sigh but close enough that Naruto frowns.

“I mean,” Naruto continues, “you could just ask her out. She’s definitely going to say yes.”

Sasuke shifts, uncomfortable. Naruto’s legs are still on top of his. His socks have little frogs on them.

“I’ve told you I’m not really into the idea of a relationship right now.”

“Uh-huh.” Naruto rolls his eyes, pushing himself up and finally removing his legs, crossing them at the ankles instead. “Sounds like excuses to me.”

“Just drop it, Naruto.”

“But if you get together things will be so much easier,” Naruto insists, poking at his arm. “We can go on double dates, and stuff.”

Sending him a glare, Sasuke pulls a leg up to his chest. It won’t prevent Naruto if he decides to get comfy on his lap again, but it might make him think twice at least. Naruto’s only wearing shorts, and all that naked skin isn’t good for his heart. It’s definitely too cold for it, but Naruto’s never been one to care about the weather.

“We already go places together.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same!”

Sasuke pinches his lips, looking away. If he’s not careful, those large blue eyes will convince him to cave in, and then he’ll find himself with a girlfriend. He does a lot for Naruto, but there are limits.

“I’m not going to ask her out,” he mutters, knowing it will only lead to more questioning.

Sure enough, Naruto makes a noise of protest.

“But you haven’t rejected her either!”

“She hasn’t asked me out either.”

“It’s obvious she likes you.”

“That’s her problem.”

Naruto kicks at his thigh, using his heel. He looks properly annoyed now, as if Sasuke is a petulant child, refusing to do what’s best for him.

“If you got over yourself for a minute, you’d realize what a catch she is!”

He doesn’t reply. Let Naruto think he’s just stubborn, or an asshole, or whatever. Let him think Sasuke’s just stringing her along, keeping her attention while refusing to commit. It’s better than the alternative.

“Leave it, Naruto,” he warns, getting up and moving to the kitchen. “We’re not talking about this.”

At least Naruto doesn’t follow him, though it doesn’t make much of a difference. The apartment is small, no wall separating the kitchen from the living room. He searches through his cabinets, locating a forgotten bag of wasabi peas. He throws them at Naruto’s head.

“Eat these and shut up,” he says.

To his relief, Naruto does as told.

xxx

He picks up the call from Karin half-distracted, mind still stuck on a question for tomorrow’s seminar. As usual, she doesn’t wait for him to say hi, making her wince with the volume of her voice.

“Do you have any idea how tiring it is to listen to Naruto whine about you?” she starts with, the background noise suggesting she’s outdoors. “Can’t you just tell him you’re gay and put me out of my misery.”

“No thanks.” He drops his pen on his desk, rubbing at his eyes. He regrets not going to the university library, at least then he wouldn’t have been able to pick up the call. “Was that all? I’m kind of busy.”

“You know, this is exactly why I moved away,” she continues, ignoring him. “I thought I could get away from all the high school-level drama. Just get yourself a boyfriend, and go on those stupid double dates my cousin is so desperately yearning for. How hard can it be?!”

He can feel a headache incoming, and he rubs his fingertips between his brows. Naruto had sulked for hours the day before, until Sasuke got sick of it and threw him out. It was definitely backhanded of him to call Karin and complain.

“If you really wanted to be left out of it, why are you calling me? That’s the opposite of not getting involved.”

“Because it’s really painful and I’m morally obligated as the only person with functional brain cells to tell you to move on. Juugo’s too nice to say it and Suigetsu would give you terrible advice and sit back and watch. I’m being nicer to you than you deserve.”

“By telling me to move on,” Sasuke deadpans, wondering why his parents couldn’t have settled down somewhere else.

“Well, someone has to do it! Clearly I’m the gay cousin in the family, so you’re screwed. Might as well get over it and get laid.”

“I really hate you sometimes, you know that?”

She huffs at him, traffic and broken conversations filtering through the phone. There’s the jingle of a shop’s door, and the noise cuts off.

“Your pining is just getting sad,” she eventually replies, distractedly. “Trust me, I know my cousin. He’s not worth it.”

Something unpleasant churns in Sasuke’s stomach. He wants to argue with her that he is worth it, but he doesn’t want to land himself in an hour-long lecture if he can help it. He rolls his neck, making a face. She’s got a point, but he doesn’t enjoy hearing it. His life would be a lot simpler if he could find someone who made him forget about Naruto. He’s just not sure it’s fair to expect someone to instantly replace a lifetime of friendship.

“I don’t think I should have to come out just because Naruto irritates you,” is what he says instead, leaning back in his chair. “What if my parents find out and disown me? You want to be responsible for that?”

“Sasuke,” she sighs, “your brother is literally gay and your parents love his boyfriend.”

“So?”

“Stop. Making. Excuses.”

He bites his cheek, holding back a denial. He’s not worried about his parents, he’s worried about Naruto’s reaction. That things will change between them. That he’ll think Sasuke has feelings for him, which would be correct but would also ruin absolutely everything.

“I’ll… consider it,” he concedes, after a long silence, during which Karin has finished buying whatever it was she needed.

“Really? Because I’m going to hold you to that.”

He sighs.

“Next time I’m not picking up when you call me.”

xxx

A few weeks pass, and not much changes. Naruto still takes up too much space in his head and life, Sakura continues to drop hints but refuses to make the first move, and Hinata is still as lovely as ever. She doesn’t seem to have much of a personality other than being Naruto’s girlfriend, but to be fair Sasuke hasn’t precisely paid attention or tried to get to know her. Naruto’s birthday is drawing closer, and he can’t bring himself to do anything to break the status quo before then.

He’s been considering it, though. It would be a relief to stop pretending. He can’t imagine himself finding a boyfriend, though, because where would he even meet someone? It’s too awkward to use a dating app, and he’s not precisely social. He doesn’t have any experience, either, if you don’t count those childish games they played sometimes when they were younger. And that one time Naruto kissed him by accident when they were twelve.

Because of this, he’s really not expecting it when one day in class, just as the lecture ends, his eyes fall on the messenger bag that the guy next to him has just finished packing. There’s a rainbow pin on it, and Sasuke blurts out his question before he can stop to think about it.

“Are you gay?”

He only lifts his eyes from the pin when the surprised silence stretches out a bit too long. Their eyes meet, and the other boy is staring at him like he’s not sure how to react.

“Uh,” he says eventually, fingers clenching around the bag’s strap. “I mean, yes? But if you’re thinking about the pin it’s just a regular rainbow…”

He trails off, and Sasuke feels his cheeks heat up a bit. He can’t believe he just asked, when he himself has gone to such lengths to make sure no one made such assumptions about him.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s fine.”

Maybe he should know the guy’s name, but he doesn’t. He’s pretty short, hair dyed a light brown and glasses perched on his nose. Cute, but Sasuke’s not sure he’s his type. He’s not sure he has a type, other than Naruto.

“Are you gay?” the guy asks him, eyebrows rising above the frame of his glasses.

Sasuke licks his lips. He could say no, but to what end?

“I am,” he forces out, breathing in a deep breath.

“Oh.” There’s red color blooming on the other boy’s face, his eyes flickering to the side for a moment. “I was kind of hoping, but, um… I mean, hoping sounds weird! Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to ask outright.”

When Sasuke stands up, he realizes he’s almost a head taller than him.

“I’m Sasuke,” he offers, clicking his laptop shut and slowly sliding it into his bag.

“I know. I mean! I’m Hiroshi. Nice to meet you.”

Sasuke nods, and awkwardly turns to leave. Hiroshi stops him with a hand to his arm, though, and Sasuke swallows nervously as the turns back. He’s not interested in Hiroshi, not really, but he’s never been asked out by a boy before and the novelty of the situation is getting to him.

“Do you, um, are you busy right now? We could have lunch?”

He weighs the pros and cons in his mind. As nervous as Hiroshi looks, there’s a determined glint in his eyes that sways Sasuke over.

“Okay,” he says, and just like that he’s doing what Karin told him to do.

He’s trying, at least.

xxx

Over the course of a week, including having coffee together and a visit to the aquarium, Sasuke learns a lot about Hiroshi. Or Hiro, as he likes his friends to call him. They don’t have too much in common, but they’re both gay and studying agricultural economics. Once Hiro gets over his initial shyness, Sasuke finds he’s got a great sense of humor and won’t hesitate to poke fun at him.

It’s a breath of relief, to spend time with someone who doesn’t know him from before. He didn’t realize how much he needed it – just being able to be himself, without constantly keeping himself in check.

He can’t fool himself to think it’s enough to replace Naruto, but maybe he doesn’t need to replace him. Maybe it’s enough that Hiro seems to like him. He doesn’t really think about it, when he invites Hiro over on a Saturday night, after they’d had dinner at a nice udon place.

“Oh, wow,” Hiro says as he steps into Sasuke’s apartment, making an impressed face. “Nice place.”

“It’s my cousin’s, so no need to sound so impressed.”

Hiro rolls his eyes, taking off his shoes and jacket and following Sasuke inside.

“Alright, I’ll try to keep it in,” he teases, sitting on the couch when Sasuke motions him towards it. “But it must be nice, to have your own place like this. The dorms are fine, but I can’t exactly bring guys there.”

Humming his agreement, Sasuke grabs two cans of soda from the fridge, handing one of them to Hiro when he sinks down on the couch next to him.

“Want to watch something?”

Hiro nods, and Sasuke brings the TV to life. He’s not expecting anything to happen – they’ve only known each other a week. He’s still coming to terms with having a friend other than Karin he can talk to like this, and she doesn’t really count since there was never the potential for anything to happen between them. Hiro is… potentially someone Sasuke could date. At least there’s nothing wrong with him, not yet, and Sasuke’s easing himself into the idea of getting to know him better.

He finds a movie at random, some sci-fi that doesn’t look terrible. The movie turns into background noise as they talk, Hiro’s eyes watching his face more than the screen. It’s nice, in a new, exhilarating way, to have a guy’s attention on him like this. He’s not sure what to do with it. When Hiro moves closer, knee touching Sasuke’s thigh, hand resting on the back of the couch and occasionally touching his neck, Sasuke can’t find it in him to move away.

It feels like a secret, shared between the two of them. He thinks of Naruto for a long moment, allows himself the pain lacing through his chest as he imagines light brown hair replaced with blond, dark eyes replaced with blue. Then, he pushes it away, tells himself he can have this. The emotions are only his own.

It’s all happening too fast when Hiro grows bold, leaning in to press their mouths together, but he doesn’t care. It’s no one’s business if he spends the evening on his couch with a boy in his lap, a boy who isn’t his best friend.

The pain is easier to swallow if he tells himself that he’s the only one hurt.

#at this point i'm just writing whatever's in my head #something is better than nothing #i hate tumblr's formatting

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nonbinarychaoticstupid · 4 years

Note

do 41 for catradora

ghost/living person au

behold! another thing i banged out and didn’t edit! kjjdnjjhdn this was fun! i decided to call it hello, my old heart after this song because i am cruel

(also... i think after i write the sequel bc i can’t just leave it like that i might expand this at some point or maybe write multiple versions? i like this a lot jejtnjrtnrnnm)

Adora doesn’t remember most of her childhood. Or much after that, really.

Everything up to the age of 18 is a... haze. Memories of life, of friends, of her identity, are either buried so deep she has to struggle to find them, or gone entirely. Faces, names, places, all gone somewhere she can’t follow.

It’s a given at this point, another piece of the debris of a life her carers left her with. She can’t fix it, and she can function without knowing her neighbour’s favourite colour, so why does it matter? It doesn’t hinder her too much, nor does it really make an impact on her functionality. It does annoy her, though, for reasons she can’t really explain.

There are things left behind in the fog of memory she... needs. Things that might explain this hole in heart, this deadening sense of loss that seems to follow her everywhere now. Things that might make everything make sense again.

Specifically, there’s... a memory of the traces of a memory. Someone Adora hurt, or someone who hurt Adora, or maybe both. And the girl who walked by her side for the first 18 years of her life, the girl who vanished at the drop of a hat, the girl she didn’t allow herself to grieve for.

She knows how important the girl was to her. And missing her, dreaming about her without knowing why, hurts more than the loss. There’s something... something between them she has to fix. And it might hold the key to everything.

If she could remember, if she could find those shattered memories and piece them back together, she might remember why they took her past from her, and why Catra vanished. Why Catra died.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She doesn’t know exactly why she came here, to the shell of the abandoned home on the hillside. Maybe because it holds her last memory of a memory of Catra, alive and standing in front of her, laughing as she turns to push the door open. Maybe because it’s where she feels her memories... return, in whatever capacity they are able to,

It’s darker than she remembers it. The hole in the roof has since been covered with tarpaulin and framed with a web of crumbling scaffolding, leaving dark, angular shadows climbing the walls and forming ominous shapes on the floor. Adora couldn’t begin to try and decipher the patterns there if she tried.

If she focuses, she can trace the paths they left in the dust together as kids, winding around battered marble columns and up the staircases and back down again, like trails in the snow.

Like...

Adora pushes back the tears. Why am I crying? What is it about this place that-

Oh.

A memory. Of... her.

“You’re trying to remember me, aren’t you? Stars, I’m so sorry, Adora.”

If she focuses, she can remember the first day they came here together, a pair of awkward 14 year olds with too much energy and too little time, and hid in the shadow of the stairs on the left, waiting for the night to pass. The details are blurred together, half-buried under a white haze, but if Adora tries, maybe she can -

She can’t.

“You can. If you want, you can. What they did to you - it isn’t permanent. You can break out of it if you try. It’ll hurt, but you can. I did.”

She shakes the - the memory (a memory, nothing else - something she’ll have to sit and examine later) off.

Adora picks her way across the floor, careful not to disturb the spiderweb of shadows. It feels... familiar, instinctual. Something more than muscle memory. Almost... almost like she’s being guided by the past she can’t reach.

There are memories here. Adora can feel them in the back of her mind, pushing her gently forwards, urging her on.

She makes her way into the centre of the main hall of the building - it was a mansion once, she realises - and tries to picture it as it was before - well-lit, grand, beautiful. She tries to see it how Catra would have (because she knows how much she loved this place, even if she doesn’t remember it), filled with stars and candles.

Adora switches off the torch and stretches out her hands, as though feeling her way forward, except there’s nothing to touch but air. And it feels... heavy. Like she’s being watched.

Except there’s no-one here. She’s alone.

I’m alone. I’m alone... right?

“No.”

A growing feeling of terror rises, unbidden, in her chest, and she whirls around, brandishing the torch in front of her like some sort of sword, doing her best to clamp down on the cry building in her throat.

Nobody. Nobody’s there.

“I am. I’m right here. Adora, I’m right here -”

Adora lets her shoulders drop. She feels... defeated, for some reason. Empty.

But the feeling doesn’t go away. And she can’t leave until something happens. She can’t leave until - until she gets her answers.

“What answers do you want, princess?”

Okay, the voice was definitely real that time.

Adora spins around again, nearly dropping the torch, and - there she is. Or rather, a memory of her - a girl no older than seven, with a tangle of dark hair and vivid heterochromatic eyes, her outline flickering and fading and -

She reaches out to touch her - and is met with empty air. The girl meets her eyes, and something in them looks so desperate that it makes her breath catch in her lungs, and then she just - vanishes. Melts into nothing.

She almost cries out. Almost fucking sobs. Because she was right there, all the answers could have been within her reach, and she just watched the girl she almost remembers melt into dust-

“Not her,” the voice tells her gently. “She’s not real. She used to be, but she isn’t now.”

Adora shakes her head and doesn’t answer.

“There are more of them here. Memories. Kinda.”

“What happened to her?” Adora whispers. They’re the first words she’s spoken in a while, and her voice sounds disjointed and out of place, echoing over and over down the hallways.

Something settles on her shoulder (at least, she thinks it does). “She’s... a fragment. That’s the only way I can think of describing it.” A laugh, one she... recognises. “I think they’re all part of the memories they took from you. They’re shadows. I’m the only real one. Well, real-ish.”

“What do you mean?”

“Turn around.”

Her limbs don’t want to co-operate. Because I’m afraid of what I might see.

It takes a monumental effort to get to herself to rise, turn inch by inch, raise her eyes past the cracked floorboards. It takes even more to comprehend what she’s seeing.

“Hey, Adora.”

Catra. It’s - Catra.

Catra - but not. Not quite the girl she watched disappear from her memories three years ago. Her eyes are slightly hollower, her hair is shorter, and she’s... dead.

Very obviously dead, too. It’s not like Adora could miss a stab wound in the front of her shirt.

But... but she’s there, she’s standing right in front of her, wearing an infuriatingly familiar half-smile, and she wants to cry -

“Ca... Catra?”

Her smile widens. “That’s me.”

“You’re here,” she whispers, and it comes out as more of a sob. She’s here she’s here she’s here she’s here -

“You’re here,” Catra - Catra - echoes, beaming. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

And Adora can’t do anything except let out a small sobbing noise in response.

“Do you... remember?” she asks softly, hesitantly, hands toying with the fraying hem of her shirt.

Adora shakes her head. “Not... much. I remember knowing you.”

Catra nods carefully. Her form has this odd translucent quality to it; she wonders if touching it would cause her to flicker like a hologram and vanish, only to re-materialise again in another place. “That’s something,” she offers. “Better than I’d hoped for, to be honest.”

Her eyes fix on the torch in Adora’s hand, then flick back up. “I’d put that away if I were you. Light kind of... uh, dispels ghosts. That’s what I am. A ghost.” A smile. “I think.”

Adora stuffs it into her pocket without registering the movement. “H-how -”

“How do ghosts work?” Catra guesses. “Not sure. How am I a ghost? Again, not sure.” She shrugs, as though brushing it off. “It’s been... a long time.”

“I missed you,” she says, in a much smaller voice than she expected. “I missed you so much. I missed - I missed knowing you. I-”

Catra smiles, and the movement causes her face to flicker at the edges, like static. “I missed you too. A lot.”

Adora bites back a sob. “Wha- What happened to you? How did you- ?” She shakes her head, shrugs. “Long story.”

There’s a long moment of silence. Adora catches herself staring at the outline of her form, the trails of half-shadows it leaves on the floorboards. In the half-light, she could almost be real. Alive.

She’s dead. She’s dead. It would hurt less if it wasn’t so clearly her fault.

“And - what about you?” Catra asks, breaking into her thoughts (which is a relief). There’s genuine concern in her eyes, she realises.

She really cares about me. I must’ve cared about her, too - I do care about her. I just - why?

“I... also a long story. I think you know most of it already.” She huffs a laugh, blinking back tears. “More than me, at least.”

Catra nods again, slowly. Her eyes flick up and down, taking everything in like she’s seeing it for the first time. And some sort of realisation crosses them, then fades away as quickly as it came.

“Do you want to... come back?” she asks.

“Come back?”

“Come back. To the house. I could... I could show you what happened. If you want. It’s getting late, and Glimmer’ll be worried about you.”

Despite herself, Adora almost laughs. “You’re worried about me getting in trouble with my roommate for coming home late?”

Catra grins. “I’ve interacted with Sparkles before. She’ll be pissed, trust me.”

Adora smiles too, and for a moment, it could almost be - before again. Before her memories cut off and leave her with a white wall of nothing. Before Catra died.

“I don’t know if I can,” she says softly. “I might be... I might be dreaming, or you’ll be gone when I come back, or -”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere,” Catra cuts in. “I kind of can’t.”

She sits down on the floor and crosses her legs, a clear request for Adora to join her. “It’d be easier if I show you now, but I don’t want to make you pass out and have to figure out how to cart your ass back home.”

“Show me what?” Adora breathes. This is it. This is it. I might be able to... to fix things. Finally.

“What happened to me. And what happened to you. It’s a long story, like I said.” She smiles at her, a little sadly, and presses her palms flat against the floorboards as she sits down. Adora wonders vacantly if she can feel it, if her hands are passing through the wood right now, if she’s solid or just a... a ghost.

If she’s really gone.

Thinking about it fills her with an even deeper sense of loss, somehow. She can’t shake the feeling that it’s her fault, even if she knows that’s not true. And it hurts.

For a moment, they sit facing each other under the shattered skylight, and it could almost be - a memory she can’t quite reach. It could almost be just them again, like she knows they were.

“Are you sure you’ll be able handle this now?”

She nods. Once.

Catra gives her a small, sad smile. Her eyes are transparent, filled with guilt and an emotion she can’t quite place.

The room starts to fill with a soft blue light. It creeps up through the floorboards, making the shadows stand upright and wheel towards the fractured ceiling, making Catra seem to glow from within. Adora has to force herself not to stare (then wonders why).

Smoke tendrils begin curling up through the floor beneath them, wrapping around their legs. She swallows her panic in time to see Catra lift her hands from the wood, leaving scorch marks in their wake, and glance encouragingly up at her. It’s... comforting. Familiar.

“Try to relax, okay?”

Adora nods again. “Okay,” she whispers. It’s all she can manage.

The smoke curls up around her torso and expands, filling the entire room with a blue haze. She narrows her eyes against the strengthening glow, closes them entirely - and opens them again when the door swings open and nearly flies off its hinges.

Before she can move, before she can do anything but cry out, Catra’s hands - Catra’s solid, real hands - clamp as gently as possible down on her shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s not real,” she whispers. “They can’t hurt us again.”

“Again?”

She turns to meet Catra’s eyes, and for the first time since they saw each other, she looks... serious.

“Again.”

And two kids come running through the door.

Adora almost gasps again, because... because it’s her. Her and Catra, covered in mud and soaking wet and shivering, hair in disarray, eyes filled with sheer terror.

As soon as Catra skids in, past Adora slams the door shut, hinges screaming in protest. She watches it happen as though underwater. It feels... it feels familiar. That fear in their eyes - it’s real, and she remembers it. Except she doesn’t.

“Are you okay?”

Past Catra nods, clutching her wrist to her chest. “I’m fine. Are they gone?”

“I don’t think so.” Past Adora jogs over to her and helps her to her feet, smiling faintly. Despite everything, despite the wound at her temple and the blood caked on the hem of her shirt, despite the rain and the terror in her eyes, she’s smiling.

And Adora... remembers.

She remembers everything at once, a hail of flashing images and thoughts and words and feelings. She remembers emotions she didn’t even know she had experienced - burning, horrific grief, loss, missing her so badly she wants to scream at the sky and quite literally burst into flame, choking on sobs in bed - sheer, unending terror, pushed deep down into the centre of her chest, the need to protect, protect her, keep her safe, because she can’t be scared if Catra is -

Someone is calling her name.

Someone is... Catra is calling for her, holding her against her chest as she trembles, whispering her name over and over again in her ear.

“Adora, Adora - “

And Past Catra... Past Catra is bent over on the wood, coughing and crying her name, letting out choking sobs, a hand pressed over the wound in the centre of her chest. The door has been blown open again, letting in the wind and the rain, and Past Adora is gone.

“I’m-” She sits up, which is much more of a struggle than it should be. “I’m here. What happened?”

Catra gives her a concerned look. “You- passed out, I think. I mean, I know I said you would, but I didn’t expect.... this.”

Her voice has begun to distort again, fading into a soft, static hum. The vision, or whatever it was, has begun to flicker and die into nothing, the threads fraying and unravelling until all that’s left is the girl bleeding out in the middle of the room.

Adora detaches herself from Catra’s fading grip as carefully as possible. Because, fuck, the things she remembers-

“You didn’t see half of that, did you?”

She shakes her head. “I didn’t.”

Catra’s face falls slightly. Adora can’t even imagine what the experience was like for her, having to relive her death again for the sake of her memory.

“But I did...” She clears her throat, rests a hand inches away from Catra’s. “I did remember. Everything.”

Her eyes light up from within, something that has nothing to do with the faded blue glow sinking back through the floorboards. “You did?”

Adora nods. The movement makes her head spin. She remembers... everything. Especially falling in love with the girl sitting opposite her, watching her with wide eyes. Especially the - the magic they tried to wield on her to make her forget, to make her immune to loving. And the way she tried to escape, to take Catra with her to keep her out of their reach, and it backfired in the worst way possible. She remembers her memories being stolen from her one by one, sucking the grief out of her until there was nothing left.

Most importantly, she remembers waking up in her bed and feeling for the space where Catra should have been the day after they told her she was dead.

“I did,” she whispers.

Silence stretches out between them, and Adora wonders if they could possibly be thinking about the same thing.

Without saying anything, without thinking twice, she blurts, “I love you.”

Catra’s eyes widen.

“We never said that. When you were alive. I always regretted that. I wanted to tell you, and I never got to, and I’m sorry for that. But, stars, Catra, I love you. I love you.”

She’s staring at her like she’s never seen her before, like she did the night - the night they kissed for the first time, the night she can remember with almost perfect clarity now, the night that was hidden from her for so long -

“Adora -”

“I know it’s been - wow, it’s been years - and I know so much has changed, but I just - I have to tell you that. I have to -”

And Catra laughs. Softly. Her hand comes down and through Adora’s, leaving a wave of - of warmth in its wake, and settles against her palm, and it feels so close to getting to hold her again she swears she could cry again.

“I love you too, idiot.”

#sep texxt #ask #blondhairedgoblin #writing #writing ask #she ra #spop #adora #catra #catradora #tw death #tw death mention #tw gore #tw blood #ask to tag #SHES OUT :D #sep's writing

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golbrocklovely · 4 years

Text

remember me // colby brock

A/N: this is not a request, but this is something i have been thinking about for a long time, probs since i started writing. i only finally wrote this out bc i’ve seen a lot of edit on insta that are like ‘what if your fave didn’t exist?’ and i figured this was sign for me to finally write it. if you guys want me to make a sequel to this, lmk. hope you enjoy.

prompt: everyone has forgotten colby, except her. but why?

trigger warning: angst, kinda sad, ppl forgetting colby

word count: 3567

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day started out like any other day for Colby. Nothing felt out of place as he woke up and laid in bed for a couple minutes. He knew today was going to be one of the less crazier days for him and Sam. No meetings of any kind, and no filming either. He had gotten everything done earlier this week and he was excited to have a bit of a day off. The only thing he had planned for today was to go workout with Sam early. He glanced at his phone. 9:34 A.M. Perfect time for him and Sam to go down to the apartment's gym and get some work done.

Colby stretched as he stood up, stumbling over to his closet and changing into what he usually worked out in, a muscle shirt and basketball shorts. He trudged into his bathroom and brushed his teeth quickly, opting to take a shower after he got home from the gym. He slipped his sneakers on as he walked into his kitchen and got a water bottle from his fridge. Taking a big gulp, he grabbed his keys and headed straight down the hallway to Sam's apartment.

He knocked three times, calling out to Sam as he waited for the blonde-haired boy to open the door. Finally, Sam did, rubbing his eyes and staring at Colby confused.

"Hey dude, did you oversleep?" Colby smirked, "That would be a first."

Sam narrowed his eyes at Colby, his voice still tired. "Um, I'm sorry?"

“Don't you remember? We planned to work out this morning. We talked about it last night.” Colby replied, twirling his keys in his fingers.

“What are you talking about?” Sam scrunched up his face.

“Last night after we filmed your video, we said we should go workout this morning…” Colby chuckled lightly, “Are you okay, brother?”

“I'm sorry, but... do you have the wrong apartment?” Sam asked nicely.

Colby exhaled. “What?”

“You must be looking for someone else, dude. I have no idea who you are.” Sam mumbled to himself, “Or how you know my name…”

“Okay, ha-ha. Very funny. Come on, Sam. Let's go.” Colby stated, taking a step back to leave.

Sam insisted, his voice getting louder. “No seriously, I have no idea who you are.”

“Babe, who is that?” A voice called from inside the apartment.

Colby looked over Sam, seeing Kat walk around the corner in her pjs. Colby glanced above Kat and noticed something off but ignored it.

“Hey Kat, did Sam hit his head last night?” Colby joked.

Sam turned to Kat. “Do you know him?”

Kat took a step back, glancing at Colby quickly. “No, I have no idea who he is. Do you?”

“No, I don't.” Sam shook his head.

“What are you guys on about? Of course, you know me.” Colby hissed.

“Seriously, I have no idea who you are or how you know me. But you gotta leave.” Sam ordered.

“What?” Colby raised an eyebrow, his voice softening, “Is this some type of prank?”

“Leave now, or I'm gonna call security on you.” Sam grunted.

Colby started. “Dude what are you talking-”

Sam slammed the door in Colby's face, locking it loudly. Colby scoffed, staring at the door for a second.

If this is a prank, I'm so gonna get him back for this.

Colby rolled his eyes and went down to the gym. He couldn't wrap his head around what just happened. Why was Sam pranking him if they already filmed last night? Was he trying to film for next week now too? Was this for someone else's video?

I mean, this has to be a prank... right?

Colby shook his head, ignoring the strange thought. Of course, this was a prank. It was probably for Jake's video. Maybe even Kat's. Or Kevin's. Someone was doing it to him. He couldn't remember the last time he had pranked somebody. But whoever he did, they were probably trying to get him back now for it. And they were doing a pretty good job.

Colby jumped onto the treadmill, keeping the pace slow at first as he searched through Spotify to find his playlist. Where was his playlist? As cheesy as it was to listen to the playlist he made for fans, it was filled with his favorite songs, so he would actually listen to it a lot. But now... he couldn't find it.

Where the fuck is it?

He searched, even going to his profile, but it wasn't there. Gone, like it never existed.

Maybe Spotify is acting up. Let me just go to Youtube.

Colby clicked on the app, searching up a song he wanted to hear. Then he paused for a moment, deleting the text he had written and typing in 'sam and colby'.

No results found.

“What?” Colby murmured, twisting up his face.

He then typed in 'colby brock'.

No results found.

Colby's heart sped up in his chest, his breathing quickening. Did his channel get deleted? Why were there no results for his channel, or 'Sam and Colby' for that matter? He finally typed in 'sam golbach', and Sam's channel appeared.

Colby clicked on it, glancing around at the different layout. This wasn't the layout Sam had had before. The only time they change it is when they are starting a new chapter, and they always do it together. Maybe he changed it last minute?

He clicked on Sam's videos. Scrolling through the list of them, he noticed something weird.

Sam always included Colby in the thumbnail. But now... he was nowhere. Now someone different was in the thumbnail, like Jake, Kevin, or even Corey. But... Colby was nowhere.

What the fuck was going on?

Colby clicked on a video he knew he was in, 'This Is How He LOST The Game’. He watched through the first ad, waiting impatiently. Finally, when the video loaded, his eyes widened at what he saw.

He wasn't in the video.

Sam had started the video off like normal, showing all the guys sitting on the couch as he explained the name of the game. But Colby, who knew for a fact he was in this video, was no longer there. His spot empty.

It was one thing to pretend not to know him, it was one thing to remove him from the thumbnails. But to remove him from videos all together...

“It's impossible.” He uttered under his breath.

Colby rushed off the treadmill, no longer in the mood to workout. He ran up to his apartment, feeling his heart bang against his ribcage.

Maybe this is all a weird ass dream? Or an extremely elaborate prank?

Colby went into his closet, deciding he wanted to change out of his clothes into something more comfortable. He gazed over at the corner of his closet, where he kept all of his merch, along with the XPLR ones too.

It was empty.

“What the fuck?” Colby grabbed at the empty hangers, spinning around his closet. He threw open drawers to try and find his merch, but he couldn't find it.

Colby swiped open his phone, sliding to his pictures. He knew him and Sam had a recent photoshoot in the new XPLR merch, so as long as those photos were there, he knew everything's okay.

As he opened his photo album, a certain dread trickled through his body.

Colby never deleted anything off his phone. He wanted to keep as many photos as possible. Plus it was always good to have extra photos in case he didn't have anything to post on his Instagram. But now, every photo he had was different than it once was. He had many photos of him and Sam from their years of friendship. But now every photo that had him and Sam in it... was gone. It was no longer Sam and Colby. It was just... Colby.

I'm not doing this right now. This can't be real.

Colby shook his head, his nerves getting the better of him as he laid back down on his bed. He took some deep breaths, trying to relax. This must just be the most realistic dream he's ever had, and he just needs to go back to sleep and wake up to everything normal again.

Normal... Sam's neon sign was gone.

Colby groaned to himself, closing his eyes and getting comfortable in bed. No, this is not the time to think. I just need to sleep.

As Colby felt himself relax into sleep, his dreams that followed were confusing and dark. Nothing made sense, but all he knew was that he was in a panic.

Colby jolted awake suddenly. He could tell by the way the sun was peeking through his windows that it was later. He opened his phone. 1:34 P.M.

He sighed deeply. Colby was used to waking up on his days off this late. Everything already felt better.

Did I dream all of that? Or was that prank real?

As he slid out of bed to the bathroom, he decided to check twitter. If that was all real, maybe Sam had mentioned the prank to the fans.

Colby opened twitter and nothing seemed out of the usual. He looked at Sam's account, and noticed it was not following him anymore.

He's being extremely thorough, isn't he?

As he went to switch over to the Sam and Colby account, he noticed the icon wasn't there. His fingers twitched as he typed 'sam and colby' into the search bar. Everything but that account showed up. 'Sam and Colby' twitter didn't exist.

A nauseous feeling rolled through Colby's body. Colby went to his profile, looking through the people he followed, not even noticing the significant lack of followers he had. He knew he followed a couple fans, maybe they knew what was up. As he scrolled through, he noticed the usernames were different.

He knew a bunch of fans off-hand. A lot of fan accounts always stuck out to him; and it was easy to remember the username, especially if it was named after him.

But nobody's username was.

He saw a lot of 'Golbach', but no 'Brock' or even 'Golbrock', which he always thought was cute. Not a single username was related to him anymore.

Alright, that's enough.

He angrily clicked on his contacts, needing to call Sam and tell him to call off this prank. It was no longer funny and honestly, he didn't even want to be a part of it anymore. Most pranks he was fine with, but this one was going too far for him.

Colby gasped as he stared at his contacts, dropping his phone like it electrocuted him.

All his friends were missing from his contacts. The only people in his phone were his family, and that was it.

Colby began to hyperventilate, unable to stop the panic that surged through his body. He bore at himself in the mirror, staring at his stress-ridden face. He gripped the counter of his sink, trying to calm himself down.

If he couldn't turn to Sam, who could he turn to?

He picked his phone back up, leaning against his counter as he called his mom. He just needed to know that someone remembered him.

“Hello?” His mother’s voice sang through the phone.

Colby breathed, slightly relaxing against the counter. “Hey Mom, how are you?”

“Hi Cole-baby. I'm doing okay. How are you?” She asked sweetly.

Colby pouted. “Um, I'm feeling a bit... off, to say the least.”

“Oh no, what's wrong?” She responded.

“I know this is gonna sound like a weird question, but do you remember my friend Sam?” Colby questioned, tapping his hand against the counter.

She hummed, guessing. “Sam? Sam... Johnson?”

“What? No. I never knew a Sam Johnson.” Colby rolled his eyes, frustrated, “I mean Sam Golbach. Sam Golbach. Do you remember him?”

“No... should I?” She admitted.

His heart dropped at her words. “Yeah, you should. He's my best friend. We were friends all through high school. We started a literal career together, he's basically your third son at this point.”

“Woah, honey. What are you talking about?” She puzzled.

“You don't remember Sam? He's the whole reason I moved out here, Mom.” He urged, needing his mother to remember.

She paused, then spoke. “Colby, you moved out to LA alone. Last month.”

“What?” He choked.

“You worked all through high school and college and saved up money and just recently moved out there.” She informed.

His eyes widened. “Mom, I've lived in LA for almost five years now.”

Also... college?

“Maybe it feels like five years, but honey, you only moved out a month ago at max.” His mom’s voice softened, lowering slightly. “Are you okay?”

“No momma, apparently not.” He sighed, “Who was I friends with in high school if I wasn’t friends with Sam?”

“Honey, you didn’t have any… or none that you ever brought home.” She mentioned.

Colby queried. “And college?”

“You didn’t really talk about anyone. You were very focused on your schoolwork.” She explained.

That literally doesn’t sound like me at all. I couldn’t even pass math without Sam.

Colby glanced down at his tattoos for a second, pursing his lips. “Another quick question, I was allowed to live in our house with dyed hair, tattoos, and pierced ears?”

She gasped. “Wait what? You got a tattoo?!”

“Mom, I have like five.” Colby deadpanned.

“When did you find the time to get them?!” She hushed, “Cole, you know how I feel about tattoos.”

Colby grew tired. “So, you've never heard of a Sam Golbach before?”

“No, absolutely not. But don't try to change the subject on me, Cole Robert.” She scolded.

He huffed. “I'll talk to you later, momma.”

She sputtered. “What? Don't you-”

Colby clicked ‘End Call’, lowering his head to the counter, taking in a deep breath and holding it.

“What the fuck is happening right now?” He demanded out loud.

Colby jumped up, going to his closet and slipping on some clothes quickly. The only thing he knew for certain is that something wasn't right, and he needed to get out of his apartment and go somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He grabbed his keys and rushed down to the parking lot, getting into his car quickly and driving off.

He drove for a while, finally pulling into another parking lot and turning off his car. He needed to get something to eat, and then maybe he could figure things out. He glanced around and noticed the parking lot he was in was for a diner named Meyer's. He locked his car as he left, swinging the diner's door open hastily. The diner wasn't packed, but it wasn't empty either. A nice lull of conversations droned on as he sat down at the furthest booth, cracking his knuckles nervously.

He picked up the menu that was already at the table, staring at the front of it. He didn't even realize a waitress had walked up next to him.

"...Are you okay?" The soft voice said, breaking him out of his thoughts.

Colby stared up at the waitress, noticing her eyes first. They were captivating and beautiful, much like herself. Her hair shined brightly in the sun that basked through the window. Her smile was wonderful to see after a day of unpleasant looks.

He stuttered. “What? Uh-I. Yeah, no, I'm fine.”

She giggled. “Okay. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Um, a water. No, a soda. Please.” Colby muttered.

“Alright. Coming right up.” She nodded.

Colby stared at the menu again, gazing over the pictures of sandwiches and wraps. He wasn't really hungry, but he felt like he should just eat something, even if it was just to pass the time.

The waitress came back over with his soda, placing it lightly down in front of him. “Are you ready to order?”

“No, not yet.” Colby answered, not looking up from the menu.

“Okay, I'll be right back.” She started to walk away, then stopped and turned back. “Are you okay? I know I already asked you that but... you look really upset.”

Colby’s shoulders slumped as he gazed up at her. “I-I... don't even know how to explain it.”

“Why? Is it complicated?” She guessed.

“You could say that,” Colby glared down at the menu. “It just doesn't make any sense. It sounds fake, to be honest.”

“Well, you can tell me. I won't judge.” She smiled.

I might as well tell somebody...

“Everyone's... forgotten about me?” Even Colby was confused at his words.

“What do you mean? Like they're ignoring you?” She questioned, her hand resting on her hip.

“No. Like they literally forgot I exist. Or, I somehow don't exist in their lives anymore, when yesterday I did.” He confessed.

She shrugged. “Well, maybe they're trying to ignore you instead of talking things out.”

“No, I don't think you understand. I don't exist to them. They don't know me. Like, at all,” Colby corrected. “My best friend, my brother, the fucking dude I got arrested with, doesn't know who I am.”

“Wait, you've been arrested?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It was just breaking and entering. And having fake IDs,” He commented. “But that's not the point, the point is no one remembers me, but I remember them.”

The waitress stood there silently, awkwardly.

“I don't know what to say.” She whispered.

He gulped. “I don't know either. But if you have a solution, I'd gladly hear it.”

“Maybe it's a prank?” She speculated.

“I thought about that too. But if it is, this is extremely elaborate. And borderline impossible.” Colby disclosed.

She argued nonchalantly. “People do crazy things for social media.”

“Yeah, but even my friends wouldn't take it this far for just a dumb video.” He complained.

“Are your friends famous?” She inquired.

“I wouldn't say that. My best friend is Sam Golbach.” Colby revealed.

“Sam Golbach? Why have I heard that name before?” She asked quietly.

“He's got a lot of followers. He’s a Youtuber.” He pointed out.

“Wait, you're Sam's best friend?” Her eyes widened.

“Yeah?” He cocked his head to the side.

She gasped. “Oh! You're Colby Brock!”

“I'm what?” He stammered.

“You're Colby, right?” She doubted for a second, “Or did I get that wrong?”

Colby jumped up out of his seat. “Oh my God, you know who I am! Wait, how do you know?”

“My one friend is a huge fan of you and Sam. She showed me you guys like a month ago.” She paused for a second, smirking. “She's actually really into you... Maybe I should call her.”

“Please do. I need to know if she knows who I am.” Colby pleaded, sitting back down.

The waitress followed him, sitting across from Colby. “Of course she does, she literally has you set as her wallpaper.”

She pulled out her phone, glancing around to make sure no one was watching her. She clicked on a contact, putting the phone on the table and clicking ‘Speaker’.

“Hello?” A voice broke in through the phone.

She grinned, staring up at Colby. “Hey Sara, you need to come down to the diner real quick.”

“What why?” Sara questioned.

“Colby Brock is here.” She announced.

Sara remarked. “...Who?”

“Colby Brock, the guy you're in love with.” She repeated.

“I have no idea who you're talking about. I've never heard that name before.” Sara denied.

“He's Sam Golbach's friend.” The waitress described.

Sara exclaimed. “Oh my God, is Sam there?! Because I’ll-”

She interjected. “No, he’s not.”

“Oh... then I don't want to come.” Sara recalled, “I've never heard Sam talk about a guy named Colby before.”

Colby swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes falling off of the waitress’.

She fretted. “Okay then. I'll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye.” Sara ended, hanging up the phone.

After a moment of silence, the waitress stated, “I'm sorry about that.”

“What's there to be sorry about?” Colby quavered.

The waitress scoffed suddenly. “Is this some kinda joke?”

“What?” He queried.

“Are you pulling a prank on me? Was Sara in on it? Because I’ll kill her if she met you and didn’t tell me.” She jeered jokingly.

Colby shook his head, deadpanning. “I haven’t met Sara, and I’m not pranking you.”

“How can I know if you’re lying or not?” She questioned, squinting her eyes.

“Google my name. Search me on any social media,” Colby suggested. “I don’t exist.”

“Okay…” She agreed.

The waitress quickly typed in his name into Google, coming up with no images that looked like him. None of his social media links came up either.

She gazed up at him slowly. “This is really weird.”

“You’re telling me.” Colby uttered, “No one remembers me.”

She blurted. “But I do.”

“Yeah… why is that?” He inquired.

“I-I don’t know.” She sputtered, confused. Then she jolted up from her seat instantly. “I-um, gotta go help out my other tables. Do you need me to give you some time to look over the menu?”

“Yes…” He continued, “But one other thing.”

“Sure.” She leaned in, her hands resting on the tabletop.

“Can you help me? Please?” Colby begged, lightly grabbing her hand.

She silently gasped, whispering, “How?”

“I don’t know. But I think you’re the only one that can.” Colby divulged.

The waitress stuttered, but no words fell from her lips.

He exhaled, staring into her eyes. “So, will you?”

| >>

#colby brock #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fic #colby brock fanfic #colby brock angst #colby brock x reader #colby brock x oc #colby brock oneshot #colby brock one shot

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tuanhood · 4 years

Text

alpha

pairing: frat!im jaebeom x reader

genre: lil bit of everything. lil smut, lil angst, maybe lots of fluff, established relationship

warnings: language, cringey frat stuff, public(??) fingering

word count: 4,200+

summary: your boyfriend’s frat doesn’t allow dating outside of greek life. hence the reason you two have had to sneak around for ten months... and hence the reason you’ve somehow found yourself stuck and hiding in a closet.

a/n: wow long time no see! sorry for the delay, I’m really busy/stressing about dissertation stuff lately so updates and writings aren’t going to be frequent. but I really wanted to write this for ya’ll real quick to have SOMETHING, but yeah it’s not edited and NOT very good bc of the quickness. But I hope ya’ll will forgive me :)

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When you woke up this morning, you really didn’t think you would end up in a closet at the Alpha Sigma Phi house.

The space is cramped, dark and a little smelly. Judging by the odor, you guessed that this was the closet that the boys in the house used to throw garbage in whenever they had to “clean” the house. Maybe this situation would have been a little bit better if you had been pushed into the closet that’s on the second floor – that way there would be less garbage and less boy smell. But who were you kidding? There would be a boy smell regardless.

In theory though you really shouldn’t be stuck in a closet at a frat house thinking about which closet you’d rather be in. What had your life become lately?

“Just a little bit longer, okay?” You heard Jaebeom utter through the door. It instinctively made you roll your eyes. The tone of his voice was so nonchalant, as if you weren’t stuck in a small space. But of course, he was on the other side of the door in fresh air, with as much space to roam around as he pleased – he didn’t understand “just a little bit longer” was triggering.

As much as you lo- liked Jaebeom… you weren’t sure if you would be able to hide in small spaces for the entirety of your relationship.

Babe it’s not for our entire relationship… Just until we graduate.

When he had first said that you didn’t really think about the bigger picture. All you had thought about was how happy he made you and how much you loved being with him. And that was the most important thing to you. But lately the sneaking around and the hiding had been a little too much for you – you weren’t sure if you could keep it up for another year… It had already been 10 months and you were at your wits end. Every time you wanted to sit down to have the conversation with Jaebeom – the one where you tell him it’s either the end of hiding or the end of your relationship – he’d give you those eyes, that smile and it would be completely wiped from your thoughts.

Damn Im Jaebeom. You think you fucking love him.

“Jae…” you grumbled, hitting your head against the door a bit. It had already been what… a half hour?

You heard him shush you and another voice emerged from the other side of the door. “Hey man, any particular reason you’ve been standing here?” Jaebeom’s nervous laughter is a giveaway, you just hope that Yugyeom doesn’t pick up on it. “No reason… just… like the space over here… It’s good party watching space.”

There’s silence and you pressed your ear up to the door further, hoping to hear something. You jumped back when you heard your boyfriend’s panicked voice, “what are you doing?”

Yugyeom snorted, “Dude chill… I’m just getting more cups from the closet.”

“Uh… Let me! I’ll get them!”

“What?”

“Yeah no worries dude, I didn’t really do anything to help prep for the party so I might as well get some fucking cups from the closet,” Jaebeom chuckled, his voice shifting to a more normal tone, “to be honest I didn’t really even know this was happening tonight… otherwise…” He drifted off, mumbling the last part to himself. You know he’s referencing the fact that the two of you thought the house would be empty – many of the guys typically going out to a local bar on Thursdays, but to your surprise as you crossed the main foyer in the house, the front door opened with most of the guys in the frat piling through. That led to your push into the closet.

“Yeah well… Red Room was closed because apparently they have a rat problem. I feel like that’s a bunch of bullshit. I mean we go there every week… we would have noticed if there was a rat problem.”

“Maybe they were just good at hiding it.”

There’s a lull in silence and Yugyeom clicked his tongue, as if he thinking deeply about something, “but I guess you wouldn’t know… You really don’t go out with us on Thursdays anymore…” As much as you liked the guys in Jaebeom’s frat – from stories you’d heard through your boyfriend of course – it seemed like they were often pretty slow when it came to certain things. If Yugyeom was starting to get skeptical and began piecing things together then surely the rest of the guys would too.

“Let me get you guys those cups.”

Taking a small step back, you turn to the shelf on your right, finding the red cups almost immediately through the dimmed closet. As the door cracks open slightly, your boyfriend’s long arm appears in the small space, gesturing around – clearly looking for the cups.

“Dude what are you doing?” Yugyeom asked.

“I know where the cups are so why should I go in all the way and get claustrophobic?” You have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at Jaebeom’s fake explanation.

Yes, because why would anyone ever want to be stuck inside of a closet? Rolling your eyes – happy he can’t see – you thrust the cups forward into his wandering hand. You swear you hear him grunt at your force.

The cups and his hand disappeared along with the small sliver of light that comes from the door being open. “Well… here you go… the cups you wanted.” There’s another pause and you wished you could see what was going on – to know if Yugyeom was buying how uncharacteristically strange Jaebeom was being or if he was still suspicious.

“You should leave your creepy party watching spot and actually join the fun, ya know? Some of the girls from Theta are going to be by soon and I know Amanda’s been asking a lot about you lately.”

Yugyeom’s mention of another girl makes your skin crawl and you’re almost ready to pounce out of the closet and call it a day, but instead you clenched your fists and waited to hear your boyfriend’s response.

“Nah man… I’m good.”

“Come on… how long has it been since you last had any action? I’m pretty sure Amanda would be down to hook up tonight.” Instinctively you felt your hand go to the doorknob, gripping it tightly.

To your dismay Jaebeom says nothing in response and your mind starts running wild thinking about possible nonverbal responses he could have communicated to Yugyeom – perhaps one of them being “yeah I’ll totally bang Amanda tonight.”

And you know what… maybe he should. Maybe it’d be better for him to be with someone he can actually walk around campus with. To be with someone he could actually introduce to his friends. You weren’t any of those things.

The circumstances of your relationship with Jaebeom had been complicated from the beginning. The two of you had met in a random general ed class you were both forced to take for a stupid credit. Never in your life did you think you were going to meet your next boyfriend in “Comparative Post-Communist Politics.” The two of you had the lowest scores in the class and found yourselves bonding over your almost failing midterm grades, but luckily the two of you had passed the course. Thank god for the grading curve.

It had started just that simply – two people who were “class friends.” Nothing more, nothing less. You’d sit next to each other every lecture and laugh over how dumb you both were, but never made efforts to hang out after class or even study together in preparation for exams. It wasn’t until the final day of class that Jaebeom had asked you to get drinks. His request shocked you as you had figured that just like most “class friends” you two would part ways and never see each other again except for the occasional pass by on campus where each of you would squint and wonder how do I know that person? Were they in that one class I took that one time?

You were perhaps even more shocked when you agreed to go.

From then on, the two of you talked about things besides class and got to know each other on a more personal level. You had already known some very basic things about him – such as his affiliation with the Greek system – but soon enough Jaebeom was pouring his heart out to you, and you to him. Both of you admitted that you had never felt this comfortable with someone before.

It was probably you fifth- or sixth-time getting drinks at a secluded place downtown when Jaebeom revealed to you how much he liked you. You felt your heart leap out of your chest and just as you were about to reveal your own confession, he hit you with a “but…”

“but… I can’t technically date you. My frat’s chapter is really strict about dating outside of Greek life. When I was a pledge, they told me that they’ve kicked guys out for going out with girls who aren’t affiliated.”

In any other situation you would have gotten up and said “no thank you” to whoever the guy was, not wanting to waste your time on anything or anyone who prioritized some stupid brotherhood over their feelings for you. But this was Jaebeom… The Jaebeom that you had grown close to over such a short period of time and had told you how much Alpha Sigma Phi meant to him. He had grown up an only child and spent much of his younger years feeling lonely, which was what made him want to rush the frat. He wanted the close experience and to have strong loyalty and ties with the other members – just like with real brothers.

“We can make it work. I really like you too Jaebeom… I’m willing to try this and figure something out…”

At the time… you weren’t sure what “figure something out” really meant – especially since you weren’t supposed to be seen together by literally anyone. Most people on campus knew someone who knew someone that was in Alpha Sig and if anyone saw the two of you together, you’d risk it getting back to the guys at the house. Which was why for 10 months the two of you had been dating in secret – him coming over to yours almost every night and you sneaking over to the house every Thursday when the guys were usually gone until the early hours.

You felt like you were fighting back tears at the thought of Jaebeom with someone else, but maybe it was what was right. You deserved to not be a secret forever – you were in a closet for godssake – and Jaebeom deserved to be with the perfect sorority girl that he could take wherever he wanted without the risk of getting kicked out of his second home. Tightly shutting your eyes, you attempted to stop yourself from crying, but somehow it makes it worse with the first drop rolling down your cheek slowly.

“Baby? Are you crying?”

It’s then that you realized the door had been cracked open once again, Jaebeom looking behind him before slipping in with you, shutting the door tightly. It occurred to you how pathetic you must look, crying in a dim, cramped closet at a frat house.

Quickly, you tried to wipe the tears of your cheek and hiccupped slightly, “N-no I’m not crying. It’s just my allergies with all the dust in here.”

“You don’t have allergies…” He positioned himself closer to you, bringing his own hand up to your face to rest it on your cheek, feeling the wet trails your tears had left behind, “what’s wrong?” Biting your lip, you don’t say anything in the hopes that he’ll drop the subject. Jaebeom knows you well enough to know when you want to move on and not address a topic, but this time he can’t find it in himself to just let it go.

“Y/N tell me.”

The way his thumb continued to gently caress your cheek back in forth, makes you want to close your eyes and pretend you’re anywhere else besides here in this closet having this conversation. You’d rather be with your boyfriend in a place far away from here where you don’t have to hide and you don’t have to worry about perceptions.

“I was just thinking about what Yugyeom said about the girl from Theta.”

“Baby… I would never go behind your back and do something with her-”

You sighed deeply and felt your stomach drop as you kept wedging your way further and further into the conversation you had once been wanting to have. Not seeing his sparkling eyes and that look in bright light made the words somewhat easier to get out. “I know you would never do that… I just think sometimes maybe it’s best if you had someone you could actually be seen with.”

Jaebeom doesn’t say anything, because it’s at that moment he feels his own stomach churn and feel sick. Making out your saddened face in the dark closet and listening to your words he realizes what he’s done. The way you had said “if you had someone you could actually be seen with” as if there was something wrong with you. As if you were less then. He wanted to kick himself for making you feel like that when it was in fact his fault and his own issues that stopped the two of you from being together publicly. Was brotherhood really so important to him when he was at risk of losing the person he loves?

Loves.

Reality hit him again.

“No,” Jaebeom finally said shaking his head, “I don’t want anyone else. I only want you and I’m sorry for making you feel like this. You’ve been so willing to hide this just because I’m a fucking idiot… because you understand how much this all meant to me.”

“Meant?”

He delicately brings his hands to rest at your waist, leaning close enough forward until you can feel his breath on your face, “I have something in my life that’s more important than getting kicked out of a stupid frat. I-I love you Y/N.”

You don’t answer him for a moment and he feels like he’s going to collapse at first from your lack of response. He wonders if maybe he had read the last 10-months completely wrong or if you had finally had enough with his bullshit and he was just too late. Jaebeom feels all of these worries and doubts fade away when you lean forward to press your lips against his. “I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips and you felt your boyfriend smile, his grip tightening on your waist and bringing you even closer to his body until you’re flush against one another.

You felt one of his hands drift down from your waist to the hem of your skirt, slowly caressing your thigh and slipping itself underneath the material until it’s hitched up above his hand. Removing yourself from his lips, you let out a lustful sigh to let him know how much you want him to do what he’s thinking about doing. As he rests his forehead against yours, he looks down between your two bodies, his hand going to your panties, gently playing with the waistband – snapping it back and forth gently to tease you.

“Do you want me to take back that I love you?” You asked playfully.

Jaebeom laughed, “you wouldn’t dare.”

Just as you’re about to respond with a bratty “try me,” you feel him dip his hand underneath the now damp material. He smiled at your caught off guard reaction. His fingers brushed your core, his index finger moving along your slit as he gathered your juices on his finger before he brought it to his lips and sucked them gently. You watched him in the dim light and felt yourself somehow grow more wet than before. He moved his fingers back down, his thumb pressing up against your clit and you felt yourself suck in a breath at the feeling, before two of his digits pushed into your completely. With the small amount of space, you had, you lifted your hips in an effort to get more of him inside of you and he chuckled at the action.

“We have all night baby girl, don’t worry. I take care of you, always.”

You exhaled at the feeling of his thumb massaging your clit and his fingers began to pump into you at a slow rhythmic pace. He watched you for a moment wondering how he got so lucky before returning his lips back to yours.

A groan arose in your throat and against Jaebeom’s lips as he curled his middle finger into you, hitting that spot that always made you so weak and you feel your thighs begin to twitch as you near your high. Sometimes it amazed you how quick he could make you reach your release, but he already knew everything else about you so well it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he would excel at this as well.

When he picked up the pace of his fingers fucking into you, continuing to hit your g-spot each time, you felt yourself quickly come apart and your walls clench around his fingers tightly. You dropped your head down to his shoulder and felt like there wasn’t any breath left in your body as you rode out the waves of your orgasm, Jaebeom making sure not to overstimulate you and slowing his fingers down. When he finally removes his hand from you, you feel so empty almost like your body just wants to be that close to him all the time – not even in a sexual way.

When you finally feel strong enough, you bring your head off of Jaebeom’s shoulder and wrap your hands around his neck tightly, bringing him in for another kiss.

“I love you.”

“I love you too. I never want to stop saying it and I never want to stop hearing it.”

With arms still around his neck, you gently play with the hair at his nape. You feel happier than you’ve felt in a long time – which was saying something considering how happy your boyfriend had made you the past 10 months.

“Should we get out of this closet?” Jaebeom asked with shut eyes, feeling relaxed every time he’s under your touch.

“Now? You want everyone to see us now?”

He shrugged, “They’re going to find out either way so might as well just do it now. I just hope they give me time to get my stuff before they kick me out.” You feel yourself frown at his candor and the thought of Jaebeom losing the sense of belonging he had gained from being in Alpha Sig, but you remember his previous assurances. You had one another and everything was going to be fine.

Just as you’re about to respond to him, you’re interrupted by a sudden emergence of light into the closet signaling the opening of the door. You and Jaebeom both freeze when you see Yugyeom and some of the other brothers behind him.

“Can you two just come out already?”

It’s almost as though both you and your boyfriend had forgotten all of your words. Instead you stare at one another with wide eyes.

“We’re tired of all this waiting. Just come out and introduce us to your girlfriend already man,” Yugyeom whined.

This was embarrassing. Had they been… listening?

“Listen ‘Gyeom I know you chose today’s date in the pool, but that doesn’t mean you win the bet,” one of the guys from behind him said.

Yugyeom lets out a large groan and turns to the member, “what? Why not? I chose today and he was going to do it today! I swear!”

“Yeah but you ruined it by opening the door! You pretty much made the whole thing void… Haven’t you heard of like… not ruining the controlled variable in the experiment or whatever the fuck?”

“The controlled variable was the door? That doesn’t make sense. You’re as dumb as a bag of bones dude,” Yugyeom snorted, turning back to you and Jaebeom. It’s then that you feel relief as Jaebeom finally cleared his throat to say something to the many pairs of eyes fixated on you both, “can you guys please explain to me what’s going on here?”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes at Jaebeom as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to understand, “we had a bet going for when you would finally tell us about your secret girlfriend… Who to be honest isn’t really a secret. I sit next to Y/N’s friend in Econ… class friends ya know.”

You felt your mouth go dry. If they knew about Jaebeom dating an unaffiliated girl this entire time why did they let it play out for so long? Why didn’t they say something to him and make him break up with you or kick him out of the frat? Were they trying to torture the two of you for the longest amount of time possible?

It’s then when you really take in each member of Alpha Sig’s face and you see no malice or disgust at the fact that you’re not a non-affiliate. They almost seemed… happy.

You felt Jaebeom take his head into yours and he sighs once more before looking back to the guys, “listen… Y/N is my girlfriend and has been for the last 10 months… I’ve put her through so much shit and made her sneak around which she did willingly because of how amazing she is. I’ve never felt so loved and cared for by someone before and I can’t put her through more shit that’s going to make her feel less then she is. I love her and I’m sorry you guys can’t accept that. I can be out of here by tomorrow.”

As Jaebeom goes to move the two of you out of the closet, Yugyeom places his hand up causing you both to stop in your tracks.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Jaebeom looks to you and then back to Yugyeom, “the rule… that we’re not allowed to date anyone who’s not affiliated. When we were pledges they told us they’ve kicked guys out for breaking the rule… remember?”

The boys in front of Jaebeom all look at him blankly until Yugyeom begins to laugh, the rest of the guys following him until you have approximately 6 frat guys laughing in your faces. Looking at your boyfriend his eyebrows are furrowed. You can’t tell if he’s confused at their reaction or annoyed.

It takes a moment for Yugyeom and the boys to finally stop laughing, “Jae… are you joking? Is that why you haven’t introduced her to us? Because of that stupid rule?”

“Yeah…”

Coming closer, Yugyeom placed his hand on Jaebeom’s shoulder, “Dude… that rule is not real. They’ve never kicked anyone out over dating someone who’s unaffiliated. Sure, the upperclassmen then didn’t want us to date someone not in an org, but they would have never made us leave… That kinda goes against the whole brotherhood thing. Besides, now we’re the upperclassmen and we just care that we’re all happy. You included.”

You felt like you could run a marathon at the amount of energy and feelings coursing through your body. You wanted to hug all of the semi-strangers in front of you, but also you wanted to hit Jaebeom for thinking that rule was a real thing when it was in fact… apparently not. In the back of your head, you make a mental note to lecture him on next time it never hurts to ask questions before you get into a secret 10-month relationship that might not need to be a secret.

“Thanks guys,” Jaebeom smiled at his brothers, with his hand still holding onto yours, caressing your smooth skin with his thumb.

“Now let’s continue this party, shall we?” Yugyeom yelled loudly as the rest of the guys cheer back in response, most of them heading back to the main living space until it’s just you, Jaebeom and Yugyeom.

The younger boy shakes his head, “I still can’t believe you were in that closet the entire time… which reminds me. I am never going in there again after the actions that occurred in there,” you felt your face grow hot at his admittance that he had heard or at least knew what had happened in the closest just moments before his grand entrance.

“I still can’t believe you knew the entire time and didn’t say anything!” You whined.

“I was expecting you to jump out as soon as I mentioned Amanda… That’s why I brought it up. Which by the way man,” Yugyeom turned to Jaebeom, “none of the girls at Theta give a shit about you.”

“That’s totally okay. There’s only one girl I want to give a shit about me,” Jaebeom smiled proudly placing his arm around you in front of Yugyeom and everyone else at the party. He relishes in how comfortable it feels to finally be like this with you in front of some of the most important people in his life. Besides you of course.

You hummed in delight and nuzzled your head against his arm, into his shoulder, “She doesn’t just give a shit about you. She kind of loves you too.”

“Just kind of?”

“Nah with her full heart.”

#got7 fanfic #got7 smut #got7 #jaebeom #jaebeom fanfic

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moons-and-stars-and-shit · 3 years

Note

hi again 🥺🥺 this is for the match ups you are doing :))

appearance :: i am 5'4 and have brown hair and eyes, though my eyes are a little green with sunlight too. i can say i have a curvy body(? and i was told i have a cute and bright smile.

personality :: when i first meet someone i tend to be very shy, sometimes i even barely speak. but once i get to know someone i open myself up a little more (still, i find it very hard to open up to things that are personal or make me sad). i could say im calm, positive and patient but i tend to be jealous a lot and sensitive over not so important things. i do have a tendency to put others before me way too much which causes me to forget about myself.

hobbies :: i love to read ! i usually use my savings for buying new books or mangas :)) i also like painting and drawing but i dont know if i should count those as hobbies now bc they are very related to what im majoring in. I love playing the guitar and listening to some calming music while laying in bed.

aesthetic :: my favorite aesthetics are cottagecore and goblincore. however in my daily life i use a combination of both + a little bit of light academia <3

likes :: greek mythology, conspiracy theories, kdramas, romance and adventure books, fantasy, mushrooms 🥺, cats, guitars, picnics, inceses, meditations, study dates, libraries, watercolors and relaxing//acoustic music.

mbti + zodiac sign :: with my mbti is kinda difficult to say because i took different tests and i had two different types as results:: INFJ and INFP. i relate to both in a lot of ways but i still find myself relating to more people or characters that are INFP. my zodiac sign is virgo, my rising taurus and my moon leo.

type :: i dont know if i have a type? i would love to date someone who understands me and makes me feel loved. who's love language are words of affirmation or/and physical touch. someone who, if he does not share interests with me or preferences in dates, can adapt and be willing to learn about the things that i like. someone who will cheer me up. maybe a little dorky? i dont mind if they are not extroverted as long as we help each other to get out of our comfort zone :)) in appearance maybe just not too beefy ah 😅 lol but other than that, someone who will respect me and will make me smile

i think that is it? sorry for making it so long and thank you sooo much for taking your time to do this 🥺🥺 have a great day 💛💛💛

@budibbly

Romantic Matchup

Tendou Satori

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐘𝐚'𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐞𝐭

Ok picture this...

Shonen Jump just came out with a new LIMITED EDITION magazine

These things are just disappearing off shelves

BUT

There is one. Singular. Copy in the store you are currently at

Obviously you see it

And OBVIOUSLY your gonna go get it!

However when you reach to grab it your hand touched the hand of the one and only

Tendou Satori

Both of you had a deadly tight grip on this magazine rn

Neither of you are backing down

You look him dead in the eyes

“I’m sorry sir but I do believe I touched this first”

He looked right back at you

“I’m sorry ma’am but I’m pretty sure I was the one who touched it first”

You both went back and forth bickering about who should get to have the magazine

And that’s when Tendou came out with the GENIUS idea of...

Rock. Paper. Scissors.

Simple, whoever wins gets the magazine

Thus the match began

Long story short Tendou lost 2-1

Seeing his sad face you decided to be nice and offered to read it together at the nearby park

Of course he was gonna agree this is SHONEN JUMP WERE TALKING ABOUT

So you both headed to the park to read

Honestly you busted out the entire magazine within an hour

And after you finished it you two talked about it for about another hour

And shit since you we’re both at the park, why not have a little fun

You guys spent the rest of the day messing around on the playground

You know... harassing kids and shit

And when it was time to go home you both agreed to meet back up next week to discuss more manga

This became sort of a routine for you two

Every Friday you guys would meet up somewhere and talk about or read some manga

And then afterwards you two would go find something fun to do

And over time he started having feelings for you

But poor boy was to scared to tell you

But lucky for him, you also grew to have feelings for him

So YOU where actually the one to confess :D

And he obviously said yes :)

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮

Omg cheesy moment real quick

He loves your smile

Absolutely fricken adores it

Like he will do ANYTHING to see you smile

He loves how positive you can be!

Sometimes Tendou can get a little down on himself

But you can always pick him back up and get him smiling again!!

And he gladly does the same for you :)

Honesty

He likes the fact that you get a little jealous 👀

To him it just shows that you care a lot about him

Annnnd last one

He loves the fact that you enjoy manga as well :D

Because you both have something to do together that you both enjoy!

𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐓𝐨 𝐃𝐨 𝐓𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫

Ok so he obviously likes reading manga with you

HOWEVER

One of his favorite things to do with you is

🥁 🥁 🥁

Exploring mythology with you!!

Honestly tendous kinda into that witchy type of aesthetic

So mythology, crystals, spirits, he’s ALL for it

One time he even invited you ghost hunting ❤️

Fun times

But I’m pretty sure y’all have a ghost tied to you 😀

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐇𝐜

Tendou loves taking you to haunted places!

He genuinely thinks he can talk to ghosts...

He always links your conspiracy theories to paranormal activity

He loves to meditate with you

Especially before a game 😁

He says it “grounds” him

Ever since y’all met you take turns buying weekly shonen jump magazines and snacks

Ok Tendou likes painting

But he ALWAYS makes a mess

Why?

Because he specifically likes FINGER painting 🥲

𝐀𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲

When Taurus and Virgo come together in a love affair, it’s a union of innate practicality.

Both of these Signs employ practicality in their daily lives as the most efficient means to most problems.

They can be quite sincere and devoted to one another; as people, both have a great deal of integrity.

Virgo likes Taurus’s strength and dedication while Taurus appreciates Virgo’s quick mind.

Due to Virgo’s naturally cautious nature, this relationship can take awhile to develop, but once it’s established that both partners are in it for the long haul, it’s like a runaway locomotive, running on its own power and difficult to stop.

These two Signs have much in common: They highly value common sense and practicality; they’re both materialistic but work hard for the creature comforts they so enjoy.

Taurus is more sensual and indulgent than Virgo is; Virgo tends to be the inhibitive force in the relationship, tending not to get involved in the chaos of life in favor of analyzing all available options.

Virgo’s analysis leads to criticism, which Taurus can tend to take too seriously. Conversely, Taurus’s stubborn nature can get on Virgo’s nerves, causing Virgo to criticize even more!

This pair must take care not to take one another too seriously.

The good thing is, they’re similar enough that they can learn to be patient with one another, especially Virgo, who loves to indulge Taurus’s penchant for fine treatment and good food.

Their dedication to working toward the same goals.

Both partners enjoy luxury and nice things, and Virgo likes helping Taurus achieve their goals.

Their common interests and desires make theirs a highly compatible relationship.

𝐎𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜

𝓜𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓼 ✨ 🔮 ✨

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu fandom #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu hcs #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu matchups #Tendou #tendou satori #tendou x reader #tendou x y/n

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anakinthetrashking · 4 years

Text

BnHA One-Shot Fic Recs (pt1)

Making some fic-rec posts has been on my to-do list for a while and I’m finally doing it, yay! Currently I have 6 word doc pages full of just BnHA recs. So I’m splitting them up by length and completion, so first up is (part one of) one-shots! Let’s go!!!

Lets start with some classic Izuku and DadMight!

Pictures, Posters and Tender Beauty by ProPinkist (tumblr: @dazais-guardian-angel ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~4,400 words Summary: Izuku has virtually every All Might-themed item out there, and prides himself on all of it, as Toshinori is well aware. However, somehow, the boy still decided that there was something vital missing. This is fluffy and very cute. No one truly appreciates All Might as much as Izuku does, but 1A comes close. All Might deserves all the love, and this fic truly provides!!!

Dear Mr. All Might by QuizzicalCrow (tumblr: @quizzicalcrow ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,000 words Summary: As the #1 hero for decades, All Might has collected a lot of fan mail over the years. Toshinori tracks down a series of letters that only now, years later, does he appreciate for their significance. I always love the thought of All Might looking through his fan mail, even if he can’t get to all of it. This was a wonderful glimpse into that AND it was made to be so, so personal and sweet. Go have some heart-healing fluff.

Growing Pains by LordofLies (tumblr: @theangelofchildren ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,900 words Summary: Izuku finds himself changed by his encounter with the Hero Killer, but changes of a more physical kind are in store for him as he begins to truly accept One for All as his own. Once, he would have been thrilled to look more like All Might, but now those connections are as much a source of anxiety as they are of pride.Or, Izuku wakes up one morning and sees the world through different eyes. Izuku having anxiety and Toshi being there to help him through it and calm him down? Sign me UP. Its also a pretty cool take on how One for All is able to change things about it’s holder. Could this happen in cannon? Who knows.... Regardless, it was a great read!

I’ll Carry You Home by Renesvetta Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,700 words Summary: While training with All Might, it wasn’t uncommon for Izuku to be so exhausted at the end of the day that he unwittingly fell asleep without regard for where he was. It consequently became part of All Might’s routine to help his young protégé home. During that time, Izuku may have let loose more than one sleepy confession towards his mentor. Yes, it is as adorable as it sounds. Its tagged with “self indulgent Dad Might fluff” which is both accurate and appreciated. In other words: Superb you funky little writer!

Simple Gifts by QuizzicalCrow Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,700 words Summary: One year ago, Izuku received the greatest gift he could ever imagine. Now he’s determined to return the favor for the one responsible for it all with a gift of his own. First off, I love the idea of Izuku and Toshi quietly celebrating the anniversary of passing on OfA from All Might to Izuku. Even just taking the day to hang out with each other. It’s a really precious idea. But there’s not just fluff! Izuku finds himself in a fight, again. (cool villain quirk, too!) I love all of the small details that are in this fic (and in Crow’s other works, too!) anyway its exciting AND very heartwarming, so go read it!!!

Affectionate by Sevi007 (tumblr: @sevi007 ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~2,600 words Summary: Toshinori starts to show affection very easily around his students. The reactions he gets for that are not quite the ones he had anticipated - well, not all of them, at least. Toshi is LOVED, APPRECIATED, and 1A feels like HOME. how many times can i say “cute” and “heartwarming” on this post?? bc these are some amazing writers, whom I adore, and their writing makes my heart WARM. AND. FUZZY. i mean, even just the first few paragraphs of this one just, really sets the scene of what i like to believe the 1A dorm is (on a good day, lol). its a really nice read, so go treat yo’ self by reading it.

paint me in trust by dinomight Rating: G Category: Gen ~6,400 words Summary: The first mark Izuku gets is a slight brush of green across his temple. It’s the soft touch of a mother holding her son for the first time. Inko has one to match, the same shade of green staining the tips of her fingers. Hers is more noticeable; Izuku’s tends to blend into his hairline. He loves it anyways. He has to. It’s the only soulmate mark he has. (Or: how Izuku goes from just green to a rainbow, UA-style.) Ok, so this fic sort of plays off the idea of soulmates, and does not fit in with soulmates in the usual form of the trope. First off its completely platonic. Its categorized as Gen and sticks to that. Also it doesn’t seem to be as obligatory and permanent as you would think it would be. It seems to be more of the universe telling you who has the possibility of being important in your life. I really really loved this, it was so adorable and gives you that sweet, sweet Izuku angst, before healing your heart with the power of friendship and found family!!!

The Die Has Been Cast by ChiwiTheKiwi (tumblr: @chiwithekiwi ) Rating: G Category: Gen ~5,400 words Summary: “There’s something about that kid you aren’t telling me, isn’t there?”When no answer meets him, Shouta tries again.“You know something about Midoriya’s quirk that you haven’t shared with me. Is that right?”(Or: A canon "What If" surrounding the latest manga events and focusing on Aizawa finally making a connection.) First off, this fic has spoilers for the manga, so dont read unless you’re past chp212! I loooooooove OfA reveal fics, especially when it’s Aizawa that finds out. He deserves to know!!! its kind of important!!!! This fic chooses a great moment to work off of, and does a great job with Aizawa’s character. I really enjoyed it and couldn’t keep myself from going back and reading it just now LOL

These last two are actually two-shots, but it makes it an even 10! also Izuku and dadmight, so we can continue the theme here...

Some Unspoken Thing by LittleKy Rating: G Category: Gen ~7,900 words (2chps) Green, Toshinori has always thought, is the color of life anew.(Or: It's time for Yagi Toshinori to finally accept that he has a son, now, in all but blood. It's time for Midoriya Hisashi to accept that as well.) YES ALL MIGHT! ADMIT THAT IZUKU IS YOUR SON! great portrayal of the characters and really hits the nail on the head for DadMight. and Izuku in this story is just the smallest green floof that you wish to give a hug. NEVER MIND ALL MIGHT, YOU TOOK TOO LONG SO IZUKU IS MY SON NOW AND IM NOT GIVING HIM BACK ( no but seriously i want to hug this fic its so cute TTuTT )

LAST BUT NOT LEAST! I See You by BirdAntlers (tumblr: @aarymk )

Rating: G Category: Gen ~15,400 words (2chps) Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless child, blind from birth. Yagi Toshinori is the most powerful man in the world, loved by millions. They could not be more different, and yet their loneliness is the same. (From a pair of AU posts on Tumblr that got way out of hand; I wanted to put it here because it turned into more of a fic than a "what-if." Basically a vessel for me to vomit as much Dadmight as I can.) Hey, you! Yeah! You! Do you want to cry? Do you want to start sobbing in a public space?? Do you just want to be destroyed with words and be left there kneeling at the feet of a writer who has torn out your heart and stomped on it before they gently wipe the tears from your face? Yeah?? y oU Wan NA D IE??? READ THIS AND GET REKT. you’ll thank me later

(under the cut is just me rambling, i kept all the important stuff up here, ur welcome)

Now that the actual recs are over I can rant here- look i really tried to slim my recs down, but i have almost 300 bnha fics bookmarked,some of them are “to read” or theyre in progress, etc but i managed to get this list sorta slimmed down? a little?(to only 58!!!) but as i was gathering this post together it felt like i dont have very many Dadmight recs on that list??? but i havent rechecked all the other fics i was just going through the oneshots. i... kinda read a lot more fics with AIzawa in it instead. it be that way. DadMight content is SO GOOD. but my fav is aizawa im sorryyyyy anyway i have another SEVENteeN oneshots to put in rec posts and that does NOT include the mulitchapter and friikin series and stuff... and like i said this is aaaaaaallllllllllllllll BnHA. batfam fic posts will come after, and then star wars, and then maybe star trek? we’ll see. i have a very specific taste in ST fics and that is Tarsus IV whump. which. i have not read in a while. when they say “that trope came from ST” for sooooooo many tropes, you WISH other fandoms had tarsus as a trope, holy crap it is TOP TIER angst fodder. if you love to write/read whump, angst, and h/c i would HIGHLY recommend that you take a bit of time and explore the content and stories there. heck maybe i will make a ficrec post for just tarsus angst. ok.

my INTENTION is to edit these posts later with little links to the other fic rec lists so that itll be easier to find. but., its me, so itll either happen in painful detail or not at all

asdjkdgh its 2:30am and i need to sleep and not be rambling incoherently again I WILL SAVE THIS AS A DRAFT.

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zigtheeortega · 4 years

Audio

PLATINUM WEEKEND PLAYLIST

in a spurt of energy i decided to finish the playlist i’d been working on for a while! this turned into a raleigh playlist, and i’m a little sorry about it but not really :/ this playlist is nsfw and all of the descriptions are under the cut! [there’s a line separating the spanish-language songs’ explanations]

1. anywhere

we can make love on the bedroom / floating on top of my waterbed / i'm kissing you / running my fingers through your hair / in the hallway / making our way beside the stairs / we can do it anywhere

most singers are influenced by their predecessors, so i have no doubt that raleigh listened to old r&b groups and practiced lead vocals, background vocals, & harmonies to them in the shower. this one stands out to me because i think it captures just the right amount of smooth sensual energy that raleigh exudes at all times. 112 is immaculate and no doubt one of raleigh’s favs.

2. nasty

promise I'ma give it to you like you never had it / i do it so good, it's gon' be hard to break the habit / you're like a whole constellation / swimming like you on vacation / promise i'm still gonna love you when you wake up in the a.m.

you can’t convince me that raleigh didn’t listen to ariana’s album when it dropped and went absolutely wide eyed when they heard these lyrics like “she really went there...” – but then it became a staple of every ~secret playlist to do the horizontal polka to~

3. sex money feelings die

all my lights off when i wake up / tears under my makeup / your lips will stay shut / wanna wake up, break up / i don't wanna think about, think about you / drink up, drink up / i'm so fucked up / all i want is you / no, i don't wanna think about, think about you / sex money feelings die / baby don't you cry

so this is the song i’ve latched onto for my mc dom. i have a headcanon (i think i’ve said it on main a lot, and i’ve even made edits for it) that after the breakup, which everyone else thinks is real, but they think is fake, but is actually real, dom drives to the studio super late at night and just belts out the lyrics while sobbing just to get them off of her shoulders. and it accidentally becomes a hit! which makes raleigh feel even more like shit

4. facetime

back up all that shit you talking / facetimin' my baby tonight, oh / bet you wanna cop a feel / bet you wonder if it's real / facetimin' my baby tonight / and when you coming home / i'm gon' give you all of my love / i'm gon' put it on you / i said ooh you a hell of a drug

not to get too in detail but raleigh is an ~active~ individual, so i have no doubt that during long tours, they’re facetiming mc for some quality time. and this one’s just sensual and sweet like raleigh’s relationship is so!

5. only 1

i know all the competition that's after you / so i get to thinking, is this too good to be true? / i can't, be your, only one / no i can't, be your only one / 'cause you look twice as good as anyone i ever met / and your love is three times better / how could anyone forget? / as I'm layin' down, with you every night / it still gets to me, that you remain by my side / i ain't saying that i'm not deservin' of you / but i was dreaming, bigger than i ever knew

raleigh’s convinced they don’t deserve someone as good as the mc and this for sure seems to be one of those songs that they heard when ari’s album dropped and they were like “jeez this is sappy” then they turn out to relate to it super hard like the clown they are

6. kissin’ on my tattoos

now i ain't ever been the jealous type of guy / but i want you to myself, i can't lie / i know we ain't on no one on one thing / but baby, it should change / 'cause when i be out with other chicks i be thinking 'bout you / and when you be out on dates you be texting me too / i don't want nobody but you / kissin' on my tattoos / i don't want nobody but me / talkin' to you / until you fall asleep / we better stop playing (we better stop playing) / before we mess around and someone gets hurt

now this... this is THE quintessential raleigh song for me. like when i think of raleigh this is THE first song that comes to mind. the entire song beginning to end is raleigh singing about mc. like i am convinced if this existed in their universe, they ghostwrote it for mc. genuinely the MOST raleigh song in existence and i cannot be convinced otherwise

7. life of an outlaw

not gonna put the lyrics but this would absolutely be on one of raleigh’s playlists that they play pre-concert to get hyped up, or a workout playlist. i just feel it in my bones that their fav music is from the 90′s ok

8. watch ‘n’ learn

i'ma do it, do it, do it / on the bed, on the floor, on the couch / only 'cause your lips say make it to my mouth / just because i can't kiss back / doesn't mean you can't kiss that / baby all i need / all doing on me / like you aimed to please / show me how much you mean it / by the way that you please me, baby

another song on their freaky deeky playlist ! i know raleigh’s prob tried to get with rihanna at least once in their lives

9. freaky girls

i'ma be your freak any time or place, any day of the week / said i'ma let you hit it, i ain't scared, i ain't shy, it's cool with me

yet ANOTHER song on their freaky deeky playlist ! sorry im not taking this more seriously im just daydreaming ab the songs that raleigh would add to their secret playlists

10. thinkin’ bout you

thinking bout ya, dreaming bout ya / i don't wanna be without ya / pillow talking, heaven walking / been about ya, still about ya / you ain't gotta worry bout it, baby girl, you know i got you / drinking out the bottle to deal with all my problems like / i should call / i thought i had the right one the last time around

god this is post breakup raleigh through and through. i have a hc that raleigh ghostwrites a lot of songs for people especially ones that fuck with their brand – they collabed on this with micah and a popular rapper and micah was like :/ come on now raleigh i KNOW who this is about

11. un-thinkable

moment of honesty / someone's gotta take the lead tonight, who's it gonna be? / i'm gonna sit right here and tell you all that comes to me / if you have something to say, you should say it right now / you give me a feeling that i never felt before / and i deserve it, i think i deserve it / it's becoming something that's impossible to ignore / and i can't take it / i know you said to me / this is exactly how it should feel when it's meant to be

raleigh’s confession!!!!!!!! lord this reminds me of when they were on the beach together just talking and vibing – or really any time that they took

12. kiss it better

been waiting on that sunshine / boy, I think I need that back / can't do it like that / no one else gonna get it like that / man, fuck your pride, just take it on back, boy / take it on back boy, take it back all night / what are you willing to do? / oh, tell me what you're willing to do? / kiss it, kiss it better, baby

i think raleigh would cover this omg and maybe im biased bc it’s my fav song of all time but it just exudes raleigh energy!! plus i think this might be on their freaky deeky playlist LMAO

13. unrequited love

lost in the flames of love / unrequited love / time won't always heal / and it eats at my mind / because you're the one that got away / sometimes i feel alone / tried to hold my breath / somewhere deep in space / and i felt like you understood / what it truly means to be in love / now i'm wide open, it's so hard to focus / now that it's the end, i guess you'll always be / the one that got away

you know raleigh was super in their feelings after the breakup – i don’t think they knew how fast they’d fall for the mc. even if they didn’t admit it out loud, i think they were convinced they wouldn’t find someone like the mc again. anyways this song is sad as hell

14. you’re mine

come a little closer / let me tell you something / eat your ego honey / honey swallow your pride / i spotted you the second you walked in the building / i knew that you had let me get you high / i wanna hear the things you say when no-one's listening / no one's gonna save you / use you up and break you / i'm the one who plagues you every night / 'cause you're mine.

so the song itself is ab a toxic relationship, but tbh i can picture my mc dom and raleigh singing this duet on stage together and the chemistry would be absolutely off the charts oh my god.

––––

[disclaimer, i do not speak spanish, but i grew up listening to it and a lot of them have a lot of significance to me – i hope the rough translations i found online will do! some of them are very rough so i’ll just put the spanish lyrics]

so with all of these spanish songs im convinced that raleigh would cover any of these! most of them are really romantic and have the same vibe as what i imagine raleigh would have !! not gonna do a lot of explaining here because i think this explanation speaks for itself

15. viento

préstame tu peine / y péiname el alma / desenrédame / fuera de este mundo / dime que no / estoy sonándote / enséñame / de que estamos hechos.

lend me your comb / and comb my soul / untangle me / away from this world / tell me i'm not / dreaming of you / show me / what we’re made of

16. visita

que no es gusto, no es mi voluntad / que es lo que te digo / que aunque no me veas yo voi a estar / siempre contigo / la semana me parte en dos / de viernes a domingo / tu visita me repara cuando nos conecta entonces / quiero que te vengas a vivir, todos los dias conmigo

do not have a translation that makes a lot of grammatical sense for this one, but it’s generally about wanting to be closer to each other and move in together rather than visiting! it’s a really sweet song and the distance aspect reminds me of raleigh and mc

17. te quiero

te quiero / no, ya no me llores / no me vayas a hacer / llorar a mí / dame, dame tu mano / intentalo, mi niña / quiero verte reir / necesito verte / donde quiera que estes / te quiero, te quiero, te quiero / y no hago otra cosa / que pensar en ti / solo vivo y respiro / para ti

i love you / no, don’t cry for me anymore / don’t make me cry / give me, give me your hand / try, my darling / i want to see you laughing / i need to see you / wherever you are / i love you, i love you, i love you / i don’t do anything else / than thinking about you / i only live and breath / for you

imagining raleigh singing this for mc......... swoooooon

18. maría

not offering a translation, but it’s a sad song that i think raleigh would potentially cover!

19. efímera

nos miramos a través del cuerpo y la piel / se conectaron nuestras almas / es que tus ojos de miel deslumbran mi ser / cuando la oscuridad me atrapa / cuando me besas / me siento en otra parte / me hierve la sangre / me derrite el corazón

we saw each other through our bodies and skin / our souls connected / its cause your honey colored eyes dazzle my being / when the darkness traps me / when you kiss me / i feel like i’m in another place / my blood boils / it melts my heart

“it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you” this is one of em for sure

20. obsesion

son las cinco de la mañana y no he dormido nada / pensado en tu belleza en loco voy a parar / el insomnio es me castigo, tu amor será mi alivio / y hasta que no seas mía, no viviré en paz

it’s five in the morning and i haven’t slept at all / thinking bout your beauty, i’m gonna end up crazy / insomnia is my punishment, your love will be my relief / and until you’re mine, i will not live in peace

raleigh and mc would duet this!!!! the lyrics themselves aren’t really about their relationship but i think the vocals would be perfect for them

21. quiero ver

quiero ver tu risa todo el día / escuchar la melodía de tu voz / quisiera ser el brillo de tus ojos / el peine que desnuda tu esplendor / la esquina que te ve cuando caminas / y quiero ser tu último dolor / te pido que me cures esta herida / yo sé muy bien que no es tu obligación / tan sólo si amortiguas mi caída / será mi salvación

i want to see your smile all day / listen to the melody of your voice / i wish i could be the brightness of your eyes / the comb that undresses your splendor / the corner that sees you when you walk / i want to be your last pain / i ask you to heal this wound / i know very well it’s not your obligation / just only if you cushion my fall / it’ll be my salvation

this one makes me so soft oh my god and its another “it’s like every song i’ve ever written was about you” type of song

22. más que tu amigo

es un secreto / que tan solo quiero compartir / con esos ojos / que le han dado luz a mi vivir / y en esta noche no hay más luna / que como tú me alumbre más / que en mi alma crece una fortuna / por tanta dicha que me das / te quiero, te quiero / se oye en mi pecho / es el grande amor que me has hecho / latido a latido / te siento conmigo / yo quiero ser más que tu amigo

it is a secret / i just want to share / with those eyes / that give me light to live / and tonight there is no more moon / that shines on em as brightly as you do / in my soul grows a fortune / for such happiness that you bring me / i love you, i love you / you can hear in my chest / it’s the great love you’ve made me / heartbeat to heartbeat / i feel you with me / i want to be more than your friend

god i can just imagine them singing this to mc teasingly during their fake relationship and she’s like “sounds pretty i love your voice” but it’s really a confession AHHH

23. peligroso pop

no explanation on this one either! i just think this spanglish song would no doubt be on a playlist of raleigh’s !!! i’m also imagining raleigh dancing to this or going to this artists’ concert or something. idk it just reminds me of him !!!

24. eres

aquí estoy a tu lado / y espero aquí sentado hasta el final / no te has imaginado / lo que por tí esperado, pues eres / lo que yo amo en éste mundo, eso eres / cada minuto lo que pienso, eso eres / lo que más cuido en este mundo, eso eres

here i am by your side / and i’ll wait here, sitting, until the end / you haven’t imagined / what i’ve waited for you, because you are / what i love in this world, that’s what you are / every minute in what i think, that’s what you are / what i treasure most in this world, that’s what you are

this entire song is raleigh singing to mc, but like this little section is just SO sappy. that one line i keep mentioning? yeah that’s this song

25. locos

estoy contento de tenerte cerca / muy cerca de mí / que me digas loco / que me des besos / y que te rías de mí / y sé que nunca te lo he dicho / y me da miedo confesar / pero antes, quiero besarte / que llevo loco, tratando de decirte / que ya no puedo vivir sin ti

i’m happy because you’re close / very close to me / cause you call me crazy / cause you give me kisses / and laugh at me / and i know i’ve never told you this / and i’m afraid to confess / but first, i want to kiss you / i’m crazy, trying to tell you / that i can no longer live without you

god this reminds me of raleigh so much like ??? ok i dont know if this makes sense but imagine raleigh not being able to quite say the words they’re feeling so they just sing a song in spanish instead because they one, express their feelings through lyrics better and two, they know mc doesn’t understand spanish (this is specifically for non spanish speaking mcs)

26. no te puedo olvidar

sé que nunca me equivoqué / en lo que siento / y cuando me tocas la piel / me desvanezco / sé que miraremos a la última estrella / así nos conectaremos / yo te necesito más de lo que piensas / más de lo que puedo creer / vives en mí y en mi materia / no te quedo olvidar

i know i was never wrong / about what i feel / and when you touch my skin / i vanish / i know we’re gonna stare at the last star / that’s how we’ll connect / and i need you more than you can imagine / more than you can believe / you live in me and in my matter / i can’t forget you

this is one of the most romantic songs i swear to gooooddddd i think if raleigh and mc ever broke up this would be what they wrote afterwards – but also i think in general he’d write this about her without the breakup ! idk i’m just in love with this song. anyways

OKAY I’M DONE RAMBLING I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS PLAYLIST !!!! this is what i’ve been listening to while i’ve been reblogging posts today !!!

#playchoices #platinum #platinumweekend #raleigh carrera #raleigh carrera x mc #playlist

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begluketostay · 4 years

Text

don’t wanna fall in love (c.h.)

summary: you don’t want to give him your heart but he already has it

author’s note: haven’t read the entire thing yet through and edited, so there may be some mistakes. just wanted to get this out there because i’m tired of staring at it :) also, ironically, i listened to the song wicked game by chris isaak on repeat while writing this but couldn’t name it that bc i named my last oneshot after wicked game by the weeknd oops

word count: 4038

You remember the night you met Cal.

He was all smiles and chubby cheeks and drunken happy dancing as you all celebrated the birthday of a friend.

You were used to meeting famous people - living in Los Angeles had made the glamour and shininess of celebrities wear off, and while you were starstruck your first couple years there, you were used to it now. Having friends in the music business gave you the in to meet so many people, and you often found they were just like everybody else, only they had a lot more money and the freedom to do whatever the fuck they wanted.

So having a half-drunken hookup with Calum wasn’t anything significant at the time. It was just like hooking up with anyone else.

Except that he actually called you like he said he would afterwards.

And then he started inviting you to more parties and kickbacks and hangouts.

And then you actually started getting kind of… attached.

It was foolish of you. While celebrities were like everyone else to you, they were different in one way: they were undateable. You’d sworn off ever getting into a relationship with a celebrity, especially any musicians, because you knew the paparazzi and the traveling and the pressure and the fans would be too much. It just wasn’t the lifestyle you wanted to commit yourself to forever.

That’s why you can’t stop feeling a twist in your stomach as Calum gets closer and closer to you, arms nearly touching as you’re all bunched up in the corner talking at another one of Ashton’s house parties. Luke says something dumb and everyone is laughing, but your head is somewhere else, fixating on the heat of Calum’s skin barely brushing yours and hoping that no one here can read minds or else you’re screwed.

Calum presses his elbow into your side, looking at you with his brows furrowed. “You good?” he mouths over the music, concern on his face. You’re normally pretty talkative, but you haven’t said a thing during this conversation.

You nod, taking a sip out of the beer in your hand and trying your hardest to focus on the discussion at hand as Luke and Sierra argue over who got the most drunk at Ashton’s last party.

“I’ll be right back,” you say before you sneak away to the kitchen, finishing off your beer and throwing it in the trash and opening the fridge to get a new one. You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself.

You know Calum is off limits to you, that it will only end in heartbreak for the both of you, and that you can’t let that happen. But it’s so hard to focus when he’s around you, and it’s almost like you’re starting to forget what would be so bad about getting your heart broken by him. You’d have the pleasure of having him for at least a little while.

A deep breath and another sip of beer has you feeling composed enough to go back and rejoin the circle of your friends, but they’ve dispersed now and you’re left trying to track down someone you know in the packed house.

A pair of arms wraps around you from behind, lifting you up in the air and swinging you around. Your squeals stop as soon as they put you down, and you already know that when you turn around you’re going to find a head of bleached blonde hair and full lips turned up in laughter.

“Cal!” you swat him, rolling your eyes. “You could’ve made me spill my beer,” you pout.

“Ah, but I didn’t,” he points out with a smirk on his face. “I’m talented at what I do.”

You smile unamused, shaking your head at him.

“You alright though? You looked a little out of it earlier,” he mentions.

“Yeah, just a bit tired. Long day at work,” you shrug, “but I didn’t wanna miss the party.”

He studies you, seeing the tired lines under your eyes and wishing that he could make them disappear. He knows how hard you work and how important your job is and thinks that it’s so badass that you do what you do. He thinks it’s badass that even though you have such a hard job, you can still outdrink the rest of them and light up the room when you walk in.

“Wouldn’t be a party without you,” he nods. “That’s why I noticed ya when we first met. You were the life of the party.”

You can see the truth in his eyes as he speaks and it makes you want to melt into him. He makes it so hard to resist him.

“Oh, shut up,” you groan, bumping your shoulder against his playfully.

After a while, people are starting to leave, slowly trickling out until it’s only those who are close friends left in the living room, sitting on the couches and so deep in conversation that they don’t even notice the room emptying out.

“I’m not ready to go home,” Calum sighs, looking around. “I get a little lonely after drinking so much wine. Not totally sure I should be going home and sitting in the dark,” he admits, eyes flickering to yours to try and gauge your reaction.

You kick the ground with the toe of your shoes, trying to decide if you should offer him to join you tonight, not sure if it would be a good idea. But when you look up and see those chocolate eyes, genuine hesitation and loneliness in them, you don’t care if it’s a bad idea anymore. You want to protect him from all things sad.

“You could come to mine for a bit?” you suggest, biting your lip. “We can watch a movie or something maybe,” you shrug. His eyes light up with warmth at the offer. He nods.

“Alright.”

--------------------

You pop open a bottle of red wine as you and Calum settle on the couch, pouring each of you a glass to sip on as he searches for something to put on the tv. His arms flex just slightly each time he clicks on the remote and you can’t peel your eyes off of him. You look up and realize he’s turned towards you, asking your opinion on a show, and you know he’s caught you staring by the way the end of his sentence just kind of fades out. His eyes are latched onto you now.

The air feels like it’s thickening around you and you can’t bring yourself to tear your eyes away from him. It was much easier when the two of you weren’t alone in the silence of your empty apartment.

“You’re something else tonight,” Calum bites his bottom lip and shakes his head. “God, you know exactly what you do to me.”

“What do I do to you?” you ask.

“Make it feel like all the air is sucked out of the room,” he admits. “Like I can’t breathe.”

You adjust yourself in your seat, looking down at the floor. You know where this is going to go, and you’re not sure you can handle it if it does.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he affirms. “Ever since I met you. God, you don’t even realize how you are,” he laughs. “You light up the room when you walk in. Can’t ever keep my eyes off you.”

He’s spent weeks thinking about your drunken hookup, wishing he had been softer and sweeter and savored your lips on his body. Wishing he’d gotten you out of the dress you’d been wearing and been able to see you and feel you all the way. There were so many things he’d have done differently now.

“You don’t care that I’m famous or that I have money or any of that shit. You still call my ass out and put me in my place and drive me crazy,” he chuckles. “I’ve been trying to make moves for weeks now and you keep pulling away from me and acting like we’re just friends, but I... I can’t be just friends with you.”

You bite your lip, not sure how to answer him. You know that what you want, more than anything in this moment, is him.

But it’s not that simple.

Your last heartbreak was so hard to get over. It took months and months of tears and distractions and drunken nights out at bars and fake smiles to get you to a point where you could even live your life normally again. And you already liked Calum more than it was healthy, way more than you’d ever liked any boy this early on.

You knew if you gave in, if you let him in, that he would have the total power to absolutely wreck you. He’d be able to crumple your heart in his fist and throw it away. It was terrifying.

And you knew how much he’d be on the road, especially having just released an album. As soon as he’d get back home, he’d have to be busy in the studio. Every time the two of you would go out, there would be pictures and camera flashes and crazy fans. You’d have to put your social media on private and remember how to calculate time zone differences and become best friends with facetime and heartache.

The soft, hesitant touch of Calum’s hands against your face bring you back to the present. The calluses on his palm are rough against your cheek and you fight off a shiver as your eyes go to his. There’s a softness in them, and you’ve never seen Calum look so… afraid.

“I really like you,” he murmurs. “I know it’s scary.”

You nod in agreement. It is scary.

He hasn’t dated anyone in a long time. It wasn’t because he hadn’t wanted to or he didn’t have the opportunity - there were plenty of decent girls that he’d crushed on over the years. But he didn’t want to put them through the pain of dating him. He knew that there were a lot of unfair things that came with a relationship with him. He felt guilty and ashamed asking someone to deal with all the baggage of loving someone always on the road.

You nod.

“I know it’s not fair of me to ask you for anything. I know I’ll be gone a lot and it’s not ideal. But I really like you.”

You sigh, closing your eyes as his fingers trace patterns on the skin behind your ears comfortingly. He’s so soft and safe and cozy, even when his shirt smells like beer and his heart is racing.

“I don’t wanna fall in love,” you whisper. Your eyes are still closed at your confession, and you feel so small and vulnerable. “I know you’ll be able to break my heart and I know I won’t recover if you do.”

He shifts and pulls you closer to him until your face is in his neck and your knees are curled up in his lap. No words are exchanged as the two of you sit in the quietness of your living room, breathing in each other’s air.

“I won’t break your heart,” he murmurs against the top of your head. His hand is moving up and down your back slowly, heating your entire body with every movement. “Wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if I did.”

“No one ever means to break someone’s heart,” you say.

“I know,” he kisses the top of your head.

And then he kisses the top of your ear, and your cheek, and his hand lightly grips your chin and tilts you up to face him before he kisses you right on the lips.

He’s soft and sweet and the opposite of everything he was the last time he kissed you. There’s no rush now, and you’re both filled with red wine instead of vodka, soft and sleepy as your lips meet over and over again.

He pulls you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his waist as he lets his fingers trail up and tangle themselves in your hair. You let yourself relax into him, his tongue parting the seam of your lips and you open your mouth to him, letting him explore you. Instead of rough tongues battling for dominance like last time, it’s a timid exploration. He wants to memorize what every part of you feels like.

One of his hands lowers until it slides down into the back pocket of your jeans, cupping the curve of your backside and holding on tightly. You arch your back against him, and he moves his mouth from your lips to your neck, pulling you close until your chest is pressed flush against him and his teeth nip at your throat.

Ever so slowly, he plants kisses all the way down your throat, soft and light against your skin, until he reaches your collarbone, leaving little marks against you as he goes.

“Please,” he whispers against your skin, and you can feel every movement of his lips brush against your chest. “Tell me you want me.”

“Cal -” you start.

“No,” he whispers, cutting you off. “Don’t think about anything else. Think about right now. Do you want me?”

You grasp at the short hair on his head, pulling on it to raise his head to look at you. You nod, and that’s the only answer he needs. He reaches behind you and grabs the bottom of your top, pulling it over your head swiftly before he reattaches his mouth to your chest, suckling the skin exposed by the top of your bra as you hold him close. Warm fingers dig into the skin of your back, feeling around for the clasp of your bra and unhooking it. Slowly, gingerly, he slides the straps down your arms and drags the fabric off of you.

There’s a breeze across your chest and you feel even more exposed and vulnerable, but it feels right to open yourself up to him like this. He lips close around a nipple, tongue swirling it over and you throw your head back, mouth open as you hold back soft whimpers.

His hands are moving all over you, desperate to feel every inch of you before you change your mind. You reach down and yank his shirt off to you and press your bodies together to feel the warmth of the skin to skin contact, lips meeting once again as he reaches down to unbutton your jeans. Legs still wrapped around his waist, he stands and rushes to your bedroom, barely able to get the door open in his frenzy.

You’re laid down on the bed and he’s hovering over you, unzipping you and pulling the jeans carefully down, pressing soft kisses on the skin of your legs as it becomes exposed. Once the fabric is finally off, he makes his way back up, stopping to press his lips softly over the center of your underwear, just barely enough pressure for you to feel it, but it’s enough to send goosebumps across your body.

Lips meet again in a tangled frenzy, soft and slippery and yearning for each other, and you don’t even take the time to breathe between kisses anymore. It’s getting frantic and desperate and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep your hands off of him. Your nails scratch down his back as his mouth engulfs you and his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you as close as he can possibly get you.

“You want me?” he asks again, breathless and lust-filled. You nod again, but that’s not enough for him this time. “Say it,” he commands. “Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you breathe.

“How badly?” he continues.

Truthfully, you want him so badly it feels like you could burst. So you grab the back of his neck and try to pull him back to you, hips lifting upwards desperate for contact. He pulls away, unsatisfied.

“How badly?” he repeats, pushing your hips down against the mattress.

“So bad, Cal,” you sigh. “Please - just c’mere,” you practically beg, still trying to pull his face back to yours.

Content with that answer, he kisses you again, but his hand is snaking down and teasing you over your underwear with light, delicate touches. You moan out, and his pants get a little tighter just from hearing you.

His fingers dance over the skin of your inner thighs, leaving ghosts of traces where you want him most until you’re almost writhing beneath him.

“Please,” you whimper again, and it spurs him on enough to finally add some pressure, pushing down and rubbing on the little bundle of nerves right below the only fabric you’re wearing.

He yanks your underwear off impatiently now and lets his fingers explore the most secret part of you, feeling the wetness on your outer lips before spreading them and collecting more of the juice on his fingers. You’re moaning and he’s moaning and you’re both lost in the exploration of your body.

He reaches a hand up slowly and sucks on his fingers, tasting you for the first time. You watch as his lips pucker around his fingers and he takes them out, holding them up to your lips right after for you to do the same thing. It’s strangely arousing, tasting yourself and his mouth at the same time, and it feels so intimate.

When he pulls his fingers out of your mouth, he presses his forehead against yours and kisses the tip of your nose so lightly. “So pretty,” he murmurs, and the moment is so soft and tender and it feels like time has frozen and then suddenly his fingers are back against you and moving in fast circles until you’re left unable to breathe.

“Oh my god,” you gasp when he slowly plunges his fingers into you, moving around and stretching you out. He’s slow and steady, curling his fingers and testing different methods until you grab onto his arm, nails digging into the skin, and moan loudly, mouth thrown open and back arched, and he knows he’s found the right spot.

His arms are flexing deliciously, muscles and veins popping out, as he continually hits that spot inside you with his fingers, watching eagerly as you become more and more unhinged and desperate beneath him.

You’re still holding back, and he can tell. “C’mon,” he mumbles against you. “It’s okay, I’m right here. Let go,” he encourages you, and it’s what you need, because you’re becoming undone and gasping and groaning and writhing and he’s never seen anything more beautiful in his life than this.

“Good girl,” he kisses your forehead and you slump against the mattress, skin growing sticky with sweat.

“Cal,” you whisper, reaching for him until he brings his lips back to yours. You wrap your arms around him and feel his skin beneath the palms of your hands, craving his touch. His pants are still on, but you’re determined to change that as you reach to undo them, attempting to pull them off his hips, but he stands up and gets them off himself. Much faster that way.

He’s rock hard from the show you’ve put on and desperate to get inside you. He pushes away your hands and positions himself right above you, lining himself up.

“I wanna do it right this time,” he says seriously, looking you in the eyes and swallowing. “Wanna go slow. ‘S that okay?”

You close your eyes, so ridiculously turned on by the fact that he wants to go slowly and carefully with you, heart fluttering at the effect this boy has on you. You nod and moan as you feel him against you, coating himself in your juices before slowly pushing in. You feel every inch of him as he lets his hips move forward, both of your mouths hanging open as you take it in.

“Feel so fucking good,” he groans lowly, stopping once his entire length is inside you and breathing. You’ve never felt this full before. He pauses there for a moment to allow you to adjust to all the stretching before he starts to move, pulling his hips back before rolling them forward again.

He reaches for your hands and pins them above your head, fingers intertwined as he continues his movements, rocking in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

This is the opposite of the last time he had been inside you. Before it was frantic and drunk and sloppy, but this time it was calm, careful.

You feel so safe with him, engulfed in his body as he shows you how much he wants you in the best way he knows how. Your foreheads press together and your arms wrap around his back, pulling his chest up against yours as you both lose yourselves in each other, panting and crying out as you reach your highs.

He rolls off of you, pulling you to the side to curl up next to him, not wanting to break the contact between you even though you’re both covered in sweat. When you look at him, you agree that it does feel like all of the air is sucked out of the room, just like he said.

You know it’s too late to keep your heart out of it now. It’s already too late. You know that you’ll break your own heart if you try to stop what’s already started now, so you have no choice to give in.

“Don’t break me,” you whisper against him.

“Never,” he smiles softly, kissing the top of your head and closing his eyes, happy with you in his arms.

------------------------------

You smile at your phone as Calum’s face pops on the screen, your nightly FaceTime waiting.

It’s been hard with him on tour, especially with your relationship being so new, but it’s been okay so far. You miss him at night, having gotten used to him staying over each night for the few weeks before he left, and he misses waking up next to you in the morning instead of in a new hotel bed, cold and alone.

The FaceTimes were holding both of you over for now until he flew you out for one of the shows in the next few weeks.

“Hey,” Calum’s bright smile filled your screen, camera way too close to his face. “There’s my girl,” he smiles softly, proud to be able to call you that.

“Of course,” you respond, pushing the hair out of your face as you look into the camera and examine yourself. Your eyes look happier. You can tell. “What are you up to?”

He raises the camera and shows the room he’s sitting in, plopped on a couch by himself as the boys are messing around in the background. “Just got to the venue for tonight, we’re just setting some things up,” he says. You can see Luke and Michael play fighting behind Calum and laugh.

“Seems like you guys are having fun,” you chuckle as Michael falls to the ground overdramatically.

Calum nods as he looks over at his friend, but gets up off the couch and moves out of the room, walking to what looks like an empty concrete hallway. “Yeah, it’s fun,” he says, “but I miss ya. Wish you were here to make it more fun.”

“Just a couple more weeks,” you sigh.

“Thanks for putting up with me traveling and the phone calls at weird hours and the sporadic texts,” he mumbles, still feeling guilty.

“Hey,” you coo. “Don’t apologize. It’s worth it.”

You know in your heart that it is worth it, that he’s worth it and your relationship is worth it. You’ve fully accepted that he has your heart and all the power to break it, but you trust that he won’t.

And Calum knows as he looks at the sparkle in your eye and feels his heart pang in his chest that he won’t ever break your heart.

He knows that if he breaks your heart, his would break as well. So for now, you’d just have to trust each other and finally let yourselves fall in love.

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever.

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these.

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!!

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them.

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words.

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling.

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up.

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it.

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved.

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic."

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose.

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall.

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself.

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break.

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed.

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes.

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out.

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air.

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met.

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality.

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them.

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken.

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow.

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer.

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive.

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat.

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink?

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much.

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth.

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive.

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm.

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.”

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes.

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear.

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.”

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth.

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little.

“Warm me up?”

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest.

“Casper, are you ever scared?”

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it.

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit.

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.”

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer.

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.”

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has.

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another.

“Have you ever seen a light?”

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him.

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.”

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning.

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love.

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?”

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth.

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder.

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table.

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that.

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first.

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom.

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath.

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.”

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table.

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time.

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what.

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers.

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard.

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him.

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though.

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board.

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer.

“Why?!” You demand.

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch.

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan.

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself.

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again.

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down.

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang.

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment.

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?”

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing.

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything.

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot.

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?”

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.”

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though.

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it.

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.”

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him.

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.”

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly.

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants.

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you.

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you.

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

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