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snurtsnurtcreations · 3 days ago

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The Ghost in the Moors

Johnny Mactavish x Simon Riley x Reader

Hey y'all, enjoy my most recent, incredibly persistent brainworm that's resulted in this word vomit. Heavily heavily inspired off the vibes of The Secret Garden and Jane Eyre

Warning: I wrote a sad ending for this one. Major character death y’all, so watch out.

The distinguishable gentleman Mactavish has at long last taken a wife. His heart is not truly in the marriage, but that is perfectly understandable for a man of his standing in high society. (He’s never been so listless before his dearest friend, Simon Riley, died- but those are just the whispers of his staff). He is not cruel or particularly dismissive of his wife, but… it is clear he does not care much for you either.

Not minding much, you take on the duties of the estate admirably. The staff all respect you greatly, and you find fulfillment in many a task surrounding the care of the grounds. Regrettably, however, you do end up falling in love with your husband from the glimpses of him that you get interacting with the staff, with animals, with children… You’d wanted to avoid catching feelings for him when you knew from the get-go that this was a marriage of convenience, but there is a true goodness in him and a charm just past the deep gloom that settles on his countenance.

The thing is though, the Mactavish estate holds a secret. Late at night one might hear a haunting howling. On the dreariest of days, when the fog lies thick and curling over the moors, you’d swear there was a dark presence wandering the grounds. And no one dared enter the abandoned walled-off garden. There is great evil brewing there, the staff would say. It was never particularly dangerous before that one night that… oh, well, they really shouldn’t say.

You start trying to investigate into this mystery. How could it be that there is a whole garden, a plot of considerable size, that no one had access to? What is it that all the staff are nervously tipping-toeing around saying? And why are all past accounts of an energetic and joyous Johnny so false in the face of the cold, impassive character in the present day?

One stormy day, they take in a group of people passing by to provide them some refuge until the storm passes. One of them, an old woman, confidently claims there is a ghost in their midst. The crack of lightning and thunder immediately following her statement does not lend itself well to the doubt of such a statement. Neither does the nervous silence of the staff. Johnny, however, is adamant that such talk is nonsense.

Later, you take the old woman aside, and ask more about what led her to such a conclusion earlier. The old lady just pats your hand and cheerfully says, “Because I am a witch, dearie- I have a sensitivity to these sorts of things.”

You decide far be it from you to question an old lady, but ultimately you do not take much stock in her words. (Though, you make note in your mind, you may not believe it to be true, but you certainly don’t believe it entirely false either…)

You spend your days occupied with the goings-on of the estate, but occasionally you go for a walk around the grounds, reveling in the feeling of being surrounded by rolling hills and nothing but moorland and some sheep in the distance.

A horse comes galloping down the road, and the rider brings it to a full stop as he nears you, the horse rearing it’s head at the suddenness, it’s hooves clipping against the ground anxiously. It’s Johnny. He seems surprised to see you.

“What are ya doing all the way out here, my lady?”

“Simply out for a stroll, my lord.” You answer, confused.

“Is that where you’ve been disappearing for hours? You’ve got all the staff on edge.”

“My apologies, my lord, I hadn’t meant to-“

“Just let them know when you go out next, is all.” And that concludes the conversation. His expression hardly changes as he gallops back out to whatever business he must attend to.

His back and forth attitude confuses you. Just this morning you saw him jump up from the breakfast table to go see to an injured lamb on his property, but now here with you he is cold and impassive.

Still you make attempts to connect with him, and dutifully continue doing your countess tasks.

When one day you ask Johnny on an evening stroll about the garden, what starts as an innocent question becomes a full blown argument as he gets increasingly more upset and angry at you. You cannot for the life of you understand what is making him so irritated about it- you just wanted to know more about this garden!

“Fine! You wish to know about the garden? Let me show you the garden.” He snarls in his fit of rage and grabs you by the wrist. You stumble after him as he stomps to the walled garden, brushes aside the vines to reveal a door and lock that you would otherwise have never known was there. He pulls a key off a chain around his neck and slams the lock open, yanking you into the garden.

The thing is, the sun is setting, the sky darkening rapidly- likely due to the dark clouds brewing on the horizon, inching closer and closer with the strong winds. You are entirely uneasy. The last thing you’d wanted was to see this garden in such conditions, with Johnny in such a rage. For the first time in your stay here, Johnny’s made you truly afraid as he guides you deeper into the garden. You softly plead for him to stop, to slow down, but your pleas seem to fall on deaf ears.

The garden is so large it’s practically a forest of its own. The plants are so overgrown, the bushes towering over you may as well be walls, and the vines and roots taking over the ground seem to make it their mission to trip you up. Already you have lost sight of where the door was.

“Here. Here is the god damned garden.” He says as he tugs you even deeper into the foliage. Your foot snags on a root, and this time you fall to the ground. Your fall causes him to pause a few steps ahead, and you wonder if it might have pulled him out of his episode. But then he turns to you with a manic grief-stricken glint in his eyes, spreading his arms out demonstrably. “Is this what you wanted to see so badly? The ruined remains of whatever good I’d had?” Johnny roars.

You can only stare up at him, teary-eyed and confused. He opens his mouth to say more, but the wind makes a whisper noise akin to what you’d swear sounded like someone saying “Johnny…”. Both your heads snap towards the sound. You see nothing but the swaying branches, but Johnny’s sharp inhale has you turning back to him. His face is pale as you have never seen it before, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“No, no…” He whispers. Never had you seen such deep terror in anyone’s face. Just as you are about to ask what is the matter, he turns and sprints away as though he had all the hounds of hell on his tail.

“Johnny!” You shout in alarm, but by the time you have risen to your feet, he is already out of sight. You run in the same direction he took, but it is difficult to navigate the garden, especially now that the sun is gone and darkness coats everything. Branches slap painfully against your face whilst your hands are busy hiking up your skirts, so you drop one side to shield your head. “Johnny!” You shout again, with a growing panic as you realize you don’t know where he went or where you should go to exit the garden.

Nothing answers back except the howling of the wind.

You come to a complete stop. You cannot even hear any sound of Johnny’s movements. Looking around provides you with no clues for where to go. Your breath hitches, but you bite down your panic and steel your nerves.

“Alright,” you mumble to yourself, “alright, no need to panic. I must simply find one of the walls and follow it until I reach the door.” With your newfound inkling of bravery, you set off in one direction, attempting to keep as straight a line as you can with the bushes and trees in the way. A nearby owl taking off nearly makes you jump in fright, but you push onward. Just as you reach a wall, setting a hand on the stone bricks with triumph, the first drop of rains hits your nose.

Your spirits take a swan dive as the heavens open up a torrent of downpour. You try to hurry along the wall, but it is difficult to do when there are huge swathes of overgrown plants that you must find a way to step around, then find the wall again. It is only when it starts to rain so hard that you can’t keep your head up without droplets obscuring your vision that you decide to perhaps wait it out a little. You find the largest tree within your limited line of sight and hug yourself close near its trunk. Underneath the canopy of the tree, the rainfall is lessened, allowing you to see just how hard it is raining outside the cover of the leaves. You let yourself sink down to the ground when shivers start to wrack your form and the rain shows no signs of easing up.

You sniffle miserably. If you let a few tears loose, well, who would be any the wiser whether the droplet down your cheek originates from the sky or your eye?

“I’m so stupid.” You murmur despondently, “Never should have brought it up in the first place.”

But you still when it feels as though a hand is wiping your tears. You turn to the source and see- nothing. And yet the warmth along your cheeks is undeniable. Some unseen hand slides down your hair and settles a warm, warm palm against the back of your neck. Your breath is caught in your throat, your eyes searching for someone who is not there.

“Don’t give up…” A voice whispers, “Take care of him.”

You blink the tears from your eyes, wiping the remaining wetness off your cheeks.

“Alright.” You take a steadying breath, “I- I will.” And your voice carries true conviction, because truth be told, you would have kept taking care of Johnny either way, for your love for him runs deep, even though today has not been the first time you’d thought perhaps it shouldn’t run so deep.

An approving hum, and then a feeling akin to being embraced. You allow the warmth to seep into your skin, to chase your doubts away, your hands hovering in uncertainty.

“Who… who are you?” You whisper. The warmth pulls away.

“Only a ghost.” Is all the answer you get. Then there is a distinct emptiness in the air, and you feel as though whatever presence was here has left now, yet you still ask,

“But what is your name?”

No answer.

You rise and look around. The rain is not as heavy as it was before. You set back off to follow the wall, when you hear an anxious voice calling your name from somewhere within the walls of the garden.

“I’m here!” You answer. Soon Johnny emerges through the foliage, looking entirely guilty, but relieved to have found you. He hurriedly wraps a cloak around you.

“I’m so sorry, my lady, I- I never should have brought you here, let alone have had the impudence to leave you in the dark unaccompanied- I am truly- truly sorry.” He stumbles over his words, worried eyes examining your form.

“It’s… it’s alright, my lord” You let him wrap your hand round his elbow and lead you out of the gardens. Despite the darkness and overgrowth, it seems he knows exactly where he’s going. “You looked terrified when you fled- what was it that sent you away in such a hurry?”

“Perhaps that old woman was right.” He says in a hushed tone, like a confession, “For a moment, I could have sworn I’d… seen a ghost.”

As you approach the door to the garden, you think it could very well be true- in the corner of your eye you catch sight of the large ghostly form of a scarred man, fading in and out of reality.

Following that day, you keep your promise to the ghost, caring for Johnny in whatever ways you can, making sure everything in the estate runs smoothly, having food be brought up to him when he misses his lunches, being a comforting presence in the evenings in the library when the fire runs low and it is obvious he is restless with the silence of the house.

He has even begun speaking to you a little about his past, which you’d like to think is because he’s warming up to you, but rationally you reason it is more likely because he still feels guilty for his actions that day. Sometimes he speaks of his old friends, men he had served in the military with when the war had been ongoing. Once he’d confessed that the garden was a gift to his old love. You hadn’t pried, but you could tell this old love of his was still enduring to this day, his face struck with grief as he spoke of it. He’d soon excused himself to retire for the night, as though suddenly remembering it’s you he was speaking to.

During one peaceful evening, you had gently asked permission to restore the garden. He had seemed uneasy with the idea, but then schooled his expression to appear nonchalant, and shrugged you off with a “sure, why not?”. His reaction had almost made you take back the offer, but then your mind flashed back to the ghost, and you felt in your bones that it would be better in the long run to set the garden back to it’s former glory, in honor of whoever it had been initially made for.

It became your personal little pet project. You did not include the staff in this effort, your gut warning you against it, as though the inclusion of others would somehow desanctify the garden. So bit by bit every day, you would go in and weed and trim and do what you could on your lonesome. Many evenings you’d be found in the library reading up on gardening books, and often you’d question the local farmers on plant caretaking - you would have asked the gardener of your estate, but it turns out you didn’t have one. The staff had told you Johnny had never bothered replacing the previous gardener. When you’d asked what happened to the previous one, they all fell silent.

There were days you knew you were not alone in the garden as you tended to the plants and cleared pathways. Somehow you could always tell when the ghost would come to join you, unseen though he was. Sometimes his eyes digging into the back of your neck, other times his hands brushing some plants away to reveal your misplaced trowel.

Eventually, perhaps once it became clear to him that this isn’t some passing fad but a permanent routine for you, he begins conversing with you. Just small quips at first, a ‘that one’s a weed’ here, a ‘don’t trip’ there. You always respond with a thank you, and try valiantly not to pry with all your burning questions. As time goes on he speaks more. He has a habit of telling you silly jokes (ones a proper lady probably ought not to laugh at) that have you giggling while you’re weeding. Oftentimes he starts talking about a specific plant and how best to care for it. You listen closely, enraptured by his vast knowledge, and even start bringing a journal to write down notes. (Sometimes he huffs out a laugh when you write something down with wide eyes, though you’re uncertain whether that was actually a laugh or just a gust of wind sweeping over your hair). On especially foggy days, you can nearly see him fully- which you’d think would be counter-intuitive, but it is almost as though the fog lends him form. It does not last long though, only a flicker and then he is a disembodied voice once more.

Every once in a while, you hear Johnny approaching the garden door while you are inside. The ghost always falls silent when it happens, and it feels as though all three of you are holding your breath. But always Johnny pauses by the door, stands for but a minute, and retreats back. The ghost becomes much more reserved after Johnny leaves, not joking any more nor speaking as much. It takes a few day’s time before he opens up again.

Sometimes, though rarely, you admit to the ghost how deeply in love you are with Johnny. He answers with a knowing chuckle, saying “He’s easy to love.” The ghost will let you wax on poetic about little moments that made the yearning in your heart pulse like a blooming bruise. How he handled a tough situation with the servants, treating them fairly and compassionately. How he scaled up a tree in town to get a farmer’s cat down, effortlessly climbing up the branches and gently cradling the cat. The way he looked at you over dinner with those piercing eyes of his, how the light catches in them so handsomely. The ghost only sighs wistfully, as if he shared your yearning all the same.

“But I know he dislikes me.” You confess, “He still longs for his old love, the one he built this garden for, and resents me for taking the place of his beloved. I feel he wishes he had never met me, let alone married me.”

“Don’t say such things,” The ghost answered sternly, “Though he is swallowed by grief, he still cares deeply for you.”

You didn’t believe him, but you let him have the last word, returning to your work.

When not gardening or taking care of the estate or watching out for Johnny, you start an even more private project- researching into who the previous gardener was. The servants’ hush when you had asked about a gardener piqued your curiosity- it felt like the first real clue to solving the estate’s mystery. You tried finding records of why he isn’t in the estate any longer, or even simply records of his employment, but there seemed to be no trace, not even a name. Either the records had been destroyed or Johnny kept them locked away- and the last thing you wanted was to send Johnny into a rage again for prying. (You may have forgiven him, but the mind does not forget so easily- just the mere thought of overstepping made you incredibly uncomfortable- and he never acted that way with anyone else, so, really, it’s you who was the problem. Perhaps his dislike of you is more than that, perhaps it is a hatred?)

You reach a disheartening stopping point in your research when you can find no more. That is, until Duke Price and Lord Garrick give your husband a visit. They are some of the old military friends Johnny’d spoken of previously. Entertaining your guests in the parlour, the topic of your work in the garden is brought up. A somber hush falls over the men. A true tragedy the gardener met his demise, they say, he was a good man. One of the best. They pour out a drink for their fallen friend. Johnny asks that you give them a moment of privacy, so you oblige. (Heavy-hearted though you may be).

You learn his name that day. Simon Riley.

Later, you are hesitant to bring it up in the garden, but… you are burning up with questions, and perhaps, perhaps this once, the ghost might answer.

“Do you know…” you begin hesitantly, but stop uncertainly. He hums for you to continue, so you gather together whatever scraps of bravery you have, “Did you know the previous gardener of this place? A Mr. Simon Riley?”

The air grows still, a tense silence falling over the area. Then,

“Of course I knew him.” The ghost says, his voice soft and sorrowful. An invisible hand tucks a hair behind your ear, “For he and I are one and the same.”

You take in a sharp inhale. Your hands twist the fabric of your skirts.

“May I call you by your name, then?” You ask quietly.

His answer is whisper-soft, a shuddering concession, “Yes.”

“Simon. Simon Riley…” You say it slowly, enjoying the way his name rolls off your tongue. And then his form fades into view like never before. Still slightly transparent, but now he is here, directly in front of you, and so close, so close you could reach out and cradle his face, and his eyes, oh his eyes, they are so full of longing and woe. “You are… beautiful…” You breathe.

He flinches, taken aback, eyes wide.

“You can… see me?” He asks, astonished. You can only nod in response.

He refuses to answer any more of your questions that day, and instead waits to see how long this bout of visibility lasts for. From that day forward, you can see him at all times, though some days greater than others. Some days he is barely an outline against the garden walls, and other days you can see him as clearly as if he were alive and real. Those days it is only your hand phasing straight through his body when you try to set a palm on his shoulder that breaks the illusion.

Since he will not answer your questions, you turn to other means, now armed with a name. You look through public records, and find a cemetery with his name, and then an obituary that stated he had died in a fire. You shudder at the thought of it, pained on his behalf. What a horrid way to go. But there are no further details on what caused the fire nor where it had happened. Was it on the battlefield? Was it in the grounds of the estate?You find no further details.

You return to gardening and your countess duties.

There finally comes the day that Johnny approaches the garden door and instead of leaving, creaks the door open. Your conversation with Simon had fallen silent the moment you heard Johnny’s steps once more, but when the door had opened, you and Simon exchanged a surprised, excited glance.

Johnny stood within the doorway, looking around with equal parts amazement and heartache, his eyes wide, his brow furrowed. It made you suddenly realize just how much progress you’d made after all this time. The garden looked nothing like when you’d first seen it on that dark night. The flower beds were thriving, the bushes cut back to a respectable size, the vines no longer encroaching plants and pathways but rather providing a delightful contrast to the other foliage. Deeper in the garden there were still pathways overgrown, but for now you had completed a commendable amount of work.

A couple steps in, and Johnny was turning his head this way and that to take it all in.

“Good afternoon, my lord.” You greeted him.

“Good afternoon, my lady.” He parroted back. “You… really have been busy in here.”

“Yes, I’ve grown quite fond of the garden. I hope I have done it justice, though I have not seen it in its golden days.”

“You’ve done… remarkably well in restoring it.” Johnny murmurs. “It looks almost… like…” He trails off.

“Like…?” You echo. He shakes his head, as though breaking from a reverie.

“It looks almost identical.” He says, but you feel like that is not quite what he meant to say initially. While his attention is elsewhere, you exchange a look with Simon. Simon seems quite familiar with Johnny, and perhaps what Johny might have meant, shaking his head wryly.

That leads you to wonder why Johnny can’t seem to see Simon. If he saw the ghostly figure besides you, surely he would have said something? If it was Simon that had made him flee the garden that first evening here, would it not stand to reason that Johnny knows something about Simon’s demise, and is perhaps more qualified than you to be able to see his ghostly form?

But Johnny says nothing, and his eyes never stop on Simon as he glances around.

“It’s… good to see the place be put in order.” He says primly, then moves to leave, “I will see you at dinner, my lady.”

You say your goodbyes and watch as he makes a swift exit. You and Simon listen as his footsteps become more and more distant. Then you crumple in on yourself.

“Ohhh, he hates it, he hates what I’ve done to it.” You bemoan miserably. “I’ve besmirched the memory of his lover and now he despises me all the more.”

“What! Are you daft?” Simon exclaims, “That was him saying thank you, stilted though it may be.”

“Don’t lie to me, Simon, you saw him! You heard his tone! I am an imposter in this garden, in this household, and he will never accept my being here.”

Simon grips your shoulders, meeting your gaze seriously, and it is the first time you have ever seen him look so angry.

“Don’t you dare speak that way. You, you shining, quaking thing, you belong here most of all. He cares for you, I know it.”

“No you don’t, no you don’t. You don’t see us in the house, Simon, you don’t see our dinners- he barely speaks to me aside from polite conversation and those few times he’s had a drink and forgets that it is me he is speaking to. There are times he looks at me and I can tell, it isn’t me he is seeing, not really.”

No matter how much Simon swears up and down that you’re wrong, nothing he says can change your mind. You depart the garden that day with a heavy heart, feeling as though you had said far too much to Simon, added onto his already heavy burden with your own trifling sorrows.

Weeks go by and nothing really changes. The sun sets and rises, the skies continue to be plagued by grey clouds, the heather blooms purple over the moorland. You busy yourself with the garden and making preparations for your head maid to visit some family, which meant reworking certain schedules, and Johnny busies himself with the business and the farmers in the area.

Then one day you happen upon a tattered letter. It slips out of an old book you had reached for in the library. The book had looked worn and well-loved, so you had reached for it out of curiosity, when out dropped a lone letter.

You read over it once, twice, thrice… then sank into the window seat with a hand over your mouth and wept, eyes tracing the words over and over again.

It was a letter addressed to Simon, from Johnny. There was evidence of old tears on the paper. The shaky strokes of the pen were visible in every word- every word a confession of love and regrets. Every other word was an apology. Sorry for leaving Simon in that town alone, sorry for not getting to the burning building fast enough, sorry for not confessing his love properly while he was alive. An account of all the sweet moments the two had that he would miss forevermore, and a single final ‘I love you’ finishing off the letter.

The dots all connected in your mind then. The love they shared, the garden that was built, the yearning glances and longing sighs- the burning house, the deep regrets, the haunting, the listlessness. It was a vivid picture painted in your mind, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than for there to be some happy ending for them. Your heart ached for their love story cut short, burned with your love for them.

You tried to compose yourself and set the letter back into the book, but then your eye caught on the inscription on the cover page of the book.

‘To my dear Johnny, I may not be the best with words, but I would borrow from all the poets in the world if only to see your smile.’

You stifle the sudden sob that bubbles up your throat, and flip through a couple pages of the book- all of it lovingly annotated, certain phrases underlined, notes in the margins of some pages. You gently, ever so carefully, fold the book closed and set it back in its place on the shelf.

That night all you can do is weep for the two.

But surely there must be something you can do? Simon may be a ghost but he is still here- that has to count for something, right? But then might he disappear if his regrets are laid to rest? You’ve read somewhere that ghosts are only souls that have unfinished business in the world of the living… You do not know enough about the supernatural to say anything for certain.

So you track down the old woman who’d first said there’s a ghost in the estate. She said she is a witch, did she not? Surely she might have some solution, something that could help? When you reach her little cottage and tell her all that has happened, all you have learned, you are not quite as composed as you’d thought you would be, instead kneeling at her side and telling your tale like a beseeching child, with tears sliding down your cheeks. The old lady strokes your hair comfortingly.

“Oh, my child… there is little that can be done when one is dead.” She says regretfully, “There is a balance in life, you see? One cannot bring back a life without giving something back in return of equal measure.”

You glance up sharply, eyes wild.

“A life for a life, then? It is possible?” You ask. The old woman is taken aback.

“Well, yes, but…”

“I could turn in my life for Simon’s? They could be happy together again?”

“It is… possible. But, child, what of your happiness?” She asks earnestly. You pause, contemplate. Then shake your head, determined.

“I would be overjoyed to see them reunite. That is my happiness.”

And so the plan is hatched. The witch needs some items of import to make the spell work, which you are able to obtain with some sneaking around. The difficult part is the spell must be done where the ghost’s presence is tethered. You aren’t certain where that may be until she starts asking where you tend to see Simon most often and where is his form most sturdy and visible. Then it becomes obvious to you it must be in the garden, so the issue lies in sneaking her out to garden with everyone none-the-wiser.

In the few days leading up to the spell, you become more withdrawn. Simon catches on quickly to the change, but chooses to let you keep your secrets. To your surprise, Johnny also seems to notice a difference in you, and unlike Simon, he is persistent in trying to figure out what might be the matter. With each passing day it becomes more and more difficult to brush him off.

But soon the night of the ritual is upon you. You sneak out of the house in your silky gown with naught but a single candle, and meet the old woman near the entrance to the garden.

Simon is instantly upon you, questioning and inquisitive as the witch sets everything up.

“What… what is this?” His face is grim.

“I’m bringing you back, Simon.” You answer lightly. His eyes widen at the realization as the witch starts chanting, cutting your palm open.

“No. No, stop this immediately!” He reaches for you, to pull you away, or push you back, but his hands phase right through you. It is one of the nights his form is weakest, and you’d purposely chosen today for that reason. “Don’t you dare. I need you here- we need you!”

You only send him a soft, doleful smile, taking a vial from the witch’s basket.

Panic sets on his face as he realizes he cannot stop you. His ghostly form disappears entirely, and part of you is glad you will not have to see the pain in his eyes when you go.

Simon had gone to get the aid of the only one who’d be able to stop you. He used all his strength to appear before Johnny, who’d been at his desk, writing ‘neath the candlelight. Johnny startles and watches, mouth agape, as Simon shouts at him to save you, that you’re in the garden, about to die.

That gets Johnny up and sprinting down the stairs and out to the garden, his shirt billowing in the window, his hair askew. Simon is right behind him, though his form fades in and out of existence. They burst into the garden, footsteps skidding on the dirt.

They are too late.

Johnny grips Simon’s arm in his shock, chest heaving, and Simon’s frame is sturdy, solid, alive as he supports him. Your body is still and motionless on the ground, your face pale, lips parted, eyes open but unseeing. The moon illuminates the scene, an unwilling witness to the tragedy that has befallen.

Simon sinks to his knees while Johnny cradles your limp body. There is nothing they can do but weep.

#ta-daaaa *jazz hands*#I just really needed to get it out of my system #but then once it was out and I read over it again I thought 'huh! that's not half bad!' and have now decided to share it #I guess you can either assume the two live forever with the guilt of her death but live a long happy life together #or the two had both fallen in love with her too and now are stuck forever mourning the death of another loved one #(or maybe they get into some sort of quest for a magic spell that can bring her to life and then they all live happily ever after? idk)#snurt writes #cod #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #ghost x reader #soap x reader

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msfandomsblog · 1 day ago

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Alastor x Ballerina fem!Reader

yes this ones back, I reread part two and was surprised that I was the one that wrote that so she's getting an upload (also might post more cus I'm getting inspo)

Warnings; Use of y/n, swearing, Alastor is his own warning, bullying?.

After about a month you'd gotten quite used to the hotel and it's people. Angel had properly introduced you to all the residences.

Husk had started to dislike you less as you slowly let your overlord performance down. He found he liked you better then any overlord he'd ever met, even when you made a sadistic joke.

Nifty enjoyed how clean and graceful you were, and that you'd always complimented her killing skills which made the small demon beam.

Vaggie and you had a shared dislike for Alastor. You'd made a small bond over said thing.

Speaking of Alastor, he apparently liked testing just how aware of your surroundings you were. At first it was him trying to sneak up on you, then it was him 'accidentally' chucking things at you when you were distracted. You would of course catch said thing with your hand or a hover spell.

He would also poke fun at your newly found overlord status. Things that hinted at you being a weaker overlord.

"Do tell me dear! what is your main medium of power?"

"Well, I don't exactly have a medi-"

"I don't think you have any territory either do you?"

"Actu-"

"Thank goodness you're here now! Who knows what could have happened if you'd been left on the streets!"

During this conversation Husk had to pull you away so you didn't murder him on the spot.

Carmilla was holding an overlord meeting today, and of course you and Alastor had to be attending.

(Yes ik the overlord meeting was supposed to be for 'controlling' or most powerful overlords but lets forget about that)

The walk there had been utterly hilarious, the egg boys constantly bugging Alastor, You could see the irritation on his face as the eggs kept pestering him.

"Hark, Y/n and Alastor. How fare thee this day?" Zestial smiled at his fellow overlords.

(I don't know the full Zestial and Al dialogue so imma just skip it a bit.)

"There hath been rumor of thy involvement with the princess and her recent flight of fancy."

"Didn't think you were one to believe in rumors Zestial." You smirked, eyes narrowed.

"Please Do tell, How does thou fall in such folly?"

You went to speak but was cut off by Alastor.

"That is for us to know, but please do guess! I'd love to know the theories."

You kept rolled your eyes but copied his movements to continue walking.

"It would be a grand folly by far to assume the workings of your mind, Alastor." He paused "Or even Dear Y/n."

Your grin widened, "You flatter me Zestial, though don't know if I love being held in the same account as The Radio Demon." You smirked

Alastor turned his head towards you, his composer being chipped at. "Pardon?"

Zestial chuckled, "Thou is not wrong Alastor, Thou Hath not but an enigma since they manifested in this realm."

Alastor's smile perked up again, "Coming from someone as ancient as you, I'll take it as a compliment."

You three walked into the elevators that lead up to the meeting room.

(I don't wanna write a whole play by play of the episode so imma write my own thing)

Rosie greeted you kindly, but was quickly deterred away by Alastor. "Oh my Satan! Alastor! How've ya been? Oh I've missed you, old friend." She smiled, showing her sharp teeth.

"I've been well Rosie." He smiled back, liking the attention.

Rosie smiled brightly before turning to you. "And of course you've met! Y/n, you always reminded me of Al." She draped an arm over your shoulders and squeezed lovingly.

The smile that you'd been wearing now tightened. "Please Rosie! Don't insult me!" You laughed, patting her arm.

Alastor glared at you, his own smile turning snarl-like. You quite liked having him under your foot, you should come with him to Rosie's sometime. Have some real fun.

As you walked in your smile turned to a neutral or relaxed constant. As Alastor recounted his return to his fellow overlords, which Carmilla skated right over made you wheeze in laughter to yourself.

(Respect less and that whole thing, I don't really wanna write that but if anyone would like me to write Y/n and Alastors internal thoughts during this scene comment it!)

"Argh, Velvette has no self control. None of the Vees do." You fixed your outfit as you walked back towards the elevator.

You had really been talking to Rosie, but Alastor had taken the liberty to answered you.

"I agree, these," he paused thinking, "overly extravagant Overlords wish to gain more control and respect then is due." His smile was strained as he thought of the flat-faced bastard, the childish Doll demon, and that disgusting Moth.

You raised a brow at him. He'd never agreed with you on anything, why now?

You decided not to question it too much as you answered.

"That asshole, Vox, He's the only reason I'm not as powerful as I should be." Your wings fluttered angrily on your back.

Alastors smile closed to a small grin. "Do tell! What exactly did that Bastard do?"

As you began retelling how Vox had offered you a job as Val choreographer, then as a dancer social media star, all of which you'd cast aside,

Rosie was watching as her two very good friends were bonding over their shared hatred for the excitable Vees.

She knew that maybe, just maybe, her oldest friend would finally find someone.

Yes, yess, shame on me for taking forever to update but here part 3. yes this will be a slow burn, no you and Al aren't friends now just- acquaintances. (also sorry its short)

Hope you enjoy!!!!!

Taglist;

@milkissesx @aizawa-emma @deadgirldreaming

#hazbin hotel #fanfic #hazbin x reader #hazbin #hazbin x y/n #hazbin x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor the radio demon #hazbin au #romance #ballerina #ballet dancer #ballet

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dontwaitforupdates · 10 months ago

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Mac and Chester in Art Fight? More likely than you think

If you follow me on Art Fight I will follow you back and attack you Here are Mac and Chester's pages

#dwfu #dwfu art #mac and chester #ocs #artfight #I somehow have more info about them on their art fight pages than here #the real problem is that I don't post enough #though this whole account is a warning about that

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rafesangelita · 1 month ago

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♡ standing in front of rafe’s door after everything that transpired was the last thing you thought you’d do.. yet here you were. luckily for you, rafe has no intentions of ever letting you leave him again.

warnings: enemies to lovers, unprotected sex, rough sex, marathon sex (these two have a lot to catch up on), oral (m. and f. receiving), fingering, choking, face fucking, cum eating, cum play (they are sooo gross), multiple orgasms, rough handling, hair pulling, biting, slapping, overstimulation, crying, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation kink (?), praise, fluff, soft aftercare

a/n: aaaand this is the end ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ this series was something i thought of on a whim, and i couldn’t be any more happier with the way everything came out. to everyone who showed sm love and gave me your thoughts and feedback, thank you so much!! reading your comments and your theories made me smile <3 wrote this while listening to ‘hotel’ by montell fish, i highly recommend listening to it, it’s what inspired this chapter!!

links: previous | mini series masterlist

wc: 3.8k

it’s been four days since rafe’s been blowing up your phone with every second he could spare, all of his calls and messages being either dismissed or ignored. you had fabricated a lie the next morning and told chanel that you and rafe just weren’t compatible with each other, and even though she could see the solemn look on your face, she knew not to dig any further. “you call me if you need anything, okay?” she hugged you tightly before leaving, using her own key to lock the door to your house as you stayed laying in bed.

as much as you wanted to give in to rafe, you just couldn’t find it in you to overlook the fact that he held back from telling you what he knew. sure, now that you look back on it, it was obvious, but to continue feeding into your fantasies, receiving your pictures, and talking to you on the phone as if he didn’t know who you were made you feel like you had been played in a way. since that night, you went to your tumblr and deleted everything, along with deactivating your account and uninstalling the app as a whole.

once rafe saw that your blog was gone, he went ahead and decided to delete his as well. it was pointless for him to be active if you were no longer on there anymore. he had been checking his phone religiously, hoping for any kind of reply, but each time his phone screen illuminated with a notification that wasn’t from you it was just a blow to his chest. he hated not hearing from you, especially because he had grown so used to listening to your voice everyday. now that was all gone. he no longer had that balance that he needed to keep him from going insane.

rafe didn’t view you any differently once he found out his dream girl behind the screen was you. if anything, it just made him want you even more. to know that the same girl that never put up with anyone’s shit was the same girl that wanted to be told what to do was nothing short of gratifying. he loved being the man that did that for you. both of you needed each other, and that was something you were slowly starting to realize as the days went on. finally folding, you had turned your read receipts off so rafe wouldn’t know that you opened up the plethora of paragraphs he had been sending you.

you scrolled down from the very top, only reading the messages that stuck out to you the most.

[Sunday - 10:11 AM] rafe: i just checked into my room, please text me back.

[Sunday - 11:00 AM] rafe: i don’t blame you for not wanting to talk to me but we’re gonna have to settle this now or when i get home. either way, you’re still mine. whether you like it or not.

[Sunday - 11:09 AM] rafe: has it ever occurred to you that you know things about me that nobody else knows either? i knew who you were and i still didn’t hold back from being vulnerable with you. i care about you y/n, i think about you all the fucking time. after opening up to me last night, i really just want to make sure that you never feel alone again. let me be there. please.

[Sunday - 10:17 PM] rafe: this is the first night in months that i’m going to bed without hearing your voice. please consider talking to me again.

[Monday - 8:20 PM] rafe: not that it matters anymore but for the entire time that we were texting each other, i never saw anyone else. i wasn’t interested in anybody and then once i found out that you were closer than i thought, you’re the only thing that i could think about. phone sex aside, i truly believe that we see each other and understand one another— at least for me, you do. this isn’t a sunken ship, and i won’t let you turn it into one.

[Monday - 8:27 PM] rafe: i’ll do whatever it takes to be back in your good graces, but leaving you alone isn’t an option. i don’t think it ever was.

[Tuesday - 3:55 PM] rafe: well i finished up all the deals i needed to make, but i want to give you the time that you need, so i’ll be staying here for the rest of the week. i’ve put your name on the visitor’s list for my room number, i know it’s far fetched to think you’ll show up, but i’ll be here.

and then the most recent ones from this afternoon..

[Today - 1:09 PM] rafe: #501

[Today - 1:10 PM] rafe: that’s my room number.

you bit your lip. you couldn’t believe you were really considering going over there. you spent the rest of the afternoon pacing the halls, trying to come up with excuses as to why you shouldn’t pack a bag and give in to the man that undeniably has you in a chokehold. by the sounds of his texts, it’s not like you can just get out of not communicating with him, he has made that abundantly clear. by the time it was seven o’clock you were cursing under your breath as your car parked onto the ferry headed towards the mainland. “you better not embarrass me, asshole..” you whispered, swallowing your pride as the minutes counted down to your destination.

you were hesitant when it came time to go into the lobby, your chest rising and falling as you got off the car on shaky legs. you knew that coming over here meant more than just ‘talking it out’, this was you allowing rafe to prove himself worthy enough for something to grow out of this; something serious. “good evening! are you a guest or a visitor?” the receptionist smiled at you brightly as you answered. “visitor. for rafe cameron.” she clicked away on her computer for a few moments before humming pleasantly. “y/n?” she confirmed. with a curt nod, she motioned towards the elevators, “enjoy your night.”

adjusting the pink bag on your shoulder, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding once the elevator dinged on rafe’s floor. no matter how much you were trying to downplay the situation, you couldn’t help the violent thumping of your heart with every step you took towards the end of the long hallway. standing in front of his door made everything feel like it was closing in on you, like suddenly you couldn’t get out of this and you hated the feeling of losing control. before you could successfully talk yourself out of facing him and running away, you knocked and waited with a bated breath for rafe to answer.

the man on the other side of the door was sitting at the edge of his bed in deep thought when he heard the small sound against the thick hardwood. eyebrows twisting in confusion, rafe got up and looked through the peep hole. he felt relief wash over him as soon as he saw you standing there with your arms crossed over your chest without a word, he opened the door, your eyes finding his. his gaze said just as much as your own, both of you sharing a mutual understanding without having to say anything.

pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, rafe nodded understandingly before dragging you inside, your heart fluttering in your chest at his display of strength. “rafe—” you didn’t even get a chance to say anything before he grabbed your bag and tossed it to the side, his hands cupping your face before he backed you into the wall. “just shut up.” he whispered, both of you moaning once you felt each other’s lips finally press into your own. he tasted like mint with a hint of alcohol and you knew right then and there that you’d never be able to get enough of it.

snaking your hands underneath his shirt, you raked your nails down his toned stomach before tugging at the waistline of his jeans, a small gasp leaving your lips once he inserted a thigh between your legs and pressed into where you needed him most. “fuck,” you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck, “please, i need you.” hearing you say that you needed him made rafe’s head spin in the best possible way. “yeah? i’m not really convinced..” he leaned in, licking a stripe across your bottom lip. rolling your eyes, you dug your nails into his neck until he groaned, pushing you into the wall with a thud.

narrowing your gaze at him, rafe smiled once he saw what looked like a hint of a challenge dancing in your orbs. picking you up off of your feet, you yelped when rafe slammed you onto his bed, wasting no time in slotting himself between your thighs. “it’s gonna take a lot more than some pathetic begging to get me inside you.” he said through gritted teeth. you refrained from saying something smart, your stare faltering as you swallowed thickly. he was going to make this difficult for you. stroking the back of his neck, you pulled him down so your lips were next to his ear.

he shuddered at the feeling of your breath fanning against his skin, a sigh falling from his lips as you trailed your foot along the side of his hip up to his torso. “please, rafe? i might cry if i have to my own fingers again..it’s been too long,” you whispered, “what will it take for you to fill me up with your cock instead?” rafe cursed under his breath as soon as he heard your lewd words, his hands working to get you out of your clothes so he could give both of you some kind of relief. you shivered once you were left in your bra and panties, your eyes beaming up at the man in front of you as you slowly removed the lacey material.

maybe it was because rafe was still fully dressed, but you couldn’t help but feel overexposed as he ogled your chest, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing up and down as he took your tits in the palms of his hands. “holy fuck,” he laid you back, letting his touch roam your body as you squirmed with anticipation, “the camera doesn’t do you justice, baby, you’re fucking gorgeous.” your stomach erupted in a fit of butterflies at the nickname. “and these..” he tugged at your underwears, his jaw clenching once he caught a glimpse of your glossy folds.

in no time, rafe had your thighs shaking around his head, your back arching off of the plush mattress as you clawed at his hands in a desperate attempt to ground yourself from the pure, white hot pleasure coursing through your tummy. “rafe!” you squealed, your entire body buzzing with need as you felt his fingers prod at your entrance. “you taste so good, ‘pretty, m’gonna have to keep you on your back for me all fucking day from now on.” he cursed, flicking his tongue against your overstimulated clit. you felt like a puddle of nothing once he had his digits curled inside of you, his fingertips continuously hitting that sweet spot that made you jolt with each stroke.

“t-too much!” you shook your head, your hips drawing away from his mouth. he chuckled, his strong grip on the curves of your waist making you hiss in pain. “this can’t be too much for you already, i’m just getting started..” you whined helplessly, feeling the band in your stomach snap for the second time already, the motions of his digits eliciting wet squelches from your cunt as you writhed uncontrollably beneath him.

with your eyes rolled to the back of your skull, rafe removed the hand he had inbetween your thighs and slipped his fingers inside your mouth, his tongue still working skillfully on your sensitive bud as he forced you to taste yourself. you moaned, sucking on his digits without a second thought. “you’re so fucking hot, i love it.” he grumbled, grinding his clothed erection into the sheets, desperate for any kind of friction he could get as he leaked precum from merely giving you pleasure.

he brought you down from your high until your breathing slowed and you were dragging him up to kiss you once again. rafe’s lips molded to yours so perfectly, you cupped his chin and pecked the tip of his nose before slipping out from under his body. rafe didn’t ask any questions as you grabbed his hand and guided him back up to his feet. how you managed to stand up after being overstimulated into oblivion? you don’t know, but you were determined to get rafe out of his clothes one way or another.

rafe watched as you lifted his shirt above his head, the thin material of his t-shirt getting lost on the floor somewhere as you stared at his glorious build. “as much i hated you, i always thought you were stupidly hot.” rafe snorted at your words, his eyes following the way your fingertips trailed down his pecs to his v-line. “hated?” he repeated, noting the past-tense of your statement. meeting his eyes, you blinked softly before pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. “yeah, hated.”

within seconds, you had dropped to your knees, biting your lip at the sight of rafe bulging out of the denim material of his jeans. looking up at him with sultry eyes, you palmed him through his pants, his nostrils flaring slightly as you took your time getting him out of his boxers. oh and once you did, you were gobsmacked. you’ve spent so much time daydreaming about this cock, just wishing it was the one thing putting you to sleep instead of your fingers, and now that it was standing in front of you, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together at the sight.

you smiled sweetly before placing your hands on the back of his knees, the man above you already fisting your hair into a makeshift ponytail as you licked a long stripe up the underside of his cock, his hips bucking at the pleasure shooting into his core. “o-oh, fuck..” he swallowed thickly, watching as your sparkly lips enveloped the head of his cock, your tongue swirling around his aching tip with ease. you moaned around his length, taking him inch by inch until your nose nudged his pubic bone.

blinking up at him through your eyelashes, you slowly pulled off of him, holding him at the base as he watched you trace your lips with a mix of spit and precum. “you’re gonna get it.” was the last thing rafe said before he pulled your head back down on his cock, a muffled whine sounding from your mouth before you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. rafe’s head rolled to the side, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. your grip tightened around his legs, your eyebrows pinching together as rafe groaned, his muscles constricting underneath his skin.

“i imagined this for so long..” he said through gritted teeth, “..since way before we even started texting.” you moaned at the revelation, grateful that he took the hint and let you slide off of him for a moment so you could breathe. gasping once you were able to get a full breath, rafe cursed when his eyes landed on the thick string of saliva still connecting your lips to his cock. “why didn’t you do something about it, then?” rafe shook his head, letting go of your hair before landing a playful smack across your cheek. “you know what? that’s a really good question, ‘think you would’ve been okay with me stuffing your mouth back then?”

you giggled, licking your lips before getting up and pushing him down on the bed. rafe brought you down with him, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as you kissed him sloppily. feeling him like this, skin to skin, made a weight that you didn’t even know was there lift from your heart, your soft hands stroking his chest as he held you in his big arms. snaking down his torso, you pressed a trail of kisses down his stomach until you reached his length, wrapping a hand around his base.

“tell me, rafe,” you scooted down so you were straddling his thighs, “would you have even had the balls to take me the way you wanted?” rafe’s chest rose and fell as you stroked him languidly, his eyes struggling to stay open as you watched him with that dark gaze of yours. “nah, i didn’t think you’d be able to take it.” you smiled, taking your bottom lip between your teeth before you picked up your pace, the action making rafe’s hips buck. “ah, fuck!” he heaved, his jaw falling slack as he felt himself teetering the edge of euphoria.

“already gonna cum?” you teased, “so fucking pathetic.” rafe blinked, his jaw tightening at your words. he couldn’t let you win this easily. despite it feeling impossible, he mustered up the strength to stop your ministrations, grabbing your shoulders and pinning you down beneath him. “you might be royalty out there, but in here? with me? you don’t get to have your fucking way. you’re nothing.” you gasped, your heart beating in your ears as he threw your legs over his shoulders.

suddenly you didn’t have the same confidence from earlier now that rafe had you right where he wanted you, his cock sitting snuggly between your folds. your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him teasing your clit, a shaky breath leaving your lips as he entered you slowly. rafe buried his face in your neck, his teeth nipping the sensitive flesh there. your eyes watered at the stretch, a small cry emitting from your throat. rafe looked down at you and made sure you were okay before thrusting into you, both of you moaning in unison.

“fuck, you feel so good,” he praised you, “better than what i could’ve ever imagined.” he pressed a kiss to your calf, pressing a large palm over your lower stomach. you squeaked at the pressure, your toes curling as he fucked into you with vigor. “i wonder what people would think of you if they knew you were a cock hungry slut,” he started thumbing your clit, your hands shooting up to dig crescents into his biceps, “i should mark you up, ‘show everyone who the fuck you belong to when they see us out.”

you don’t know why, but the idea of walking around with rafe, everyone’s eyes falling on you two in every room you enter, turned you on beyond belief, especially at the prospect of being littered with bruises and hickeys from none other than the man on top of you. “i want that,” you whimpered, “want’ everyone to know you’re mine too.” rafe groaned. all he’s wanted to hear since you two started this whole thing. that he was yours.. that you wanted him the way he wanted you.

rafe wished so badly that he didn’t refrain from letting himself cum over the course of these last few months, because then maybe he wouldn’t be close to blowing his load this soon. “still think i’m pathetic if i cum right now?” rafe trailed his lips across your collarbone, his forehead nudging your chin as you nodded breathlessly. “oh, totally.” you laughed, the smile from your face being wiped off as soon as rafe picked up his speed on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

“i guess that’s gonna make two of us then..” you had heavy tears rolling down your cheeks when your high washed over you in waves of pure ecstasy, your legs trembling as you thrashed against him. you lost all ability to speak or think, rafe’s hips coming to a stop as he pulled out, still stroking his length as he emptied himself over your drenched folds. rafe shuddered, watching the way his cum painted your pretty cunt. you were left clenching around nothing, a pout forming on your lips.

“w-why didn’t you just cum inside me?” you stuttered, rafe’s eyes widening at your display of offense. “well i wasn’t sure if you’d be okay with that—” you cut him off, clamping a hand over his mouth before reaching down and guided his tip over the mess he made. “put it in me.” your had seen plenty of gazes turn dark before, but rafe’s was just incomparable. he was distraught, the look on your face sending him into overdrive. he did as you said, his mind churning with a thousand thoughts at once.

you took every drop like a champ, his eyes hanging low as he collapsed next to you, pulling you into his side. cradling his head to your chest, you reveled in the feeling of his arms being wrapped around you, both of you panting softly in an attempt to catch your breaths. staying in this position for what seemed like forever, you blinked once rafe’s voice broke you out of your post-sex bliss. “what made you change your mind?” he asked, running his fingertips up and down the column of your spine.

“my mind was already made up..” you whispered, “i just needed to put my ego away and finally choose something for myself.”

at your words, rafe pulled you into a heated kiss, which only then lead to round two and three and so on until you were barely able to hold yourself up in the shower. you and rafe slept in the next morning, both of you spending the rest of the week seemingly catching up with all of the pent up sexual frustration you two shared until it was time to go back home and do it all overs again. your phone had been blowing up with unanswered calls and texts from chanel, your best friend worried sick about you and your sudden disappearance. “where the fuck have you been?! i was starting to think i should file a missing persons report!” she shouted.

“i promise i’m going to explain everything. meet me at our brunch spot in ten minutes.. and feel free to bring topper..”

“how did this happen?!” chanel squealed excitedly, looking between you and rafe as he draped an arm across your shoulders, your lips finding his. oh, god, where could you even start? “it’s a really interesting story, but trust me when i say you’ll thank me for sparing the details.” you laughed. topper was also mildly confused at his best friend’s sudden attitude change towards you. “blink twice if you need help, bro.” he chuckled nervously, both you and chanel shooting him a glare. “nah, no cries for help over here. i’m right where i wanna be..”

taglist: @meallan01 @sf1738 @emeloyy @hmmshhhh @chelzaa @starkeycore @liyah4evaaaa @hnybitches @urbimom @kittenjujusblog @femaholicc @lil-sparklqueen @yktayy9669 @matthewswifeyy @icaqttt @jjasmiineee @lilithblackkk @rafecameronswhoore @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @ditzyzombiesblog @i-love-gvf @blondrafe @wolf-2005 @brianquinnlvr @lightbluebaby @jkrafe @lovemaybankk @sweetstrawberrianne @drewstarkeysbabe @issues4him @dahliaparton @slut-4-gojo @luvagirlsworld @nemesyaaa @jwdiaries @midsoulz @drewstarkeyzwhore @urmotherlvr @chillgal135 @wtfisastiles @dollyfiles @annaconscience @rafesluvr @locallyhateddoll @acidfeens @cherubfille @whathechickenstrip @my-name-is-baby @wtfdudesblog @atjlovverr

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aewon · 1 month ago

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cute, no?

sunghoon x fem reader genre: smut MDNI!! wc: 4157 warnings: kissing, rough sex, mouth fucking, fingering, cunnilingus, pussy slapping, mean sunghoon, inexperienced (but not virgin) reader, mention of chaewon, yunjin, hanni and karina. both sunghoon and reader are kinda weird. name calling (reader calls sunghoon a whore), multiple orgasms, nude sending. if there’s anything i missed lmk.

note: this is a repost from my other account that is now deleted @/wonkizz, also this isn’t proofread so ignore any fuck ups lol

You knew your roommate was somewhat of a whore. It never bothered you, if anything, you were jealous.

He just….snapped his fingers and girls fell at his feet.

You wished you could bag guys that easily.

Albeit you and Sunghoon rarely acknowledged each other. How did you become roommates in the first place, you may be wondering? It’s very simple. You were living with your sister, she moved out to live with her boyfriend, you needed a new roommate, Sunghoon answered your facebook ad. Simple as that.

The only rules you had were keeping the space clean and not being too loud at night.

Sunghoon definitely kept up with the first one, never having a hair out of place.

The second, well… not so much. But, it didn’t bother you. You had really good noise canceling headphones for a reason.

Though at night, you could still hear the sounds of the multitude of girls he would bring home day in and day out.

Their loud moans, whimpers, mewls, borderline screams!

You don’t know if the sex is really good, or if they’re just really sensitive.

It must be Sunghoon though, right?

But is he really that good?

Sometimes you find yourself wishing you were in those girls' places…but you know he’d never go for someone like you.

Something you haven’t mentioned, Sunghoon is like, drop dead gorgeous. You’re surprised he hasn’t been casted as a model or an idol or something.

But he’s just a struggling student like you. Clearly not struggling in the sex department though.

You’re not a virgin, but you’ve only had sex three times in your 22 years of life.

All three times were not that satisfying and personally you don’t blame yourself.

You just haven’t found that person who can really do it for you, and your own hand and toy have started to become…tired.

It’s been quite some time since you’ve felt the touch of another person. You’ve started craving, like you’re touch-starved.

Back to the topic of Sunghoon, he’s mesmerizing and you are a stereotypical nerd.

You’re not ugly, but your everyday appearance is not exactly eye-catching like what Sunghoon typically brings home.

You find yourself thinking about him more often than not. What he’s into sexually. How far he’s willing to go.

One thing about you, you’re very, very sensitive.

You’ve made yourself come 5 times in a span of 20 minutes.

Another thing about you, you’re somewhat of a freak…or maybe a major freak?

Safe to say you think about sex way more than you should, and you are not as vanilla as your friends think you are.

God, if you could just get one crack at Sunghoon, you’d be happy.

But alas, that’s just a dream.

It’s midnight on a Friday, you’ve just gotten out of the shower after doing your whole night routine.

You slip on some comfy pjs (aka an oversized tee and shorts) and make your way to the couch with a late night snack (black raspberry dark chocolate chunk ice cream) ready to indulge in the food network.

Sunghoon isn’t home, you figure he’s out at a party or with friends.

You’re digging into your pint of ice cream when the front door opens.

Sunghoon steps inside and you hear a giggle behind him.

Someone, a woman, steps in behind him.

Their lips are about to meet when her eyes find yours.

“Oh!” She exclaims, pulling away. “This must be your roommate! You didn’t tell me she was so…cute!”

This woman is gorgeous. Sleek, black hair, beautiful body that’s wrapped in a dress that fits her perfectly and her face is something out of a magazine.

She must be looking at you, with your oversized, not to mention stained, tee and shorts, glasses and ice cream in hand like you’re a joke. An utter, complete, joke.

Sunghoon barely spares a glance at you, clearing his throat and gesturing between you and this woman, “Karina, Y/N, Y/N, Karina,” he introduces you to her.

All you can do is wave before realizing the situation you’re in.

Sunghoon has once again brought a woman home and you’re clearly in the way.

You spring up from the couch, “I didn’t mean to be in the way, I'll just go to my room!”

Before either can say anything, you turn off the tv and nearly sprint to your room, ice cream still in hand.

You shut the door behind you, listening to footsteps.

You hear them making their way to Sunghoon’s room, right across from yours.

“She’s cute, no?” You hear Karina ask.

“I guess, not really my type though,” Sunghoon responds.

Ouch. You already knew it, but hearing it said aloud stings more than you thought it would.

The sex Sunghoon and Karina have that night is so loud, even your headphones can block it.

Her moans and squeals of his name infiltrate your mind into the morning, as you barely got any sleep.

You assume Karina is still in the apartment by time you get up for your early morning class.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing a cup of tea when Sunghoon comes in, rubbing his eyes.

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “I hope we didn’t disturb you too much.”

This is the first time he’s ever bothered to say this to you, not to mention the first time he’s ever acknowledged you in the morning.

You shake your head, giving him a faint smile as you push up your glasses, “Not at all.”

Once you leave the apartment, the walk to campus isn’t far.

Your best friend, Chaewon, is already waiting for you in front of your first class.

By the time you’re free, you meet up with your other friends, Yunjin and Hanni.

“What’s up with you?” Hanni asks, “You seem down.”

You sigh, “Sunghoon brought a really pretty girl home last night.”

They all raise their brows at you, “Okay,” Yunjin says, “that’s never bothered you before? Why now?”

“Because,” you start, “she called me cute.”

“She called you…cute?” Chaewon questions. “Why is that bad?”

“It’s not, but after I went back into my room, I heard them and she said to Sunghoon ‘She’s cute, no?’ and Sunghoon said ‘I guess, but she’s not really my type’. I already knew I wasn’t but hearing it said out loud stung a lot.”

Hanni rubs your shoulder.

“Well who gives a fuck what Sunghoon thinks!” Yunjin says. “You know you’re beautiful, and he’s just a man at the end of the day!”

“I know!” You groan, burying your head in your arms, “I know I shouldn’t care about his opinion or whether I’m his type or not but it’s like, when someone so attractive doesn’t see you that way it’s like, damn!”

You continue, “It’s not like I’m even into him romantically or anything like that. If anything, I’m just into him sexually, cause if you guys heard what I did you probably would be too!”

“So it’s not about romantic feelings, just sexual feelings?” Hanni asks.

You nod, “More like sexual frustration. I haven’t had sex in so long and it’s kinda killing me at this point.”

“So what if you make him acknowledge you sexually?” Chaewon implies.

“How do I do that? Like he said, I’m not even his type.”

“Well number one, acknowledge that this is just for sex. You’re not changing anything about yourself for him because at the end of the day he’s just a man and we don’t change ourselves for men, right?”

“Right.”

“Okay, then, do something to get his attention. Something sexual. Something that’ll catch his eye without changing how you are or who you are.”

You all pause for a moment, thinking of possible ideas.

Yunjin, after 5 minutes, lights up, “I’ve got it!”

After a long, somewhat agitating day of classes, you find yourself back at home.

You took another long, hot shower, did your night routine and dressed yourself in the cutest pj set you have.

What exactly was Yunjin’s plan? Take some pictures and “accidentally” send them to Sunghoon.

Now, have you ever taken nudes before? No. But you did a little research and you figure it can’t be that hard.

With your top pulled up and your tits fully exposed, you sit on your bed, front camera facing your tits.

The lighting is perfect, dim, but not too dark.

As you snap the pic, flash off, you look at it and…damn. If that’s not a good pic, you don’t know what is!

You spend the next 10 minutes debating if you should really do this. What if you just embarrass yourself completely and Sunghoon doesn’t buy into it at all?

Then you’ll never live it down.

But, you won’t know if you don’t try.

You pull up his contact, saved simply as ‘Sunghoon’

and attach the photo with the invisible ink effect and type ‘what do you think?’ before hitting send.

You nearly throw your phone across the room, but instead just slam it face down as your heart starts to beat more rapidly.

You know Sunghoon isn’t home right now, nor do you even know if he’ll be coming home tonight.

The only thing you can do is hope and pray for the best.

You exit out of the messages, not wanting him to know you’re waiting for a response and scroll through your phone trying not to panic.

After an agonizing few minutes, your phone dings.

You prepare yourself for embarrassment.

Sunghoon responded.

You’re expecting shock. An exclamation of sorts. Heck, even a question mark or two.

Instead, all you see is, ‘They’re nice.’

They’re nice.

Did he just fucking say, they’re nice?

Is that good?

You text the group chat a screenshot asking the same question.

The girls respond immediately, telling you to go forth with the plan, that that’s a good sign.

You take a deep breath. Don’t overdo it.

You: omg

You: sunghoon i’m so sorry

You: i didn’t mean to send that to you

He reads it and responds immediately.

Sunghoon: then who did you mean to send it to?

You: a friend

Sunghoon: what friend?

You: don’t worry about it! just please accept my apology :( i’m so sorry again

The text bubble indicates he’s typing, then it disappears and reappears.

Sunghoon: I’m coming home.

Sunghoon: Don’t move.

That last text makes your pussy throb in your pajama shorts.

You send the screenshot to the group chat which erupts immediately.

Chaewon: oh shitttt hehehe

Hanni: i fear you’re getting fucked into the mattress tonight

Yunjin: you mean you don’t fear lmao good luck girl

You occupy yourself for the time being, knowing Sunghoon will be home shortly.

As soon as you hear that front door open, you act nonchalantly, scrolling through your phone as if you’re not ecstatic.

Sunghoon doesn’t even bother knocking, opening your door and letting himself into your room.

His hair is slightly disheveled, like he’d been running his hand through it, and his face is stoic.

You look up at him innocently.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, knowing damn well you’re playing with fire.

Sunghoon scoffs, not saying a word as he walks to the side of your bed, grabbing your phone and throwing it to the side, not even watching where it lands.

You however do watch where it lands on the floor a few feet away and are about to protest when Sunghoon grabs you by the jaw.

“Do you like playing games you know you’re not gonna win?” He asks, voice low and condescending.

Fuck, if it doesn’t make your pussy more wet than it already is.

His grip on your jaw tightens, making you whimper. But you like the pain, and he knows that immediately.

“Take your clothes off,” he commands, finally letting go of your jaw.

You move to do as he says, albeit slowly.

Starting with your top, you lift it over your head, your tits falling out into view.

His eyes latch onto them immediately, and you take note of how he licks his lower lip.

“Shorts too,” he says.

You lay back against your pillows, lifting your hips to drag your shorts down your legs, sitting back up to then throw them in the same direction as your shirt.

Sunghoon smirks in amusement, “Of course you’re not wearing underwear. You’re a little slut aren’t you?”

Your own tongue pokes out to wet your lips and you watch as his eyes follow it.

Sunghoon begins to undress himself, starting with his shirt.

His pale skin is beautiful and the expanse of his toned torso almost makes you drool.

Your eyes find his arms, taking in his biceps and how much you want them around your neck.

“Hey, eyes here,” he says, snapping you back to his own face, making you keep your focus on him.

He unbuckles his belt, taking his time undoing it, pulling it out of the loop, letting it drop to the floor.

You know for a fact that your pussy is leaking onto your bed right now, and you don’t give a damn.

Sunghoon lets his pants fall, stepping out of them.

Now, he’s just left in his boxers.

“Come here, on your knees,” he gestures to you with his finger to the floor.

You obey immediately, crawling off the bed to the floor.

The carpet of your room scratches against your knees but you don’t care.

“Take them off.”

Your hands reach for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down gently.

His hard cock springs out, slapping against his stomach before stilling in front of you.

Sunghoon’s left hand finds the back of your head, grasping your hair tightly.

“Open your mouth, stick your tongue out.”

You do as he says, eager as he chuckles in amusement, “You must love cock don’t you?” He asks, using his right hand to slap the tip of his cock against your tongue, then spreading his pre-cum all over it as you hum in appreciation.

He quietly begins to push his cock into your mouth, before pulling back out.

You do your best to breathe through your nose, as saliva piles in your mouth and drips down the sides.

Suddenly he shoves himself into your mouth, until he hits the back of your throat, making you gag erratically.

Saliva spills out of your mouth rapidly, drilling onto the floor.

Your hands find his thighs, palms open, squeezing softly.

“I told you,” Sunghoon says, “don’t play games you’re not gonna win.”

With that, he begins to roughly thrust in and out of your mouth, getting off on how much you’re gagging.

Tears begin to pool in your eyes as spit and pre-cum mix together to coat his cock and spill everywhere.

He uses your hair as leverage, not letting up for even a second.

You keep your eyes on his as he uses you for his pleasure, even as your tears blur your vision.

“Fucking filthy,” he sneers, “I’m gonna cum in this filthy fucking mouth and you’re gonna swallow it, understood?”

You do your best to nod with his cock still in your mouth.

Suddenly he pulls out, and you gasp for air.

Sunghoon continues to pump himself, still holding onto your hair, “Stick your tongue out,” he says.

You do so and soon he’s spilling his load all over your tongue and into your mouth.

Just as he’s finished, he leans down, dropping a glob of spit on top of everything.

“Swallow.”

You do, eagerly, showing him your clean tongue once you’re done.

He pulls you up by your hair, leading you back to the bed.

Sunghoon shoves you down onto your back, pushing you so you’re up by the headboard, head on the pillows.

He’s on his knees in front of you, cock still hard.

He pushes you into a mating press, your thighs pushed against your chest, practically folded in half.

Without warning, he leans down, tongue meeting your wet, sopping pussy.

You gasp, jerking in place as you squeal from the immediate pleasure it gives you.

“Sunghoon!” You cry, eyes wide as his nonchalant ones look into yours.

“What?” He responds, as if it’s nothing.

“I’m..I’m sensitive.”

He smirks, “Then that means I get to make you come more than once.”

He goes back to your pussy, pinning you down to the bed as he eats you like a starved man.

Sunghoon groans at your taste, licking fat stripes up and down your pussy.

He takes your clit into his mouth, sucking it, flicking it with his tongue repeatedly, even having the balls to scrape it with his teeth lightly.

All this while your back arches up from the bed, hips held in place by Sunghoon’s hands.

“Oh my fucking god!” You shout into the open, knowing this would get you a one way ticket to hell.

Sunghoon then takes his tongue, fucking it into your hole.

You squeal loudly, hands gripping the bed sheets on either side of you.

More tears form in your eyes before falling like water from a faucet.

You’re full on crying from pleasure.

When you said you were sensitive, you meant it.

“Sunghoon, I’m gonna cum,” you whine,” one hand threading itself into his long locks.

He, who was occupying himself, makes his way back to your clit, licking circles around it, up and down, figure eights, anything to make you cum in his mouth.

You’re chanting to god, any god at this point.

With one final call of his name, you cum into his mouth, Sunghoon lapping it all up, swallowing it eagerly as you did to him.

Your breathing is heavy as you’re coming down from your high, noticing as Sunghoon pulls away, his lips glistening with your release on them.

He licks his lips, with that the remnants of you.

Just as you’re beginning to calm down, Sunghoon speaks, “We’re nowhere near done, sweetheart.”

Before you can say anything else, he takes his left hand and middle finger and inserts it inside you, making you gasp.

He doesn’t give you the chance to protest or adjust before he’s thrusting it in and out of you.

You throw your head back, getting used to the intrusion regardless.

Soon he’s inserting another finger, and together those fingers fuck you like no one has ever fingered you.

His fingers are long and they hit every spot inside you immediately.

Before you know it, you’re crying again in pleasure, the tears falling down your cheeks, leaving tear stains like the previous ones.

“Oh my fucking god, Sunghoon.”

“You love this, don’t you,” he says, almost like he’s mocking you.

His fingers curl, hitting that one spot inside you that has your toes curling.

Your mouth opens in shock, and stays open, refusing to close as he finger fucks you open.

Your pussy gets wetter as he goes on, more and more arousal leaking out of you onto his hand.

“You’re like a fountain,” he says, smiling almost genuinely. “You gonna cum again?”

You nod, finally closing your mouth, your lips pursing as you feel something different this time around.

“Sunghoon I think I’m gonna—”

And before you can finish, you’re squirting like an actual fountain, the liquid splashing out of you onto your sheets and Sunghoon’s hand.

You gasp, and even Sunghoon is surprised, his own mouth formed into an o.

His fingers finally slow down, pulling out of you as you finish.

Both of you are quiet for a moment before Sunghoon laughs, “That was fucking hot.”

You can’t help but blush, you’ve never squirted before.

It seems he can tell, “You’ve never done that before?”

You shake your head.

“Well, I’m glad I’m the first to do it.”

He then lands a surprisingly slap on your pussy, making you jump.

Your eyes widen, looking at him in shock and all he does is smile.

“I’m still not done with you,” he says.

“More?” You question.

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this without me fucking you, did you?”

Sunghoon pulls you towards him by your ankles, holding your legs apart before aligning himself with your hole.

You prepare yourself for his size as quickly as you can, because within seconds he’s pushing in.

You take deep breaths, “Fuck, you’re big.”

“I know,” he responds accordingly.

You pout at that, smacking his arm as he laughs at you.

He gives you time to adjust this time around, and after a moment you give him the signal to move.

You realize now he’s calmed down a little bit from before, which you don’t mind, seeing as this is a new side of him.

As he starts to piston his hips, his cock hits all the right places.

Your hands find their place on his back, your nails digging into his skin.

He groans at the feeling, liking the pain.

You mewl at the power in his thrusts, the roll of his hips.

“Fuck, yes Sunghoon.”

“You like taking my cock?”

“Love it,” you manage to get out.

“Oh you love it?” He teases you, but you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“Sunghoon,” you say.

He hums, focused on fucking you into the mattress.

You take his hand, bringing it up and wrapping it around your throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own widen for a moment before he bites his lip.

He presses down on the sides of your throat, just enough to wind you slightly.

“Dirty fucking girl.”

He keeps his hand there, steady pressure, making you feel closer and closer to cumming again.

“You gonna cum on my cock this time?” Sunghoon asks.

“Yes, yes, Sunghoon! Want you to cum in me!”

Sunghoon steadies himself, and uses his other hand to press on the bulge in your tummy.

“Cum for me, Y/N.”

You feel the band in your stomach snap for the third time tonight, cumming all around Sunghoon’s cock as you feel him cum inside you, pumping you full.

As his thrusts start to slow down and finally come to a stop, he unwraps his hand from your throat and just looks at you.

Your face, adorned by your glasses. Your red, tear stained cheeks. You look up at him, blinking a few times in succession, “What?”

Sunghoon leans down and for the first time, kisses you.

You kiss him back, albeit somewhat hesitantly.

As you pull away, he looks like there’s something on his mind.

You want to ask what it is, but choose not to.

After using the bathroom, Sunghoon helps you change your sheets and you both redress.

You figure he’s going to go back to his room, but he surprises you as he slides into your bed beside you.

Neither of you says anything for a few minutes, and then, Sunghoon speaks, “So, be honest with me. Who was that picture meant for?”

You take a deep breath, gunning between telling a lie and the truth. The truth eventually wins the battle.

“The truth is, it wasn’t meant for anyone. I sent it to you on purpose,” you say.

Sunghoon’s brows furrow, “But you said it was an accident?”

“Yeah, I lied. The truth is the other night, when you had Karina over I heard you tell her I’m not your type.”

Sunghoon starts to stutter out an excuse, “I didn’t mean—”

“I know what you meant, Sunghoon,” you say, cutting him off. “I won’t lie and say it didn’t sting but at the end of the day I already knew I wasn’t your type. The reality is I kinda just wanted you in my bed so I devised a plan with my friends to make you see me differently and well… it obviously worked.”

Sunghoon is quiet, until he’s not.

You expect him to be weirded out, curse you out and call you names. But instead, he starts laughing.

“That is the craziest shit I’ve ever heard and yet…I kinda like it.”

You look at him to find him already staring at you.

“You’re not weirded out?”

He shakes his head, “I’m oddly flattered. Maybe that’s weird but I guess that makes us both weird then.”

Suddenly, he’s shifting so he’s on top of you, caging you underneath him.

You don’t know what to do with your hands, so you, albeit somewhat awkwardly, place them on his shoulders.

“Is it safe to say you fascinate me now?” Sunghoon asks, leaning down, placing slow, deliberate kisses on your neck and shoulder.

You naturally turn your head to give him more access, “I guess not. I’ve never had someone tell me I fascinate them.”

Sunghoon’s kisses trail upwards until his lips meet yours in another fiery kiss.

Breaking away after a while, he descends until his mouth is adjacent to your clothed pussy.

“Sunghoon,” you interrupt, “we just changed the sheets.”

He looks up at you, a twinkle in his eye, “We can change them again.”

AEWON 2025

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beanietopia · 1 month ago

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your boyfriend satoru meant the absolute world to you. he was sweet, always spoiled you, and not to mention a huge fucking nerd.

you’ve always found yourself attracted to the introverted types that looked like they have never even spoken to a girl, and that was your man. the first night you met you let him speak to you about his favorite digivolutions for what seemed like two hours. he was a total social pariah, but you found that endearing about him. no one ever understood how satoru was able to bag a fine girl like you, but there was a secret the both of you kept from everyone else.

satoru was obsessed with porn, and he wanted to try everything he learned on you.

it didn’t help that satoru was also a bit of an attention whore at the same time, his twitter account having amassed hundreds of thousands of followers from the content he posted on there. at first he started by just reposting porn he found on the timeline, and before you two became a thing he tweeted the filthiest things he wanted to do to and with his future girlfriend. how lucky he was to have you fall in his lap soon after that! you instilled a confidence in him that he didn’t have before meeting you, and once you learned about his twitter you actually encouraged him to post more. aren’t you such an angel?

sex with satoru was always exciting. he knew how to switch things up in the bedroom, all thanks to his “gooner” fanbase, he likes to call them. he had to practically beg you to start filming whenever you two fucked, and how could you say no when he was whining your name so desperately like that? to satoru, fucking you was like breathing in air—he had to do it or he’d die. you couldn’t even worry about his phone recording the two of you, you were all too focused on the crown of white hair that was now nestled in between your legs.

satoru was obsessed with eating you out. he told you one of his favorite categories of porn to watch was men eating pussy, and he wanted to show you what he learned. this man had your legs folded up to your chest as he devoured you, his tongue lapping up your juices while trying not to lose himself too soon. “taste s’good baby..” he moans, chuckling to himself as you fight to squirm away from his hold. sometimes his glasses would slide down too much and he’d just throw them somewhere, which he always ended up regretting later. “you’re not going anywhere,” he warns once he comes up for air, spitting directly on to your pussy before sucking your clit between his lips. he got so messy with it, too. spreading his saliva all over your inner thighs as he made out with your lips, gently tugging them between his teeth. he could spend the whole day kissing every crevice of your body. well, almost the entire day. he still had to play digimon.

and there’s nothing more that satoru wants than for you to cum on his tongue. after all the work he put in to make you see stars, why would he let the bedsheets get rewarded for all his hard work? he needs to literally be shoved off your pussy to get him to stop, which gets you met with his pouty lips and petulant stare.

remember how you forgot that he was recording? right, now he’s showing you the video while already thinking of the caption he’d post along with it to his twitter account. of course you two went viral, being shared and reloaded by hundreds of porn accounts on the site. since then, your pervy boyfriend’s been asking you to record more of your intimate moments.

you’re no better than him, though. you keep saying yes.

can you BELIEVE it guys 2 posts in one weekend i'm really hitting my stride.. anyways to that one anon who wanted me to make porn!addicted jjk to a series YOU WIN.. until i get another idea to write for .. also should i make a taglist idk how to go about that but anyway i got work soon beanie out xoxo

@gojoscinnamonroll @webism @yemmuis @xxsapphirescrollsxx

#beanie writes 📝#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo smut #satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo

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karmicmortal · 1 month ago

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content warnings stepcest, noncon, oral sex, munch!jake, somnophilia, petnames (princess, baby), sex dreams, slightly rushed and abrupt ending

don’t like it? don’t read it!

notes this drabble was originally posted to istjisung. i am istjisung. if you see my drabbles posted on any account other than istjisung or karmicmortal, or the ao3 accounts of the same name, that is not me.

you’re not sure when the dreams started, but oftentimes lately, you find yourself having sex dreams. the kind of sex dreams that, weirdly, are all surrounding jake. jake, your stepbrother. the kind, gentle, energetic, wholesome jake. the one who always treats you like royalty. calls you princess or baby. would never step out of line and do something as dirty as this, with you of all people. you feel disgusting and perverted and disgustingly perverted for even allowing your subconscious to go that far.

but something about these dreams feel too real, too…much to be just a product of your imagination.

you feel like if you focus hard enough, you can smell jake, the scent of his shampoo and cologne flooding your nose, feel his touch. more often than not, you wake up with panties so sticky and wet that you couldn’t believe it was just from leaking while you dreamt about your stepbrother. perhaps you had touched yourself in your sleep, or angled your hips a certain way in which you could grind them and soak your panties. somehow, though, you have a gut feeling that that’s not the case.

the dreams never went much further than some touching, a bit of fingering, or oral at the furthest. the image was fuzzy, but it felt real. again, too real to just be a figment of your imagination. you’d never confirmed your suspicions, though, until now.

you’re having one of those dreams again. this time, you were laying on your back, the blankets thrown off of your body and the cool air of the night was chilling your body. but you felt hot. your legs were spread, knees bent to angle your hips, and he was buried between your plush thighs. his soft hair tickled your skin as he dives deep into your pussy, tongue licking over the slit, collecting your juices before he closes his lips around your clit and suckles. you swore you could feel the shock waves of pleasure as he alternated between flattening his tongue against your whole pussy, and tightening the muscle to a point, flicking it over your clit or fucking it into your tight and wet hole.

rocking your hips, you feel the tip of his nose bumping against your hard and sensitive bud, sending a jolt of electricity through your body, causing you to begin to stir awake. you were sure once you wake up, the pleasure would go away, but the more you regain you consciousness, albeit fuzzy, the more you feel it. you can hear the wet noises of the slurping, saliva mixing with your messy arousal, and they keep getting louder.

you open your eyes one at a time, staring up at your ceiling. sleep still blurred your eyes, so you tried blinking it away. when you finally feel that you can see well enough, you start to look around the room. nothing seemed out of the ordinary, except for the fact that your door was cracked open when you thought you’d closed it before going to sleep. maybe you didn’t latch it, so the draft throughout the house pushed it open. but then you looked down.

and there he was. jake, your stepbrother, between your legs.

you can see him clearly through the small stream of light from the hallway light seeping through the cracks in your door. jake is laying on his stomach between your legs. his large hands have your thighs pushed apart, knees bent so he can have full access to your cunt. it feels like ten minutes have passed as you take in the sight before you realize that this shouldn’t be happening. this is wrong.

with a gasp, you try reaching heavy, tired hands down to push him away from your center. unfortunately, his lips were wrapped around your clit and the attempt at shoving him away only made him suck deliciously on the delicate bundle of nerves.

“jake,” you whispered, voice hoarse with sleep. “stop…you can’t do this. it’s wrong…”

jake looks up at you, his eyes dark and unreadable. he smirked as he pulled away. he breathes out a laugh. “you’re dreaming. go back to sleep, baby. jakey will take such good care of you.”

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen hard hours #enhypen x you #enhypen x reader #jake sim smut #jake smut #sim jaeyun smut #© karmicmortal

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theyluvjake · 2 months ago

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our little secrets. — lhs

pt1 pt2 pt3 ...

Synopsis: cam boy heeseung. class president reader. the schools perfect student harbors a dirty secret, a dirty secret thats alot closer to her than she realizes. what happens when their paths cross? will they discover eachothers little secret?

MINORS DNI!

PAIRINGS - camboy!heeseung x innocent!reader

CONTENT - college au, smut & fluff with plot!! series, slow-burn, multiple chapters.

WORDCOUNT - 2.2k

WARNINGS - smut, but this chapter doesn't have anything except for masturbation, hee is kinda a perv.., reader is innocent class president who just so happens to have a secret obsession with a cam boy.. reader is a virgin, and almost completely inexperienced

NOT PROOFREAD

the schools golden girl. class president, never once has anyone even seen her with even a hair out of place. she was perfect in every way in the eyes of everyone else at the prestigious university. smart, pretty, and endlessly bubbly and kind. though she was friends with just about everyone, there was very limited people that were in her real "inner circle". the only couple of people that knew her well were her two best friends, also upper class and also very popular. yunjin and sunoo.

but then, there was lee heeseung, he wasn't the top student per-say, and he wasn't exactly "popular" but that's not to say people didn't notice him. he was definitely attractive and in an obvious way. he had a decent amount of friends due to his status as football captain. known for getting into trouble, fights, naturally, why would the two of you get along?.... complete and total opposites. .... or so it seemed.

but unbeknownst to anybody, you had a secret. a secret you would die if anyone found out. that would absolutely shatter your reputation. which is why you couldn't even tell your best friends.

one night you were scrolling on twitter when you came across a certain.... suggestive photo. you knew you shouldn't have clicked on it but it had just about hit the hour of the night when you started developing certain curiosities and you just couldn't help yourself... besides how would anyone find out?

yes. you were in college, you were 22 years old to be exact. and as embarrassing as it may seem, you didn't really have any dating experience. let alone any sexual ones. mostly due to the fact that you were more immersed in keeping up with your status and grades to be bothered with dating. its not that you didn't want a boyfriend... but you just didn't really know what to do? boys at school, honestly seemed too afraid to approach you, which ultimately led you to thinking that no one really had an interest in you. so here you were, at 2am on twitter, discovering a whole new world of pages you'd never seen before..

profile name: gamer.lhee

you read the username before your eyes wandered back down to the photo. the photo was sort of posed like a outfit-check, so at first you didn't really notice anything that was out of the ordinary. you just thought the photo was attractive... especially seeing the veiny hand that laid across his thigh. but as your eyes wandered further you could see the outline of his huge boner in the light grey sweatpants he was wearing. your eyes widened and jaw practically dropped (in preparation) before swallowing hard. you tried... (sorta), to look away but there was no use, as the pulsating between your legs was already evident.

*click* you pressed the profile icon, seeing his page littered with a plethora of pictures and short videos. along with a streaming sight & schedule linked within the bio. "Wendsdays and Fridays..." curiosity took over, as you began to scroll on the page, of course the account you were using wasn't your actual account. you were completely and fully aware of the presence you had on your public social media accounts. practically everyone from university followed you, you were their class president. if you had been liking or following anyone like this, someone would see.

and so this is how it started. a mindless scroll and now you were watching a clip on loop of some guy pumping his dick in his hand, while your own slid down into your pajama pants, feeling the warm sticky residue between the fabric of your panties. honestly, sadly and embarrassingly, you have never even fingered yourself before. you didn't exactly know what you were doing but you needed to feel something.. so just like that your fingers began to mindlessly play with your pussy, finding your clit fingers circling the bundle of nerves. — you didn't even realize how good it could feel just to to touch.. not even having to put anything inside. in all honesty that part sort of scared you a little bit.

shamefully, it was only but a few minutes until you felt your legs shaking, mindlessly whining as you imagined the filthy scene of you and this random man drilling into you.

now, you found yourself every single wednesday and friday night, logging onto his website to watch him. and it wasn't even just that he was physically attractive, and sure he was. but it was everything about him. the way he spoke, his voice, his confidence, his aura, that drew you in so deeply. and ever since then nothing and i mean nothing. else could get you off.

you kept telling yourself "its normal" "its healthy" "everyone does it" but they were just words to comfort yourself. try to hide the fact that you felt so dirty for enjoying it, feeling like a pervert for having a smallest crush on a random man on the internet to which you had never even seen his face.

or so you thought.....

—

lee heeseung. the two of you knew of each other, maybe walk past each other a few times, spoke maybe once or twice in a group setting. but it wasn't much. not much at all. he knew you were seen as "untouchable". but that didn't mean he didn't want to try. miss perfect, class president, perfect grades, perfect face. heeseung had always sort of kept his eye out on you. sure, so did pretty much every other guy in school, but with him it was different. there was something about you, actually it was everything about you. not to mention you were just about the prettiest girl to exist in his eyes.

but something about your perfect little persona made him wonder what it would be like to tear that down. what would be underneath it all? he hated himself for it, but he became borderline obsessed with the thought of ruining you. day in and day out the classes that you two shared, you were almost completely unaware of his presence, but little did you know, almost all day he was staring at you from the back of the class. eyes undressing you, imagining what you'd look like without your pretty school uniform on. fuck. he quickly shook his head trying to calm his racing thoughts. he didn't know how yet but he knew by the end of the year he had to have you. one way or another.

—

"a party..?" you sighed completely dumbfounded your best friend's had even suggested the idea.

"when have i EVER, been to a party?" your tone was completely telling of your stance on this insane suggestion.

"that's the point!!!" yunjin jumped around excitedly at the idea.

"no. no way. , don''t you think that will just make everyone i don't know.... not take me seriously?"

"who cares what they think!! its college y/n you have to go to at least one before we graduate. plus i doubt it will make anyone take you 'less seriously'... well, like as long as you don't get shit faced."

you sighed completely perplexed you were even considering the idea at all. but you couldn't lie and say that you had no interest at all, actually you did. but unlike your outgoing confident best friend, you unfortunately did sort of care what other people thought.

"fuck it. fine." you sighed and watched as yunjin and sunoo practically jumped around in circles excitedly.

"i don't really have anything to wear.." — "say less. i already have some outfits planned for us both!" yunjin smiled excitedly. what.... had you gotten yourself into.

—

it was the weekend of the party. friday night. typically you spent your friday's at home and when it got late... tuned in for a particular stream. but almost like a blessing, for some reason hee tweeted earlier in the day, he wouldn't be streaming tonight but tomorrow instead. you were just sorta glad you wouldn't have to miss it. as weird and coincidental as it was.

you yunjin and sunoo all shared a dorm, so it was easy for you all to get ready together. while yunjin was still overflowing with excitement, you on the other hand were almost a little anxious? particularly when yunjin showed you the outfit she had planned for you to wear. "no. no way. yunjin you cant be serious... will that skirt even cover my ass???" you held up the mini skirt concerningly.

she shrugged, "i don't know, doesn't matter though! anyways go try it on and see, its gonna be soo cute!!"

you sighed as you picked up the clothes heading back to your room. she had picked out a white ruffled mini skirt with a baby pink corseted top, along with some cute mary janes and thigh high socks that had small little bows at the tops. the literal only positive of the outfit, was that she at least kept your personal style in mind. only meaning the colors, frills and girlyness of it all.

when you put it on, thankfully it did cover your ass, barely. but it did. you uncomfortably tried to pull the skirt down and attempted to adjust the top so that your boobs weren't completely spilling out of it. god. what am i doing. you sighed and took another look in the mirror. you looked good, hot honestly, but it was the unfamiliarity of it all that made you uncomfortable. never once in your life have you went out of the house like this. and now, you were, and of all places, somewhere where all your fellow classmates would see you.

before long, yunjin had done a full on makeover and curled your hair perfectly. at this point your didn't even recognize yourself. "who's- AH ! omgod. y/n?!?!?" sunoo jumped dramatically when he saw the finished look, acting as if he had just saw a total stranger for a minute. and honestly, you don't blame him. "do i look ridiculous?" you squinted, though yunjin obviously had been hyping you up, you definitely needed another perspective to make sure this wasn't completely insane. "no, you look... hot. if i liked girls, i would totally-"

"ok shut up. thanks i guess.." you rolled your eyes sarcastically before the three of you made your way out of the shared dorm and drove over to the address of the house where the party was being held.

mentally preparing yourself, you took a deep breath before exiting the car, yunjin and sunoo locking arms with you as you walked together towards the house. the first think you smelled was alcohol. so much alcohol, the air was thick and the house was dimmly lit with blasting music. but what you didn't notice while you were distracted taking in the atmosphere was the people starting to stare, quietly whispering to their friends. "is that y/n?? there's no fucking way.."

to say people were shocked to see you at a frat party, was the understatement of the year. as soon as you came back to reality you could feel the stares. "is everyone looking at us.." you leaned over whispering in sunoo's ear.

"no!! definitely not! .... - they are looking at you~" he playfully winked. and as a result you just sighed as to try and shake off the anxiety overflowing through your body. the three of your finally found the kitchen where yunjin introduced you to a group of guys you hadn't even been aware she was friends with. most of them of which were on the football team. "hey sunghoon!" she smiled and walked up to the boy, "hey yun, you're attending parties now?" he laughed and she playfully hit his arm. "y/n is with you?" he not so discreetly eyed you up and down.

"yea, she made me. hey sunghoon," you smiled a bit timidly. the rest of the boys in the group introducing themselves like you all hadn't already known each other's names. you knew of each other, but didn't really know each other. "hey im heeseung,"

"yea i know! your in my economics class," you smiled,

"and lit and physics." he held his same warm smile as you looked a bit flustered, feeling a bit embarrassed for not having noticed the amount of time you two were actually together, unknowingly.

"oh yea... sorry"

the boy just chuckled softly, "no problem pretty, maybe now you'll notice me,"

you were a bit taken aback by the sudden compliment, but more-so, the way he said it.. "pretty". it was almost like you'd heard it before. but you were absolutely sure you hadn't. if you did you definitely would have remembered.

"oh my god." your heart started to race cheeks that were slightly tinged with color now completely red. "no fucking way. hee ... seung? hee? no no no there's no way." it was only just a matter of seconds to which your mind had been racing around. only snapped back into reality when you heard the voice of him again, this time he was holding out a drink for you, but your eyes went to his hands. not the cup.

"i - um i have to go.. to the b-bathroom.." you quickly almost ran through the crowd of people, muttering small excuse me's and sorry's. with no actual clue where you were even going. leaving the rest of the group utterly confused.

— tbc.

pt2.

#enhypen smut #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen series #enhypen imagines #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fanfic #heesung enhypen #heeseung hard thoughts #enha heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung #heeseung fanfic #heeseung hard hours #enhypen heeseung #our little secrets

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luvdsc · 5 months ago

Text

barbie girl.

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

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

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

i. hiya, barbie! hi, ken!

Na Jaemin does not know that you exist.

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

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

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

“Y/N!”

You stand corrected.

Na Jaemin does know that you exist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What have you gotten yourself into?

ii. you want to go for a ride?

“I’m getting sus vibes from him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“… Yeah.”

iii. sure, ken. jump in!

“Hey, Y/N!”

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

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

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

“Maybe the first five minutes of it only.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks grow warm. “… Yeah, why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You guys just get free clothes?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, I’ll be a model student, doll.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dare you say it? You look pretty.

You’ve never looked this pretty before.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

v. life is plastic, it’s fantastic!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I—I mean, I don’t really—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that a guarantee?”

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

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

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

vi. you can brush my hair.

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

“Amazing.”

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

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

“Yes fucking way.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Holy crap, this is so fucking good.”

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

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

“Definitely worth it.”

vii. undress me everywhere.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ 11:46 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: um

[ 11:50 a.m. ] choi YJ 🦊: 🤐

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

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

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

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

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

[ 11:51 a.m. ] jenaur 🤺: 🤐🤐🤐

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

“Hey, doll, what’s so funny?”

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

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

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

“Yep. How was the midterm for you?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin was right.

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

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

“Are you sure you wanna do this?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your cheeks grow warm. “You noticed?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’ll tell him later.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’re done.”

You decide to bite the bullet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why is he so afraid of loving you?

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

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

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

Right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Get out.”

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

“Y/N, I—”

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

“No! No, Y/N, you’re not, I jus—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You shut the door in his face.

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

You love him.

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

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

Because you love him.

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

But you love him.

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

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

God, you love him.

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

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

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

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

You love him.

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

You wish you never met Na Jaemin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You are loved.

xi. that’s so not fetch!

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

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

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

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

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

“Jaemin? What are you doing here?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jaemin is silent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know,” he says softly.

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

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

“Then why?”

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

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

He knows.

xii. you can’t sit with us.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m an idiot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EPILOGUE.

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

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

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

“I met someone.”

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

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

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

“I made her blueberry pancakes.”

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

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

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

“Does it ever stop hurting?”

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

“Eventually.”

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

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

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

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

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

Your first love teaches you what love isn’t.

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

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

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

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

“So did I.”

1K notes · View notes

twohearts-hs · 7 days ago

Text

Dove & Captain: 1 - Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader Series

Words in Total: 7.5k

Pairings: Dr. Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Synopsis: She's his Dove. The ER nurse who is the definition of chaos, trauma and humour in scrubs. He's her Captain, gruff, emotionally guarded war veteran with a prosthetic leg and completely in love with her. Six years together, a mortgage, four dogs and the ability to conquer anything. This is a story of their life in one day. He is 49, she's 30. This is one day of their life based on the 15 episodes of 'The Pitt'. There will be little imagines of their relationship over the years.

Warnings: Swearing, Age Gap, Trauma, Medical Language/Procedure, Pregnancy, etc.

A/N: This is a complete series of ~60k. I will post a few snapshots of their relationship over the six+ years they've been together.

Hope you enjoy :)

Series Masterlist

0700

The bathroom tile was absolutely and utterly freezing against her bare knees, but Y/N did not move. She couldn’t. She couldn’t risk it, but she also, she couldn’t stop. Another wave of nausea crept up her spine and she leaned forward just in time to vomit into the toilet bowl again. Her hands gripped the rim of the toilet with white knuckles, her pulse loud in her ears. She stayed like this, motionless, forehead pressed to the cool porcelain, eyes watering and sweat along her brow.

She knew now it was not food poisoning or stress. Yesterday, it confirmed it. She was indeed pregnant. Dana made her take a pregnancy test, and it came out clear. Then, they confirmed it with a blood test. Then again, with an ultrasound. Seven weeks along, she was, and she was completely terrified.

Y/N had endometriosis, a very severe case which at nineteen she was told by doctors that the chance of her getting pregnant is very slim, but the chance of her being able to carry full term was even slimmer. Therefore, when she and Jack got serious, Y/N expressed to him that she was not able to have children,, and he supported her in that. He was older, forty-nine now and she just hit thirty, together for six years. Not married. But common law. Share a mortgage, a credit card and joint bank account as well as, four dogs while he helped raise her brother.

Very serious, very committed, very much together, but just not legally binding to one another through a marriage contract. Though, they love one another with everything in themselves.

However, he did not know she was pregnant. She found out yesterday during her day shift. He worked the nights. They have been barely passing one another, barely able to talk with their conflicting schedule. Y/N used to work nights, but she got pulled to day shifts lately due to a nurse leaving on maternity leave.

She was planning on telling him tonight. He had the day off. His shift ended at seven in the morning, while she started hers at seven. When she got off at seven that evening prior, she had a whole speech prepared to tell him. However, only Dana knew at this moment.

Y/N took a slow, ragged breath, blinking back tears. Not because she was sad. Not because she was happy. But because she didn’t know how to feel. Never had she thought she’d be able to get pregnant with him. Never had she thought she’d have to talk to Jack about what to do.

He was forty-nine. He was older. To throw a child into their life would create chaos. She was younger, thirty and it could work. However, both were workaholics. Y/N never thought she’d be able to be a mother, so she never thought this through.

Tonight. She would talk to him tonight. They would plan, discuss and come up with the solution moving forward. A nurse. A homeowner. A mother to four dogs. In a stable, quiet, loving partnership with a very nice man. A man who understood her more than anyone ever had. They owned dogs, shared a mortgage, grew herbs in the windowsill, argued about laundry and both fought over who would cook in the evenings,as that is one of their shared love languages. It was good. Peaceful. Calm. Lovely.

However, morning sickness fucking sucks. And this? This was not part of the plan. Especially being told that this could never happen.

Sleeping in a bed alone last night while Jack worked the evening shift was something she did not like. However, she had to go to work, talk to him and see him for a bit before he went home and she had to keep this a secret. She had twelve hours to work through before they could have a serious talk.

Glancing at her watch, she groaned again.

Late. She was utterly, completely and terribly late.

Rounds were about to start soon. The handover from night shift to day shift was about to happen. Work was about to begin. Yet, Y/N was stuck on the ground of the ensuite, tears flowing down her face and nausea bubbling over.

Dressed in a pair of sleep shorts and a bra, her hair was matted and bags covered under her eyes.

She was fucked.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself away from the toilet bowl. Guilty a little bit because she was leaving with a spoiled toilet, and normally she would clean it after puking. However, she was late to work and Robby would have a fit.

Jack was at the computer, filing in the last bits of his shift. Writing patient notes, talking to Robby for the handover. However, his eyes furrowed as he glanced at his watch to see that it was just past seven and Y/N was not here yet. Where was she? She was never late. Rather, she was constantly early.

“Dr. Robinavitch?” a voice came from behind Robby as he leaned against the nurses’ station talking to Jack.

“Yep,” he replied, turning to the voice.

“Melissa King. I will be joining you today. I just came from two months at the VA,” Mel told Robby, voice pitched with excitement and a smile.

“Hey, welcome to the Pitt,” Robby replied, shaking her hand. “This is Dr. Jack Abbot,” Robby introduced, glancing over to Jack, who was focused on the computer in front of him and didn’t glance over to the resident.

“Nice to meet you,” Mel hummed before looking at Robby again. “I can’t tell you how excited I am to be here today, so…”

“Talk to me at the end of the day,” Jack muttered, looking over to the resident, voice low and serious.

Robby glanced at Jack. “Ignore him. He had a rough night,” he stated, “and is having an ongoing existential crisis.”

Jack stood up, straightening as he looked a them. “Don’t worry, you’ll get there soon enough,” he joked, coldly, face serious. “Robby, have you seen Y/N?” he asked, looking over to his old revival and long time friend. “She’s never late and I haven’t seen her.”

Robby’s brows drew together in concern. “No, not yet. She’s usually in by now.”

Jack didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his gaze to the main hallway, like maybe she’d appear if he just stared long enough. But there was nothing – nothing…no rushed footsteps, no half-apologetic smile, no Y/N clutching a coffee cup and calling out something sarcastic to the team. Just a sterile corridor buzzing with too many lights and not enough soul.

He tapped his fingers against the nurses’ station counter, the way he always did when he was trying not to overthink.

“Maybe she overslept? Traffic? Maybe one of the dogs got out?” Robby offered casually, but Jack didn’t bite.

“She doesn’t oversleep when she is supposed to work,” he muttered under his breath. Then, louder. “She never oversleeps. The dogs are trained. They don’t escape.”

Robby shrugged. “Traffic then? You two are like in the woods. Text her. She’ll be here,” he replied with a smile before patting Jack’s back. “Don’t stress.”

Jack nodded watching as Robby walked away with Mel, rounding up his interns, residents and med students for rounds. Pulling out his phone, he brought up his messages with Y/N, but she had sent nothing since last night.

Y/N slammed the door shut to her Bronco with more force then intended, her hair still damp from the world’s fastest shower, pulled into a low messy bun. She hadn’t had time to do her usual minimal makeup, and her scrubs were slightly wrinkled. She felt gross. Heavy. Empty. Swollen. Her bag was slung over one shoulder, and a tangerine stuffed in her pocket that was her makeshift breakfast. She knew Jack would lecture her. However, the nausea was still there.

Running across the hospital parking lot, her sneakers pounded against the concrete in rhythm. Each step sent a dull ache up her spine, her stomach still uneasy, her head spinning from the sudden movement and lack of food.

She burst through the staff entrance, making her way through the triage to the back, scanning her badge on each door.

It was 7:18.

“Shit,” she hissed to herself, brushing past coworkers as she headed towards the nurses’ station after placing her belongings in a locker. Jack was still there. Robby too. And several new faces which she placed as the new intern, resident and medical students.

Her gaze met Jack’s, and he raised a brow at her, but she just sent a small smile. He didn’t look angry. But his eyes were sharp, worried. That was worse.

“As you can see, we have some new faces with us this morning,” Robby began. “Good morning. Good morning. Come on over.”

Y/N stood behind the station, looking over the new faces. Jack was glancing at her, but she said nothing.

“Starting with second-year resident, Dr. Melissa King, fresh from the VA,” Robby announced.

“Everyone calls me Mel,” Mel said with a smile. “I’m so happy to be here.”

“Trinity Santos, intern,” a new face said, pale skin and dark hair.

Y/N crossed her arms as she glanced over to Dana who was on the phone. Y/N knew there was an incoming trauma.

“We’ve got two traumas from the T,” Dana said, holding the phone to her ear. “Five minutes out.”

“Ok, copy that,” Robby replied. “Actually, this is the most important person that you’re going to meet today. This is Dana. She’s our charge nurse. She is the ringleader of our circus,” he said before looking over to Y/N. “And this here is Y/N. Nurse as well. Nurses are your best friends. As you can see, our house is always packed, and our department is mostly clogged up with boarders. Those are admitted patients waiting for a room upstairs, sometimes for days. Beds are a very precious commodity around here, so please be quick and efficient with your workups. What else?” he paused for a moment to breathe, then nodded. “We treat the sicker patients back here, but please keep your eye on that waiting room. Make sure nobody’s gonna die out there. Your senior residents are Dr. Collins and Dr. Langdon. You report to them, and they report to me. Ok? Great.”

As the last of the introductions faded into the background, Robby took his team to deal with the incoming trauma.

Jack noticed she wasn’t listening. Not really. Her arms were crossed, fingers twitching like she was trying to ground herself, eyes glazed over just enough to make him uneasy. That wasn’t like her.

Before she could slip away to get a shift change from the night shift, Jack reached out, a firm but gentle hand on her elbow. “Kid.”

She looked up at him, startled.

“Hi,” she whispered, a small smile gracing her face. “How are you? How was the shift?” she asked, sending him a small smile.

He stared at her for a minute, whiskey eyes connecting with hers. “Fine. Rough, but fine. We can talk more later about it. Can I talk to you for a minute, though, in private?” he asked, his voice low. Not unkind. Just quieter than usual.

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then gave a tiny nod, letting him guide her a few feet down the hallway near the med supply room, just out of earshot from others. It was private but not secluded enough to feel like a scene.

Jack looked over her carefully now that they were face to face. Her skin was pale, tinged with that clammy undertone he only ever saw in patients who hadn’t eaten or had something deeper going on. The bags under her eyes were harsh against her face. No mascara, no usual faint blush or a neat bun. Her hair was tied back like she’d done it blind, and her face looked dry, bitten.

“You were late. You’re never late,” he said quietly. Not accusatory. Just a fact. His eyes narrowed as he scanned her over. Then he tried to make eye contact with her.

Y/N glanced down, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know. I’m sorry,” she whispered, shifting uncomfortably. “It won’t happen again.”

“That’s not you.” He waited for a second, but she was still looking down. “What happened, Dove?”

They were alone, and the nickname slipped his lips.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” she replied a little too quickly, shaking her head.

Jack frowned. “Dove, you don’t look fine,” he replied, trying to get her to look at him. “Look at me.”

Y/N glanced up to see him, his eyes meeting her and all she could see what the complete care he had for her.

“I’m just tired. It’s nothing,” she said, brushing her hand through her hair. “I went to bed late. I overslept. Forgot to set an alarm. Stayed up late talking to Beckett.” Beckett was her younger brother, half-brother.

He tilted his head, raising a brow. Silence happened between them. “Y/N…”

“Jack, just drop it,” she muttered, voice tight. “I’m here now. That’s what matters, right?”

He stared at her for a moment, crossing his own arms now. Biceps bulging which usually makes her heart flutter, but she was glancing away. “I know you. You’re hiding something,” he whispered.

Y/N glanced around. They were always professional at work. People never really questioned their relationship. Him being a trauma attending and her a trauma nurse. But now, with his voice so soft and eyes so concerned, it felt like a crack in their practised armour.

“Jack,” she started, but the words faltered, her throat tight. “I didn’t sleep well. Ever since I’ve been put on days, it’s just weird sleeping alone when you are doing nights and–“

“You’re deflecting,” he interrupted. He leaned in a little closer, not touching her, but lowering his voice so that no one would overhear. “Dove, I’m not mad. I just want to know what’s going on. Talk to me.”

Her eyes flickered again, to the hallway beyond, to where voices were rising and monitors beeped from the trauma bay. She couldn’t do this here. Not now. She felt the weight of the morning crashing down on her all over again. The puke. The nausea. The fact that she was pregnant.

“We can talk later. I need to work now,” she whispered, looking up to him. “I want to know how your shift went. I’m off at seven. I’ll be home and we can order in, watch one of those serious documentary movies thing you like and talk,” she proposed. Then she took a deep breath. “I’m ok,” she said confidently. “I’m ok,” Y/N said again.

Jack didn’t believe her.

Not because he thought she was lying. But because he knew her. Knew the way her jaw clenched when she was holding back. The way her voice steadied was not out of calm, but control. A nurse who thrived in chaos. A woman who didn’t flinch in a code blue. But here she was – eyes too shiny, hands twitching like she was trying to hold her pieces together.

Still, he nodded.

“Alright,” he said quietly. “Later then.”

She gave him the briefest nod. “I love you,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I know,” he whispered back. Y/N reached out and squeezed his hand. “It’s ok,” she whispered again, a mantra for herself more than anything. “Go home, sleep, have a shower, think of me in the shower,” she hummed, tone light as she winked, “give the dogs a kiss. Then I’ll be home before you know it.”

He chuckled lightly as he stared at her. “Did something happen with your brother?” he asked, raising a brow. She shook her head, and he narrowed his eyes. “Did something happen to your mom?” he asked. She shook her head. “Did something happen to you?” he asked, voice low now.

“Go home, Captain,” she stated, tone sharp. “I’ll see you later.”

He stared at her for a few more moments. “Have you eaten?” he eventually asked.

“No. I have a tangerine in my pocket that I grabbed on my way out,” she replied.

Jack rolled his eyes. “Christ, Y/N,” he whispered. “Let me go buy something from the cafeteria. I don’t want you to be running on nothing,” he muttered before walking off but squeezed her bicep as he left.

Y/N sighed, watching him leave. She stayed there for a moment before walking back to the nurses’ station. Y/N settled down next to Dana who looked over.

“You look like hell,” she muttered, chuckling and shaking her head.

Y/N rolled her eyes and glanced over to her friend. “You sound like Jack,” she muttered as she grabbed a tablet to look over.

“Jack said that. Doesn’t sound like Jack,” Dana replied.

Y/N sighed. “More like ‘Dove, you don’t look fine’ is what he said,” Y/N muttered as she looked over the charts. “Give me a shift change.”

Dana looked over at her, glasses perched on her nose, as she looked at the young nurse. “Have you told him?” she asked, hinting to the little secret she had.

Y/N groaned. “No. However, he is sniffing out that I’m hiding something.”

“He needs to know, sweetheart,” Dana replied.

“I know,” Y/N whispered back. “Spent the morning puking my guts out. That is why I was late.”

Dana clicked her tongue, her voice lowering but still tinged with that no-nonsense edge only a seasoned trauma nurse could carry. “Morning sickness is not your friend, but hey, you get something out of it in the end.”

Y/N looked over as Dana read her tablet. “I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Y/N whispered. “Don’t know how Jack will react.”

Dana’s eyes met with Y/N’s. “I’ve known you since you were a small, new graduate nurse. Well, met your briefly when you did your last practicum. What I know about you is that you already know what you’re going to do,” Dana replied. “However, Jack needs to know. He’s a lot of things – gruff, grumpy, allergic to small talk – but he loves you. If he finds out you didn’t tell him? Especially over something like this? He’s going to be very hurt.”

Y/N nodded. “I will tell him. Tonight. I won’t keep this from him, but,” Y/N sighed and looked around, “I’m scared.”

Dana reached out and gently touched Y/N’s wrists, grounding her. “Of course you are. You’d be crazy not to be. But you’re not alone, ok? You’re not doing this alone.”

Y/N swallowed thickly and gave her a small nod, eyes glassy. “It’s just…I was told I couldn’t. I couldn’t have kids. Couldn’t get pregnant. Therefore, Jack and I just didn’t care. We just went along with the ride. We didn’t think that I could get pregnant, and here I am. And now it’s like I’m holding a secret I never thought I’d have. Now I have the impossible and it’s terrifying,” she whispered, voice cracking, barely audible now.

Dana squeezed her wrist once before pulling away, sensing how raw Y/N was. “That’s a lot to carry, hon. And you’ve been doing this all alone. Let someone in,” she whispered, giving her a look.

“I let you in,” Y/N replied.

Dana raised a brow. “Let him in. How long have you two been together? Six years or something.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah. No ring though,” Y/N replied, trying to make a joke as she let out a low chuckle. “No, we aren’t planning on getting married.”

Dana rose another brow. “How many dogs do you have?”

“Four. Two rescues, then I have my dachshund from when I was twenty-two and Granny, Jack’s rescue from aeons ago,” Y/N replied, lowly.

Dana nodded. “Four dogs. You bought a house together a year ago. A beautiful house with a big yard. He’s your emergency contact. You go on camping trips with him even though you hate camping. He bought you a car when you were together for what, six months? Because he didn’t want you walking home in the dark. He’s basically like Beckett’s dad. You share everything. You two are serious. Practically married. Talk about everything together. He’s your best friend, your other half, though I would say you’re the better half and you deal with his trauma, and he deals with yours. Tell him. What are you scared of?”

Y/N was silent for a moment and the words were on the tip of her tongue, I haven’t told him the truth.

However, just when she was about to respond Jack appeared in front of them. Coffee in one hand and a wrapped sandwich in the other. His eyes narrowed between the two of them, trying to calculate what was happening.

“Eat, Kid,” he said, placing the sandwich down in front of her. “It’s a breakfast sandwich,” he told her. “And a coffee. Two sugars and a splash of milk.” He didn’t look smug about it, rather just quietly concerned.

Y/N stared at him. “Thank you,” she said. However, the sandwich stayed still.

He stared at her. “Eat.”

“I will,” Y/N whispered. “I just need to get a shift change.”

“Eat while you’re getting a shift change,” he replied. His eyes were bouncing now between Dana and Y/N, sensing the tension, the way Dana was sitting just a little too straight, and how Y/N was avoiding his gaze.

He looked at Dana. “You know something.” Jack raised a brow at Dana. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Dana gave him her best nurse face. Calm, unreadable, efficient, while Y/N said nothing. “Nothing. All good. We’re good. Just girl talk,” she said smoothly, tapping her table. “Thanks for feeding our girl, though. She needs it.”

Jack glanced at Y/n, raising a brow. He lingered for a moment, arms crossing over his chest again. “Girl talk, huh?” he asked, tilting his head.

She forced a smile, pulling up the coffee and bringing it to her lips. “Thanks for the coffee and food,” she whispered, then smirked. “Just girl talk. You hate girl talk. You know Dana,” Y/N said, looking over to the older woman, “probably telling me to eat better and stop dating emotionally unavailable men.”

Jack raised a brow, letting out a scoff. “I’m very emotionally available…now, aren’t I?”

Y/N huffed a small laugh, grateful for the reprieve, even if her hands were shaking slightly around the cup. “You’re evolving. Better than when I first met you.”

He studied her for a moment longer, his eyes narrowing just a better. “Talk to me tonight, ok?”

Y/N nodded. “I will. Just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked like he was filing the entire interaction away in that steel-trap brain of his. The secrecy. The whispered tones. The way Dana had looked at Y/N.

Something was going on. And he didn’t like being left in the dark.

“You can tell me everything…anything. You know that, right?”

Her heart clenched. “I know,” she whispered. “And I do. You know too much about me.”

Jack gave a slight nod. “I’ll head out. Dogs are probably plotting a mutiny without me. Especially Delta. Barely a year, but pure chaos.” He sent her a small smile. “Text me if it gets too crazy here or if you get a really good case,” he finished.

Y/N nodded. “I will. Can you give Granny her medicine? I wasn’t able to when I left,” she told him, naming their oldest dog, a female named Alaska, but they call her Granny. She was Jack’s dog when they got together, which he got when he came back from his last tour.

He nodded. “Yeah, I can. Did you feed them?”

“I did. I let them out too before I came. Normal routine. However, Winston didn’t want to move from the bed so can you please let him out again?” she asked, sending him a smile. Winston was Y/N’s wire-haired dachshund, which she got when she was twenty-two after nursing school.

He nodded. “Yeah, can do. I’ll see you later, ok? Text me, ok?” he said, and Y/N nodded, agreeing.

Then Jack was gone, turning to leave, but he glanced back one more time, his brows furrowed, eyes sharp. Watching her like he was solving a puzzle.

As soon as he was gone, Y/N slumped back in her chair, sandwich untouched.

Dana glanced over; brow raised. “He totally knows something is up.”

Y/N groaned. “I know. He’s going to dig until he finds out.”

“Well, let’s make sure he hears it from you and not from putting two and two together.” Dana tapped her temple. “Smart man, that one. Scary smart.”

“I’ll tell him tonight,” Y/N muttered, more to herself than anything else. “Tonight.”

Dana gave her a look. “Promise?”

Y/N nodded, slower this time. “Promise.”

“Good. Let me get you something for the nausea,” Dana replied, getting up. She pointed to the sandwich that Jack bought. “But eat, you’re growing a baby,” she lectured.

“Dana, shush!”

Dana gave her medication to help with the nausea. They were going over their shift change when Robby appeared. Y/N was munching on the sandwich when Robby called their names.

“Abbot’s told me that he’s got a pregnant teen coming back today for mifepristone. Let me know when she gets here,” Robby said, looking at the two women.

“Sure,” Y/N replied.

“Yep,” Dana stated before turning back to the computer.

“Bowel obstruction still waiting on surgery consult. What about Garcia? She was just here for the traumas,” Robby rambled of the board.

“I think she was waiting for her attending to sign off,” Y/N muttered, looking over to Robby.

Robby and her met eyes. Then he shook his head. “Ok…” he walked towards a computer to file patient charting. “Oh, and one of the med students took a header,” he chuckled. “I parked her in the lounge under the guise of a work comp report. Will one of you go in there, eyeball her, and make sure she’s alright?” Robby asked, glancing over his shoulder to look at the nurses.

“Last time I checked, I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 178,” Y/N replied, typing on the computer. “I don’t babysit med students.”

Robby turned to look at her. “Jack said you’re hiding something,” he said casually. “What are you hiding, Ace?” Then he raised a brow.

Y/N glanced at Dana. “My kinky sex life,” Y/N said with a smirk.

Dana snorted but didn’t miss a beat. “Yup. That’s exactly what she’s hiding. She’s got Jack handcuffed to the bed every other night. You should see the bruises.”

Y/N chuckled as Robby stared at them for a moment. “I’m kidding!” Y/N expressed. “Maybe on the handcuffing, but not on the kinky sex,” she added with a smirk. “Men with trauma, freakiest in town,” she replied with a smirk and a wink.

Robby just stared at her. “You deflecting adds to my hypothesis,” Robby muttered. “Abbot knows something’s up. I know some things up. Dana definitely knows what’s up.” Then his eyes landed on her. “You’re not planning on breaking up, right?”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “No!” she exclaimed. “God, if anyone would leave anyone, it’d be him. I am a whole wagon of problems,” she muttered.

Robby hummed. “Well, you deflecting is a sign. Secondly, Jack gave me this look this morning like he was ready to gut me with trauma shears, so whatever you’re hiding…he knows you’re hiding it, and he’s two seconds from losing his mind or figuring it out,” Robby muttered as he typed things into the computer. “Intelligent man.”

Dana hummed. “That’s what I said.”

Y/N turned in her chair to give them both an unimpressed look. “Do you know how exhausting it is to be this emotionally intelligent and book smart, responsible for lives, and handling interns, med students and residents who know less than me?” she poked.

Robby glanced over his shoulder and pointed a finger to her. “Deflection.”

Y/N rolled her eyes.

“I’m just saying. You were late. In the eight years you’ve been working here, you’ve never been late. You look pale, there are bags under your eyes, you’re quieter than usual, you didn’t jump into this morning’s trauma, and Jack is acting like some keyed his fancy truck.” He glanced at her and he chuckled. “I know…” he whispered, shaking his head. “Jack will either not forgive you or will…” Y/N raised a brow. “You’ve adopted another dog.”

Y/N stared at him and raised a brow. For a minute, it was silent as eyes were on her. “Yes. How’d you know?” she hummed.

“Knew it,” Robby muttered before going back to the computer.

“No. I didn’t adopt another dog,” Y/N said moments later.

“Delta chewed through the seaming of the couch?” Dana asked, looking over to the nurse. “She’s a menace.”

“That pup has the soul of a raccoon,” Robby added, clicking through patient charts. “Chaos and cuteness in the same package.”

“Keeps us on our toes. Never had I ever had to kennel train a dog as she is not worth trusting,” Y/N replied.

“Anyway,” Dana muttered, changing the subject, “med student is going to miss the arrival of the living dead.”

Robby glanced over at them again. “How many are we expecting?” he asked, voice serious now.

“We are getting three, but one died en route. Don’t know who’s luckier, us or them.”

“What’s open?” Robby asked.

“14,” Dana replied.

Y/N got up. “Good luck. I have patients to see,” she muttered, leaving the nurses’ station after Dana gave her a shift change.

Y/N was talking to Langdon about a patient, writing down notes as they talked about what she needed to do to care for them, when Robby showed up.

“Y/N, triathlete, Otis?”

Y/N glanced up. “He’s stable. Repeat potassium is 6.1. Renal wrote the dialysis order. Tech should be down soon…maybe fifteen minutes,” she told him.

Robby nodded, looking at her. “Good. Thank you.” Then he glanced over to Langdon. “Language mystery solved yet?”

Langdon shook his head. “No,” then he sighed before looking up. “Hey, what’s your take on dogs?”

“In what context?” Robby asked.

“For kids,” Langdon added.

“Kids and puppies go together like fish and chips. Man’s best friend, you know?” Robby said, walking around the station to go to one computer.

“Well, you don’t have a dog.”

“I don’t have a best friend,” Robby added.

“What am I?” Langdon hummed.

“You’re my best resident,” Robby replied. “Big difference.”

“Yeah, but we’re still friends,” Langdon poked.

Robby glanced over. “Not if this conversation goes on much longer. Talk to Y/N, she has dogs.”

Y/N’s head perked up from where she was sitting, looking over to Langdon and Robby. “What?” she asked.

“You have a dog?” Langdon asked, raising a brow.

“I have four,” she said with a chuckle.

“Four?” Langdon gasped, raising a brow. “Four dogs?” he asked again, shocked by her comment.

“Uh, yeah,” Y/N said with a chuckle.

“How can you have four dogs?” he asked, raising a brow.

Y/N glanced around for a moment, then turned slightly in her chair to face Langdon fully, amused. “Easy,” she said. “I don’t have kids. I don’t sleep much. And I live with a man who’s just as much of a softie for strays as I am. We also have a giant piece of land for them to run around and we enjoy being outside.”

Langdon blinked. “Jack’s a dog guy?”

Robby snorted but before they could respond, Mel came over asking for Langdon to check in with a four-year-old.

Y/N continued to type, but she could feel Robby’s eyes on her. “You’re staring,” she stated as she continued to type. “It’s creepy. Stop staring.” Then she glanced at him. Robby said nothing, and Y/N scoffed. “Robby,” she whispered, raising a brow.

He threw his hands up. “Good work, Ace,” he said with a smile as he went back to work.

Y/N was doing her job within the hour, checking on her patients when Otis began to crash. She ran back out to the nurses’ station, catching the eyes of Collins, Robby and Dana.

“Otis’ BP is crashing. 70 over 50. Still waiting for dialysis,” she announced, nodding to the room that her patient was in.

They entered and instantly got to work.

“How are you doing there, Otis?” Robby asked.

“Not so good,” he replied.

A series of beeping was heard from the machine as the patient crashed. Y/N began setting him up.

“50 litres. Non-rebreather, please,” Robby called out.

Y/N listened, working alongside them. An ultrasound was done.

“Fuck,” Y/N muttered, looking over at the ultrasound. “Diastolic collapse of the right atrium and right ventricle,” she muttered before Collins could say anything on the screen.

“Tamponade from uremic effusion,” Robby muttered.

“That is why his BP is low?” Santos asked, glancing over to the monitors.

“Yup, indeed,” Y/N replied. “Too much fluid and pressure around the heart, chambers can’t fill.”

“Otis, you’ve got some fluid around your heart,” Robby told the patient as Y/N grabbed gloves. “We need to get it off.”

Y/N lowered the bed, making him flat lying down.

“25 of Propofol, 10 cc’s of lidocaine with epi, pericardiocentesis tray,” Collins said to Y/N, who nodded.

“I have to get that from central,” Y/N replied, looking over to Robby.

“No, no. Just open a central line kit. Dr. Santos takes the head of the bed and bags him if he stops breathing, compressions if we lose the carotid. Prep and drape the subxiphoid, please. 10 cc’s of 1% with,” Robby ordered.

Y/N nodded, grabbing supplies.

“Chlorhexidine here.”

“Injecting lidocaine,” Robby announced before following suite.

“Pressure down. 60 over 40,” Santos explained.

Robby grabbed the ultrasound from Collins.

“Wait, you can’t ultrasound and place,” Collins barked to him.

“I know, that’s why I’m taking the probe,” Robby replied. “18-gauge thin wall on a 60 cc syringe, please, Dr. Collins. Let’s go,” Robby muttered, looking over to the resident. “You’re going in right over the centre of my probe…” The doctors continued to work as Robby explained the procedure to Collins. Y/N watched.

Eventually, the patient stabilised.

However, just before they were stabilised, Y/N ran to the bathroom. Robby watched her cover her mouth and instantly ran out of the trauma room, running across the bay to the bathroom. Dana watched her run as well, dodging co-workers before making her way to the bathroom.

Opening the door to the bathroom, she kneeled down to the toilet, puking her guts out. Breakfast sandwich and coffee coming back up as she clutched the toilet bowl.

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her as Y/N stayed crouched, one hand gripping the edge of the toilet, the other holding her hair out of her face as wave after wave of nausea rolled through her.

The bathroom door opened gently behind her. Soft footsteps. Not rushed. Familiar.

Dana.

Without saying a word, Dana stepped in and crouched down beside her, pulling a handful of paper towels, wetting them and placing them gently on Y/N’s back of her neck.

“Nausea meds didn’t help?” she asked, rubbing her back.

“Guess not,” Y/N muttered, coughing and wiping her mouth before leaning back against the wall. She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes.

“Are you ok?” Dana asked, looking at her.

“I don’t know,” she whispered back. “I don’t know what set it off, as I was fine.”

Dana chuckled lowly. “It’s morning sickness, sweetheart, you can’t control when it hits. It’ll be fine. You’ll stop being sick soon at the end of this trimester,” she responded.

“If this baby stays within me,” Y/N mumbled, not thinking. “If I decide to keep it too.”

Dana rose a brow. “What does that mean, sweetheart?” she asked, looking at the young nurse.

Y/N sighed. “It’s not my first time getting pregnant. The other times, I’ve lost it early on,” then she groaned. “I think it’ll be better if I just get an abortion so I can’t go through losing it again.”

Dana’s expression softened, the sharp edges of her no-nonsense persona melting into something gentler. She reached over and cupped Y/N’s cheek for just a moment, grounding her.

“Sweetheart,” she said softly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Tears began to brew in her ducts as she looked at the older woman, blinking them away, trying to hold herself together. “No one knows. No ex-partner. Not even Jack knows. Not even Beckett,” she whispered. Then she sighed. “I don’t know what will happen or not. I just…maybe it’s for the best to just get this dealt with and never tell him. But what if I do tell him and he gets so excited then I lose it. I don’t want to go through that again,” she continued to ramble. “I don’t want Jack to go through loss again.”

Dana sat beside her now, fully next to her, knees cracking slightly as she adjusted on the tile floor. “I get it. I do. But this isn’t something you should carry alone. Not this time.”

“I don’t want to see that look in his eyes,” Y/N whispered. “The quiet heartbreak. I know he would like kids. He says he’s too old, and he’s ok with my endo, but like I see the way he looks at his sister’s kids or like kids in general. Like he’s wondering what it would’ve been like if he hadn’t missed his shot.” She closed her eyes for a moment to breathe.

Dana was quiet for a moment before she said, “He loves you. Everything about you. Mess, chaos and all. Hope and heartbreak included. He’s your partner. Your other half. Talk to him. He deserves to know…not the decision, but the truth,” she told Y/N. “Go home. We will be fine without you today,” she suggested.

Y/N scoffed. “That’s the last place I want to be,” she replied.

“Let me cover for you for the next hour. Go lie down in on-call. I’ll say you’re charting or looking up labs.”

“Dana,” Y/N tried.

“Y/N,” Dana cut her off. “You just ran out of a trauma room and vomited into a toilet. You’re not fine. You’re a damn supernova most days with that brilliant brain of yours, but even stars burn out if they don’t rest,” she replied.

Before Y/N could reply, there was a sharp knock on the bathroom door.

“Y/N?”

Robby’s voice. Low. Concerned and filled with love.

She closed her eyes for a moment and took a breath, silence happening between them.

“She’s fine, Robby,” Dana called out.

A pause happened, then Robby replied, “I’m not leaving until I see that with my own eyes, Dana.”

Dana turned to Y/N. “You ok if I let him in?” she asked.

Y/N wiped her eyes quickly with the sleeve of her scrub top. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Might as well. He’ll probably come in–“

The door opened, and Robby walked in.

“My point exactly,” Y/N muttered, looking up to see the older male attending.

His eyes fell on Y/N instantly, crouched on the floor, pale and sweaty, but clearly alive. His concern deepened.

“Jesus, Y/N,” he whispered, crouching down beside her, not too close, scanning her face like he was memorising it for changes. “Scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” she whispered. “Just a rough morning.”

His brows furrowed. “You ran out on a code. That’s not like you,” he muttered. “What’s happening? You sick?”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Do you want me to call Jack?” he asked, voice dropping a little bit. A sympathy tone.

“No,” she said a little too bluntly. “I’m not fucking broken if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m fine. I can work. I just needed to puke. That’s all. I will take an anti-nausea and I’ll be fine. Do not call Jack,” she barked. “Do not even mention this to Jack. I’m not in the mood to deal with this,” she muttered, getting up.

Robby rose with her, slowly, watching every movement like he expected her to collapse again. “Y/N,” he said, carefully. “I didn’t mean–“

“I know what you meant,” she snapped, her tone sharp but her body trembling. She leaned against the sink for a moment, catching her breath. “But I don’t need saving.”

“No one said you did, sweetheart,” Dana replied gently, standing now, smoothing her hands down her scrubs. “We’re just worried.”

“Well, don’t be. I’ll be right,” Y/N responded as she looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection betrayed her – pale skin, red-rimmed eyes, hair clinging to her damp forehead. “I’m not your patient. I’m your colleague. I’ll handle it.”

Robby raised a brow, stepping just a little closer. “If this is just a stomach bug or food poisoning, you’re really overreacting to the offer of help.”

Y/N glared at him through the mirror. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” he replied, crossing his arms, and tilting his head, “I’ve known you for far too long. Eight years. You don’t run from a code. You don’t puke in your shift. I have never heard you take a sick day. You don’t bark at people who offer to call your partner unless something is really wrong.”

Silence.

Dana cleared her throat. “Robby,” she tried.

“No, it’s fine,” Y/N interrupted, voice strained. “There is something. But let me deal with it on my own.”

Robby sighed. “Y/N,” he tried.

“No. I’ll be right,” Y/N muttered. “I’m ok. I can work. I want to work. Honestly, the next trauma I’m jumping in as I haven’t gotten any blood on my hands yet today.” Robby and Dana slowly nodded. However, they stayed quiet. Y/N turned. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she responded. “Not with you. Or you,” she said, pointing to each of them, “definitely not Jack and definitely not even with myself.”

“Can you talk to Kiara?” Robby tried, raising a brow.

“Definitely not her,” Y/N barked. Both of them stayed quiet. “I love you all. I thank you for helping me. I thank you for your care. I thank you for your worry. I just need to deal with this on my own, and Jack will know eventually,” she said, voice softer now. Y/N’s eyes shifted between them. “Do not tell Jack, and if you do, I will make all your lives a personal hell,” she barked before turning to the door and walking out.

Robby glanced over to Dana once the door clicked shut behind her. “You know what this is, don’t you?” he asked, looking at his nurse.

Dana crossed her arms and levelled him with a look. “Not my secret to share.”

Robby sighed, running a hand down his face. “Dana,” he tried.

Dana snorted. “Do not try to get it out of me?” she warned, shaking her finger. “But she is going through something hard. Something she didn’t think was possible. And the fact that she’s still standing, still showing up, should tell you exactly the kind of woman she is.”

Robby leaned back against the bathroom wall, arms crossed tightly, staring at the door Y/N had just exited like it might swing back open and explain everything.

“She said Jack doesn’t even know,” he murmured.

Dana said nothing.

“She’s scared,” he added, quieter now. “Not panicked. Not sick. Not spiralling. Just…scared. Jack mentioned something was up with her this morning. He knows something is up.”

Dana looked over at him, rose a brow.

“Let me work the problem,” he muttered.

“She’s not your patient, Michael,” she said sternly.

He shook his head. “Just hear me out…humour me,” he said, holding his hand up as he began ticking off on his fingers. “Sudden nausea. She was late this morning. No fever. No reported GI outbreak in the hospital. She said she’s not sick. Ran out of trauma. Pale, lightheaded. Avoiding food. And her mood? All over the place.”

Dana was quiet, arms still crossed.

Robby held up both hands now. “And don’t even try to say stress, because Y/N thrives under pressure. She doesn’t run. She charges.”

Silence stretched between them like a wire pulled tight.

Then, he went softer. “Morning sickness. Hormonal shifts. Emotional volatility.” Robby looked over at Dana now, his voice lower. “She’s pregnant, isn’t she?”

Dana didn’t even flinch. “That’s not mine to confirm or deny,” she replied.

“But I’m right,” Robby replied.

“I did not say that,” Dana warned.

“You didn’t have to,” his voice wasn’t triumphant; it was heavy. Like the realisation carried more weight than he expected. “Excellent doctor, I am,” he hummed with a smile, winking.

“Don’t tell Jack,” Dana whispered, voice blunt.

“Lips are sealed,” he replied, giving her a salute before going back to the outside world of the emergency room. “I am correct, aren’t I?”

#jack abbot x reader #jack abbott x reader #michael robinavitch x reader #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader

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hopefullhearts · 9 months ago

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Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

#scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #twisters x reader #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #scott miller x reader #scott miller #scott miller x you

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reignpage · 1 month ago

Text

Bubble Bubble

Summary: in which alien!reader splashes around with Gojo Word Count: 3.4k Warnings: smut, 18+, not really a standalone, find the other parts in my fics masterlist, not proofread

Day 14

“Yeah, so then I told Yuji, ‘You just gotta go with your gut,’ y’know? He didn’t get it, but eh, he will, eventually.”

You hum.

The two of you are in the bath. More specifically, sharing a bath. It’s not something he’d ever share he does to anyone, since, well, he doesn’t exactly feel proud of his decisions.

It’d been two weeks by now, since he first met and took you in, and you’ve gotten along splendidly. Maybe, a little too splendidly if the fact that boundaries have been crossed majorly is anything to go by. And what Satoru means by this, of course, is how, since that fateful night where he had shoved his foot in his mouth and sparked a curiosity for pleasure in you, you two had been sleeping in bed together.

Something about humping each other like dogs on the sofa seemed to mean all bets were off.

Honestly, Satoru doesn’t sleep very often. He still has duties to attend to but also, he really likes watching you snooze — the man hates how creepy that sounds, how creepy all of this sounds but the blue lights that hum beneath your skin just demands his attention. So, at night, he traces his fingers lightly over your bare skin, following the lights as they journey back and forth from your heart. They follow blood flow, he figures, though he’s no doctor.

There’s also something else: you and him have now developed a routine of dry-humping before bed. It’s terrible and Satoru should be ashamed, he knows that. His relationship with you was never supposed to be like his. You were supposed to be friends and he’s gone and taken advantage of you at your most vulnerable.

He wants to stop. Really.

But when you hold his arm, pressing them between your soft and warm breasts, and look up at him with those pretty eyes, how is he ever supposed to say no?

“But it’s your job, no? To teach?”

Your Japanese has gotten so much better. All those movies are really paying off — if only he could put a movie on for his students and let them figure it out. It’s great to be able to communicate with you better. Now, you two actually have discussions about what you’ve watched and what you want for dinner. You even tell jokes sometimes. They’re terrible and cheesy but when they come out of your mouth, they’re hilarious.

One problem though: you hold him accountable.

Defensively, Satoru, answers, “I do. I teach all of them. I’m a great teacher!”

“But if Yuji confused, then you not teach well.”

He groans, head thrown back over the foot of the tub. You’re sat in front of him, between his legs with your head resting on his wet chest. "Why is no one on my side? Not even you."

"Maybe you teach us," you reply, following it with a giggle over your own joke. In spite of himself, he chuckles, admitting defeat. Then, playfully rolling his eyes, he tickles you as revenge. Whirring sounds out from your chest as you laugh uncontrollably.

This is nice, he thinks. He wishes he could stay here, in this tub, with you forever, even if his whole skin becomes wrinkly.

Your relationship is developing quite fast, so is your general capabilities. Soon, he'll have to open the door and let the world know who you are, let the sun graze your skin, the wind kiss your lips, and the ground feel your weight.

Satoru can only hope that day is far, far in the future.

"Whad'ya want for dinner tomorrow? I'm going shopping in the morning on my way back from my mission."

"Hmm, ramen?"

Playing with a lock of your hair, he notes, "We've been having ramen too often, E. Let's try -um- something healthier, m'kay? L-leave it to Toru."

The steam rises up and floats in the air, blurring his vision ever so slightly. Lovely as it is, the heat is getting to his head, short-circuiting his brain, making it difficult to focus, especially when you’re flicking your own nipples.

“Hey, don’t do that,” he scolds, grabbing hold of your mischievous hands.

Oh and another thing, you two have gotten a little more adventurous than over the clothes humping. Satoru started off with wanting to make your ride, no pun intended, smoother by stimulating your chest — that had been an experiment to see if you have nerve endings there and you most certainly did because you writhed faster and moaned his name deliciously.

At first, it was over your shirt for the friction, which you love. But then he couldn’t help himself and his wandering hands found themselves under your shirt and groping your breasts. They were warm and heavy and so soft. Since then, he hadn't been able to get his hands off your tits. And apparently, neither could you.

“No,” you say. “I like it.”

Satoru makes a noise of embarrassment, like the consequences of his horniness is catching up to him. “No, E, baby. You don’t do that in front of other people.”

“No other people. Just Toru.”

“Okay, yes, good. But you only play with yourself during special times.”

You shuffle around and with your head tilted, you ask, “What ‘special times’ mean?”

Oh great, yet another dirty thing to teach you. If the government ever found out he’s harbouring an alien and he didn’t attempt to find out the secrets of the universe but instead chose to molest said alien, he’d be arrested, convicted, and he'll go down in the history books as the most perverted human in the world — no, the universe.

“Forget it, E. Let’s just get washed up, okay? I’ll do your hair.”

Water splashes around when your fist smacks against the surface, more bubbles forming. “No, Toru is teacher. You teach. Not fair you teach Yuji but not me. I want to learn too. Tell me special times, Toru!”

How does he even begin to explain the distinction between teaching the kids versus teaching you? Because he really wants to make clear that he does not teach the kids anything remotely resembling this. Let that be known far and wide.

Raking a wet hand through his wet hair, he sighs.

“Alright, E. This is another thing we don’t talk to other people about, okay?”

You beam, a wave of blue lights running through your body just once, making a krrrrrrrrr sound that he finds just so endearing. “Secret?”

“Yes, secret.”

Soft lips meet his. 'Secret' is code for the intimate moments you share where you’re not alien and human caretaker, but rather just E and T. As soon as that word is uttered, you'd reach up and kiss him, tracing the seam of his lips with your tongue before plunging in, melting against his body.

Satoru holds your head close, spare hand clasping your wet neck and then falling down to one tit, groping it the way you like. When you arch your back, he takes that as a sign to flick your nipple. It never fails to make you gasp into his mouth.

Groaning, he deepens the kiss impossibly further, chasing the sweet taste of your lips like it might be his last meal. Though you two have never humped against each other completely bare, being naked like this hasn’t been new for almost a week now. Still, when his cock hardens even more, you giggle. “Toru boner? Want me to make it go away?”

“No, not yet, E,” he mutters. “First, I gotta teach you about ‘special times,’ remember?”

Manoeuvring you back into facing the front, he holds your knees and widens them until they’re resting against his thighs perfectly. He’s never taken a proper look at your pussy before and even from this angle he can’t really see much. He knows you have a slit, bare and smooth, and everything on the outside looks fine. But he’s never felt more. Since you like grinding so much, he figures you must have a clit, right? So surely this wouldn’t be too hard to do.

“So, E, special times refers to masturbation. It refers to when you make yourself feel good alone. Do you wanna know how women masturbate?”

Breathless, you nod.

He skims one hand down your stomach, tickling you for a second, before he spreads your lips and feels with his middle finger what you have there. Oh. “Feels pretty normal to me. Are you sure you’re an alien, E?”

“Yes. I come from stars. Far away. You can’t fly to. No air up there. You die.”

Right, okay, well he wasn’t planning on doing that, so he focuses back onto your pussy. He finds your clit easily; it’s exactly where women’s tends to be so he wastes no time in rubbing around the area, laying feather-light touches to your clit here and there.

Blue light is shining under your skin again. He must be doing a good enough job.

“You rub this. It’s called a clit. Can you say that for me?”

“C-clit. I rub clit for special times.”

He hums. "Good. Now if you ever want some time alone, just tell me you want to play with your pussy, 'kay?"

"I play with pussy?"

Satoru kisses your head, a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. You’re growing wetter under the water, your pussy warm — hotter than he remembers the average pussy to be — and he’s growing breathless too. You feel so good. “Play with your titties, baby. Just like earlier. Go on.”

Your hands fly up, groping hard. He watches the fat pool between your fingers and his mouth suddenly feels empty; he hasn’t tasted your tits yet. What a shame.

Venturing lower, he feels the divot in your pussy and he knows you also have a hole. He tests it with one finger at first, poking and waiting for any sign of pain. There is none. Instead, you jut your hips out, encouraging him. So, he pushes that finger in.

“Oh, fuck, E. W-what are these?” There’s pleats inside your pussy. They’re moving. Withdrawing in a haste, he examines his finger. It’s still there so he knows your pussy juices aren’t corrosive or something, though he does feel some tingling. Oddly, there's a light sheen of blue in the translucent liquid. “Baby, do you know anything about this? Do you know if we can do this? Like, I don't know, did you learn anything from your home?”

Still playing with your nipples, you throw your head back and whine. “It’s okay, Toru. Safe. Just make me feel good, p-please.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you. And I don’t exactly want to get hurt too but I can turn my infinity on.”

“Shield?”

“Yeah, shield.”

Grabbing his wrist, you lead it back to your pussy and press it hard against the entire area, humping his palm unashamedly. “No. Safe, Toru. Listen to E! My people say we are—“

And then you proceed to make alien noises that confuses him even more but he trusts you. You may not know much about Earth but you aren’t stupid — you just find it difficult to communicate.

Hesitantly, he pushes two fingers in, testing your stretch. It’s a tight fit for sure but somehow your moving walls are massaging his fingers, welcoming him in and urging him deeper. The sensations are new and odd but somewhat addictive. He wonders if you have a G-spot.

Curling his fingers, he presses against where it usually is and you whimper, body tensing. Okay, so G-spot check. Good.

“‘We are’ what, E? I didn’t understand.”

Your chest makes a thrill sound.

“How say, okay together? Match?”

“Compatible?”

You shrug like that’s a good enough synonym. Resuming playing with your breasts, you let Satoru explore your insides, thrusting his fingers in slowly as his thumb rubs your pussy.

Definitely hotter inside than usual, Satoru also notices something else. Actually a couple things, all driving him absolutely wild: one, every spot inside you is a G-spot, he knows that because your eyes fly open and both your skin and your eyes glows brighter in pulses every time he presses in at any spot.

Two, your canal is longer than average because not even his ‘freakishly long’ fingers (as Shoko called them once) can reach your cervix when usually that had always been the case with the women he’d been with before.

Maybe you don’t have a cervix. You haven’t had a period at all and though he knows a month hasn’t passed, you also haven’t brought it up even when he tried to teach you about menstruation. Maybe you don’t have a womb either. His dick throbs. Yeahhhh, he’s a terrible human being. There’s no way he’s getting turned on by the prospect of having as much unprotected sex as he wants with your beautiful body, pussy leaking his cum and making your thighs sticky.

“Can you have babies, E? Y’know, little humans.”

Beginning to thrash around, you’re more than distracted. He has to nibble on your ear to get your attention, and then, you, with very little patience, respond, “N-no. Babies made different way. Ah, T-toru! I feel good again. More, please!”

“Alright, alright. Sorry, baby. Didn’t mean to withhold an orgasm. Tilt your head this way, E. Wanna kiss you. You know how much I love it when we kiss whilst you cum.”

Ever so obedient, you hurriedly turn your head around, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him desperately. Every kiss, every touch of your tongues together is interrupted with high-pitched moans, splashing water, and vibrations from your chest, that telltale humming growing louder and louder as the pleats in your pussy wrap around his fingers in a tighter and tighter hug.

They hold onto him like they’d be very upset if he removed them for too long as he thrusts and presses all your sensitive spots over and over again, the water sloshing around and spilling over the tub, creating a mess he'll have to deal with.

“T-toru! Fingers soooooo long. I feel full!”

“I know, E, baby. You like feeling full, don’t you. Your pussy doesn’t want me to leave, does she?”

Satoru fails to mention one other thing he’s noticed and he really can’t spend too much time thinking about it because it’s threatening to make him bust his load prematurely: your pussy emits light.

Seriously, it’s like something from some shitty hentai. But there’s no doubt about it; blue light is shining onto his pale fingers, making the water and the bubbles an even darker blue. Everywhere he looks, there’s you. You are blue. When he stares up at the sky, he feels his chest ache. And when he sees stop signs and cars resembling any shade of blue, his cock is growing in his trousers.

Fuck, even when he catches sight of his eyes in the mirror, unobscured by his blindfold, all he sees is you.

“You’re so hot inside. Do you hate me for wanting to fuck you right now, E? Hmm? Would you hate me if I just lifted you up and dropped you down on my cock? No, probably not, right? ‘Cause you want me too, right, E? You want Toru?”

“Y-yes, Toru. Want -ngh!- you. Always”

He coos, “Aww, you’re such a sweetie-pie, aren’t you? My good girl. Go on, then baby, show me h-how much you want me. R-ride my fingers.”

Smelling like roses and bath salts, the steam fills his nose and Satoru thinks he might just pass out from the overstimulation — your soft breasts pressed against his bare skin, your lips wrapped around his, your hot pussy pulsing, and flashes of light casting blue shadows around the room. “You gonna cum, E? You feeling good? Is this better than humping my cock, baby? We — ha yes just like that, ride my fingers, baby— we can do b-both now. Just gotta tell Toru when you want to —ngh- feel good, yeah?”

“Yes, Toru. I tell you. Oh, I’m close! That good feeling coming. Don’t stop!”

Even from his angle, your body is rubbing against his cock which he had been steadily grinding against you the entire time.

Together, you cum.

“Ah, fuck, E. Ah, shit, oh yeah, baby. So good.”

Your nails are digging into his wrist as you ride out your orgasm, the glow under your skin thrumming devastatingly. He can't help himself; Satoru tilts your head back, lips skimming against each other but not quite pressed together, just gulping down your moans. He loves seeing your eyes too.

In these moments, he sees himself reflected in your eyes the way he sees you reflected in every breath, step, and move he makes. It's like a brand, a punishment for making him so weak. Those glowing blue eyes are his only reprieve for his crimes, the consolation for his depravity, and the very thing that convinces him he's doing right by you.

"T-thank you, Toru," you sigh out, body relaxing and lights shutting off.

He almost misses the pretty lights. "Mmm, you're welcome. Not like I didn't get anything out of it. But I have to say, your pussy took me by surprise. I didn't expect for there to be moving things. And the light! Damn, do you just glow everywhere?"

You hiss, nails digging into his thighs.

"Youch! Hey, what was that for?"

Pushing away from him, you shuffle over to the other end of the tub, holding your knees together as you dip lower into the water, your eyes the only things visible.

Poor baby's sulking and he doesn't even know why.

"Hey, E. Talk to me. What's wrong? I didn't hurt you, did I? I didn't scratch something?"

Flicking water at him, you growl, "No."

"Okay, so what's wrong? Uh, hey, don't look at me like that. If you don't talk to me, I'll take away movie privileges."

"No movie?"

"No. Movie."

SPLASH!

Dumbfounded, Satoru sits there, soaking wet, water dripping from his hair with his mouth open. In front of him is a woman who's playing with some bubbles, the picture of innocence. "Alright. Fine. That's how you wanna play? Stay here by yourself then."

He's out of the bath and towelling off by the time you get to him, arms wrapping around his waist as you smush your face against his chest. Forcing his limbs to not embrace you, he waits patiently for your next move.

Though he would never want to upset you or make you feel like he's mad at you, he has enough tact to know permitting your bad behaviour even once would only spell trouble for him in the future.

"Come." You urge him to bring his face closer and so he does. Then, with gentle hands, you wipe the suds from his cheeks and grab a small towel to dry his hair. He lets you ruffle it around with the 'swooosh swoosh swoooosh' sounds he makes when he does yours.

Once dry, he peeks out from under the towel and his gaze softens. "Talk to me, baby. Tell me what I did wrong."

You sigh. "You make fun of me. My body. You think I'm...weird. Am I not pretty like women in movies? Like Rapunzel?"

His heart breaks. Literally. He feels it give up on him and shatter into tiny little fragments, like mere reflections of stars on a dirty puddle on the road.

"Oh, no, E, baby. Hey, listen," he urges. Grabbing your face, he presses a kiss on your nose and smiles a little when you crinkle it. "I think you're pretty. Very pretty. Prettier than Rapunzel. Prettier than everyone else. I'm sorry I made you think that I think your body's weird. No, of course not. Sure, it's different but so am I to you, I'm sure. I was just taken by surprise because of how new it all is. I think it's very cool. I think you're cool, okay? Tell me you understand, sweet thing."

"I pretty?"

"Gorgeous. Stunning. Ethereal."

Flattening your bare body against him, he feels every curve and has to will his dick to stay asleep. Then, with a much lighter tone, you ask, "You like me, Toru? More than movie girls?"

He whispers against your head, "Yeah. I like you more than them. I like you more than anyone else in the world. In fact, I like you too much to let anyone take you away."

"Someone take me away?"

Then, with a fierce resolution burning in his eyes, he swears with all the cursed technique swirling in his veins, "No. Never."

#divider by @enchanthings #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk fic #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo fic #gojo smut #jjk smut

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cxrrodedcoffin · 9 months ago

Text

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

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yoongsriverandme · 2 months ago

Text

✩︵ 주문 — MIROTIC!

❝ You want me, you've fallen for me You're crazy about me, you can't escape me I got you under my skin (Ooh) … ❞

⤑ pairing: like crazy!park jimin x shy fem!reader

⤑ genre: smut, fluff, angst, rom-comy vibes, friends-with-benefits, s2l2f2l (they did some things out of order), idiots to lovers, college!au, fuckboy!au, reverse harem, mutual pining, "unrequited love," she fell first but he fell harder.

⤑ wc: 9.3k

⤑ summary: sleeping with your long-time crush was not how planned to confess your undying love to him, but if it was the only way you could be close to him then so be it. jimin's had a lot of lovers, and you're one of them, but why the fuck is he so bothered by the thought of you being with someone else?

⤑ rating: nsfw/explicit - proceed with caution!

⤑ warnings: fuck boy!jimin, popular "it" boy!jimin, shy "loser" girl!reader, lowkey toxic!jimin (i'm not sorry!), making out, bathroom sex, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, A LOT of dirty talk, kinda shitty aftercare sorry, protected sex (pocket condoms 😓), JEALOUS jimin like holy shit, possessiveness, angst for a min, heavy pining, feelings realization, miscommunication, arguing, emotionally constipated!jimin, love confessions, angst with a happy ending (sorry nammy :/), not everyone gets a cameo this time sighs sadly.

⤑ date posted: march 9, 2025

⤑ authors note: HEY HEY HEY!!! bet you guys didn't expect this one!!! (i didn't either, random inspo struck me), but literally every single idea i've ever posted about IS sitting in drafts, and this one has been halfway done for weeks, so i figured i'd put it out there as i work on some of my other bigger pieces!

i ALSO just wanted to pop in here and say WOW, thank you so much for your support like... the feedback for my account has been phenomenal, and i want you all to know how touched i am!

with that out of the way, i hope you guys enjoy this fwb!au because wow was this a big one!

𓈒 ꪆৎ masterlist

⁘ preface: i only use bts as face claims! they are my muses, so anything they say or do, do not reflect their real life character!

The first time you ever talked to Jimin was when you had sex with him.

Now you know that sounds bad!

But you had no idea what to do when he had come to you as you hovered awkwardly against one of the walls in the house party you had been forced to attend.

You were the designated driver for all intents and purposes, so the red solo cup that you had clasped in your hand was nothing but plain sprite, which was used as a mixer.

‘Quite the devilish combination’ You couldn’t help but think as you swirled the carbonated liquid around boredly.

The room was stifling, filled to the brim with inebriated, sweaty bodies.

You were surrounded by sex, drugs and alcohol, some couples impatiently groping each other in the corner closests to you, and you forced yourself to look down, your cheeks warm at the blatant show of… affection.

It stunk, the music was too loud, and there were so many places you would rather be than here, like back home in your dorm studying, or watching an episode of your favorite show.

You didn’t fit into places like this, and you were one-hundred percent sure you had that fact stamped to your forehead.

The only pleasant part about this whole experience had been being able to see Jimin.

He was quite popular, and worlds away from you, but you couldn’t help but harbor a school yard crush on the pretty boy.

He was just… tantalizing, with the way he spoke to the way he always held himself with a slight air of seduction. Boys and girls alike were ready to drop to their knees with so much as a word from the man, and you’re ashamed to say that you’re no different.

It was embarrassing, really, with how hard and fast you fell in love with somebody you barely knew, but he shared so much of himself, you felt as though you knew enough.

You know he’s funny, and kind, despite the… whorish, reputation that precedes him.

You’re in no place to judge, truly, because if he were to come up to you right now asking you if you would like to have sex with him, you would say yes.

“Lame party, right?” Sounds a voice from beside you.

You jump ten feet in the air, a bit of your drink spilling out over the edge of the cup as you fumble to keep the damn thing still in your hand.

“Uh – yes?” You answer with a slight grimace, your stomach drops to your ass when said host appears next to you.

Park fucking Jimin.

This was not what you meant! Not so suddenly! Not like this!

You stare at him dumbly as you spiral, and a small smirk tugs at the corner of his plush lips.

“You think?” He asks teasingly.

You instantly stumble to recover from your mistake. “No! Yes, no, I… I just –” You’re blubbering like an idiot, and Jimin seems to take great pleasure at reducing you to a flustered mess, but he relents with a laugh.

“”M just kidding.”

“No! I just… I’m not used to going to this sort of thing.”

“Oh?” Jimin questions with a raised brow.

You put your drink on the small refreshment table next to you so you can wring your hands together as a nervous tick.

“I’m my friend's designated driver for the night, and they knew I wouldn’t be doing anything, so…”

“That’s selfless of you.” He compliments, and warmth spreads from the roots of your hair all the way to the tips of your toes. “Ah,” You try to wave him off. “It’s… it’s nothing. I don’t mind.”

“But also that makes sense.” Your brows furrow. “What makes sense?” You ask.

He bombards your space, hooded eyelids giving you a once over.

You’re suddenly very aware of how dirty and scruffed your converses are, and you fidget a bit under his scrutinizing gaze.

“That you haven’t come to one of my parties before, because I’d recognize your pretty face anywhere.”

Your eyes widened.

Holy shit. Was he hitting on you?

“Oh!” You laugh nervously. “That’s… that’s very sweet of you.” You gulp.

His smirk only gets deeper, and he leans closer so that his breath caresses the shell of your ear. If his intention is for you to be able to hear him over the music, he’s doing beyond a wonderful job at succeeding.

Your eyelids flutter rapidly, and your hands shake, and you have no idea where to put them as you lean back slightly.

“What do you say we go somewhere else?” He asks with a purr, pulling away just enough to gauge your reaction to his proposition.

Now, you’re not an easy girl. Jimin may sleep with anyone he wants, but you’re just not into that sort of thing, and you know better than to –

“Yes, please.” It comes out as a slight whimper, but he hears you nonetheless, because he takes you by the hand and pulls you through the throngs of people.

Your stomach is tied up in knots, and you’re not even sure if you’re still connected to reality.

Instead of taking you upstairs and into his room like you thought he would, he redirects you into the hallway and into the door, and your stomach drops slightly when he turns on the light to reveal a bathroom.

‘It’s nice’ You try to convince yourself, but your train of thought is cut off when a pair of heavy hands lay themselves on your jean-covered hips, pulling you closer to his body and trailing his lips up the side of your neck.

Your breath hitches and you let out a small, “Oh.”

“Do you still want this?” He murmurs into your ear once more, and you find yourself nodding rather enthusiastically, much to your embarrassment. Jimin just chuckles.

He spins you around, and your eyes land on the slope of his neck that disappears into his leather jacket. Fingers tuck themselves under your chin and force you to look at him.

“You’re a shy one.” He coos, and you shiver when his thumb caresses the corner of your mouth, dipping into it just a bit.

“I’m not used to this.” You admit with a self-deprecating grimace. “What a shame.” Is all he says before tilting your head back and connecting your lips.

The kiss is soft, softer than you would have expected from your soon to be hookup.

You’ve heard through the grapevine that he’s rather ferocious with his kissing, with spit and teeth, but somehow still making sure it's nice for his partner.

He cups your wrists and guides your hands to tangle themselves in his black mullet, and you’re relieved to be able to do something with your hands.

A whimper escapes you when his palms press you to him by the lower part of your back, turning you to the nearest wall for balance.

Soon, the kiss turns hungry, and you can feel the strain of him against his tight black pants, and you tremble, like putty in his hands.

You try your best to keep up with him, kissing back with a lot more fervour than you’ve ever done before.

You’ve had sex once, and that was just because you wanted to lose it before college, just so you could say you did it.

It was awkward because it was with one of the guys from your English class, and he looked like he didn’t know what he was doing either. It was stiff and it burned, and you weren’t sure if you were even turned on enough to participate in penetrative sex.

Well, the same can’t be said for you now, because you can feel the material of your panties grow damp with arousal, sticking to your folds and causing slight friction.

It’s when Jimin finally rolls his hips into yours is when you finally let out a true, loud moan.

“Thought you were going to be quiet all night.” Jimin teases, and you flush. “I - I’m sorry.” You mutter against his lips.

He pulls back and strokes your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Relax. ‘M just teasing.”

“Right, right.” You laugh demurely.

He lowers his head to the skin of your neck where he takes the skin of it between his teeth, and your hips buck into his on accident.

“Shit!” You curse, and you slap a hand over your mouth. “You like pain.” He says almost to himself. “Definitely noted.”

You’re not sure what he means by that, but your mind seems to blank when his hands sneak their way to the button of your jeans, fiddling with the metal. That cursed thumb presses into the skin above the hem.

“Do you still want this?”

“Yes, please.” You whimper. Jimin grins and you can feel it, because he places a gentle kiss on the surface. “How polite.”

You swallow a whine at his praise.

He pops them open with practiced ease, and pushes a hand into your pants, hissing when he comes in contact with your wetness.

“Fuck, you’re this wet just from kissing?” He asks in awe.

Jimin finally finds himself in your panties and you gasp when the tips of his fingers press on your clit.

“There it is.” He says to himself triumphantly.

He’s quick to flatten his hand, replacing the tips with the pads of his fingers, drawing quick but fast circles over the pleasurable bud.

“Jimin!” You cry, and your nails rake themselves through his hair, drawing him into you.

You hold him close as he rubs at you, and his free hand keeps himself balanced on the wall just above your hand, completely enveloping you with his body.

“Feels so good.” You mewl, and he nearly growls.

“God, you’re so cute.” He groans.

He takes his hand away and your eyes furrowed in confusion. Was it something you said?

You don't have much time to think because you’re being spun around and bent over the counter, and you’re face to face with your debauched features.

“Jimin?” You ask, but you’re cut off by him snatching your pants and underwear down your hips and they pool at your ankles.

You threaten to turn a scarlet red when he spreads your legs as far as they can go and just stares at your sex.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He rasps and you shiver.

He looks up and meets your gaze in the mirror, making to take his leather jacket off.

“‘M gonna fuck you with my fingers, then I’m actually gonna fuck you. Sounds good?”

“Amazing.” You squeak.

He presses his hand on your lower back to keep you anchored to the marble counter, while the other slips a finger in till he reaches the knuckle.

Your jaw drops in a silent moan, the slight stretch of it hurts for a moment, but your body soon adjusts to it, because he draws it out, no wonder noticing how it glistens in the dim lighting.

Then, he thrusts it back in, over and over and over again until a second one finds its place next to it.

The sounds that escape your cunt are disgusting, and you cross your arms to bury your head in them.

You’ve never felt pleasure like this before, and when he curls his fingers just right, you all but wail.

“Found it.”

He abuses your g-spot with a certain kind of cruelty, and an arm slips out from under you to scratch at the surface of the counter. Of course you don’t leave any marks, but the bluntness of your nails make it a makeshift anchor to this earth.

“Just listen to you.” He huffs. “She’s so sloppy.”

“Don’t – don’t say that.” You whine in humiliation.

“Why not?” There’s amusement in his voice, and you hate how it makes another of arousal leak around his digits.

“‘Cause that’s dirty.”

Jimin laughs. He actually fucking laughs and all you can think about is crawling into a hole forever.

“There’s a lot about me that’s dirty, sweetheart.”

You shake at the nickname, and he notices.

“Oh? You like it when I call you that?”

The condescension in his voice pushes you closer to the edge, and you can feel that familiar knot form in your stomach, the one you’re only able to create by yourself.

You clench around him and he gawffs.

“It seems like I’m not the only one that’s dirty.” He remarks. “What else should I call you?” He acts like he’s thinking as he twists his wrist into you without mercy, your legs shake.

There’s tears threatening to stream down your face.

“Hm. What about babe, or baby? Oh! Better yet, how about darling? Hm? Would you like that darling?”

Hearing him call you such sweet names does something to you, because before you know it, you’re catapulted over the edge. You spasm around him, and he just hums.

“There you go, good girl. That’s it.”

You shake as you come down from your high, and there are hands stroking the outside of your thighs, up your hips, and back down again.

Your eyes flutter open from where they squeezed themselves shut to find he’s already looking at you. His gaze is dripping in dark black molasses sticky with lust and want.

“Can we keep going, or are you at your limit?” Jimin checks in ever so gently.

It makes you feel good knowing that he likes to make sure you know you’re still in control, and despite just having orgasmed, you find yourself painstakingly empty.

“‘M really good.” You slur, and a proud smile takes over his face.

He fumbles with the back of his jeans, and retrieves his wallet where he pulls out a condom from it. You eye it warily.

“I just put it in there yesterday, I promise.”

He makes work of his jeans, and you notice that he’s so so hard, and you almost feel bad for the poor man. Almost being the keyword, because when he releases himself from the confines of his boxers, you gape.

He’s averagely long, maybe even a little moreso, but god, is he thick.

He catches you staring and winks.

“Think you can take it?” He pokes and you huff. “Of course I can.”

He raises a brow at you, but rolls the condom on in a tortuously slow pace.

“Hurry up.” You whine, and he swats your ass.

“Be patient.” He chides with a hiss, but you’re still reeling from the sting of the slap to even comprehend what he just said.

Jimin settles a hand on your shoulder, the other helping him line himself up to your sopping wet entrance.

“Ready?”

“Mhm.”

You both watch each other as he splits you open on his cock, and his head falls back as he groans through his clenched teeth.

“Oh!” You quiver on his length, reaching back to grab one of his hands and breathing out a sigh of relief when he meets you halfway.

He’s twitching inside of you, and you appreciate the few moments to gather your bearings.

“Move, please.” You mewl, and he doesn’t hesitate to listen to you.

Jimin drags himself out, breaking your eye contact to look down at where you’re wrapped around him. You’re so wet, the velvet of your gummy walls are making him feel a little faint.

Then, he thrusts back in until his hips are to your ass, and then he repeats, just for a few slow moments before picking up the pace.

The hand on shoulder pulls you down to meet his thrusts, and you cry out.

“Shit, Jimin!”

“I know, I know – Fuck, you feel so good.”

His plowing is brutal, the tip of his cock spearing and bullying your g-spot with a pace that you can’t quite keep up with.

He releases your shoulder to grab each arm to help his leverage, and your eyes roll into the back of your head. You’re sure you’re drooling, but you can’t find much shame in it because it feels so good.

You know that Jimin has ruined you for anybody else, mind, body, and soul, and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to escape him now.

His grunts and groans are guttural, and you know he’s close. You encourage him by clenching around him.

“God – what happened to the shy girl I met in the living room, huh?” He pants. “All I see now a cock hungry slut.”

You let out a surprised moan at his words.

“Oh, yeah? You like when I call you that? Like when I let you know exactly what you look like?”

“Y-yes.” Is your garbled reply.

“Aw… is my baby too cock drunk to even respond?” Jimin tuts meanly. “That’s okay, because I’ve got you, right?”

He’s giving you whiplash with the mix of his words, and you miss the way he calls you his baby.

“Oh, shit I’m close.” He announces. “You gonna let me cum in this tight little cunt of yours?”

“Mhm! Mhm! Gonna –” You hiccup. “Gonna let you do whatever you want.

That seems to soothe something possessive inside of him because he finally cums, and the pulsing of him against that spongy spot inside of you grows to be too much, because you follow right behind him.

It’s quiet in the bathroom as you both stop to catch your breaths, but he pulls out after a few moments of silence, tying up the condom and tossing it into the trashcan next to the toilet without a care.

“You okay?” He asks as he makes to pull up his jeans, and you’re kind of just… stunned.

Is that it?

“Uh… yeah, I’m alright.” You try not to let the disappointment show on your face as you reach down and tug your pants on as well.

Your arms ache from the strange position they were forced into, as well as your stomach from where it had been digging into the ledge of the counter.

“Good.” Gently pushes you out the way so he can wash his hands.

You just stare at him flabbergasted, kind of at a complete loss at what to say.

Do you ask what you are now? Did this mean anything? Were you just another hookup? Were you –

You’re cut off by soft lips meeting yours, and your stomach flutters something pleasant.

Maybe he did like you back and this was a complete misunderstanding, maybe he –

“Call me if you’d like to have some fun again, yeah?”

He speaks against your mouth.

Somehow he’s managed to scribble down his number and hand it to you, which you take somewhat blindly.

He’s already out of the door before you can blink, sending you a cheeky wave as he disappears into the crowd once more.

Your experience with him already feels like a dream when one of your friends drapes themselves over you.

“Finally found you!” She says with a giggle. “Where were you? Me and Sana have been looking everywhere.”

You cringe as you remember your duty, but before you can respond, her nose scrunches up.

“God you stink. Did you have sex?” She asks in disgust.

“No.” You say with a few blinks. “It’s probably because of the party.”

“Oh… okay.” She giggles.

You’re ashamed to say you’ve met up with him a few times after that, finally having the courage to give him a call after a particularly hard day of finals.

He sure did fuck the stress out of you.

This wasn’t how you imagined yourself finding your way into his world, but if sex was the only way you could have him then so be it.

But that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

He still met up with other girls, still blew you off, still kept you as a secret from his friends. You were just another notch on his bedpost, and it made you almost sick to think about.

Time spent with him after sex was just… confusing.

Someday’s he would allow you to stay over afterwards, maybe even asking you to watch a movie with him, or sometimes he would talk around you leaving until you eventually caught the hint.

It was such a push and pull relationship, and you had no idea what all of this was for.

Were you friends? Acquaintances? Fuck buddies? Friends with benefits?

You had no idea what you were or who he wanted to mean to you, but it was slowly ripping you apart.

He had invited you to another party after a particularly long session, and maybe it was just the sleepiness in him talking, but it almost sounded as if he wanted you to be there.

He nuzzles his face into your shoulder, the black of his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat.

You nibble on your lip, tugging the duvet up to cover your bare breasts.

The tips of his fingers graze your arm gently even though his eyes were closed, and goosebumps rose under his ministrations.

It was moments like these that you grew fond of because of how few and far in between they were, when Jimin allows that vulnerable side of his to peek through. You found him beautiful.

You couldn’t stop staring at him, even when the muscles in your neck protested the awkward angle.

You could count every freckle on his cheek, every eyelash he had, and you had to bite back a smile at the sight of his crooked front tooth peeking out through his swollen plump lips.

“Mm.” He groans, and forces himself to crack an eye open.

Your eyes flutter in embarrassment at almost being caught, but he seems none the wiser.

“(y/n).” Jimin mumbles. You find a way to wind your arm around his neck, settling a hand in his hair, rolling the ends of the damp strands between your fingers.

“Come to this party ‘m throwing.” Jimin slurs.

You finally allow yourself to smile then. “Why? I’d like to think last time was a bit of a mess.” You tease. He just grumbles. “Never feels like a mess when I’m with you.”

Your smile quickly falls.

It was crowded once again, but you felt a sort of superiority at your fucked up relationship with him.

You went searching around for him; maybe you guys could actually talk this time! Maybe share a beer and talk about your favorite music!

Your body thrummed with all the different types of things you could do when you found him, but not in the way you wanted.

He had another girl pushed up against the wall, just like he had you in the bathroom on that fateful day.

‘But he wasn’t kissing her how he had kissed you’ You tried to reason with yourself, even as tears began to form in your eyes.

This was embarrassing. So fucking embarrassing.

You were so much better than this. You were a smart girl, you had things going for you, your life shouldnt revolve around a man who could not give any less of a fuck about you.

You find yourself stumbling away - backwards might you add - and you accidentally bump into someone, their liquor spilling over and down the back of your shirt.

You yelp, and it’s loud enough to catch Jimin’s attention, but you don’t notice because of how fast you spin around to face the person.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry!”

“Sorry, sorry!”

You and the stranger speak at the same time, and you look up to find that he was quite… handsome.

He was tall, broad shouldered and obviously thick under that sweatervest he was wearing - which fuck it was too hot for that, even for you - and dimples settled into his cheeks and glasses that were raised high on his face, perched on his nose.

“No, no!” You wave away his apology nervously. “It’s fine! It’s my fault, I didn’t see where I was looking!”

“I shouldn’t have been carrying so many open drinks at the same time when I knew how crowded this place was, so it’s okay.”

You just watch as a genuine smile seems to spread on his face.

“How about this: we're both at fault, and we're sorry. Does that sound good?”

You find yourself nodding with a small smile. “Yeah… that sounds good.”

He stares at you, and you stare back, but then your eyes fall on a dark stain on his vest. His eyes seem to follow your gaze because he tries to wave you away this time.

“Hey, listen, it’s fine, it happens all the time! I’d say you took the brunt of it. How about you come with me, and I’ll get you a new shirt?”

Going with a guy that you’ve never met before to “get a new shirt” doesn’t seem like a good idea, but the image of Jimin plastered to that girl is all but tattooed on the back of your eyelids.

“Okay, yeah.”

The man’s smile gets bigger, but then falls as his gaze flickers to something behind you. Your brows furrow in concern, but before you can turn around, an arm slides itself around your waist.

“I think I’ve got it from here. Thanks man.”

You’re surprised to see Jimin next to you all but glaring at the tall man’s face, and there’s a prickle of irritation in your gut. The weight of his arm on you feels like a hot iron with the way it burns, and you step out of his grip just slightly.

The guy seems to notice, because his gaze narrows right back at him.

“Is this guy bothering you?” He asks.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the dog fight that might happen before you, and you just sigh.

“No, it’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure…” You let your voice die out, and the guy seems to make the connection.

“Namjoon. Kim Namjoon.”

You grin slightly. “(y/n).”

“Great. Bye, Kim Namjoon. Thanks for ruining her shirt.”

Jimin tugs you along behind him, and he’s silent the whole way to his room, and you’re half tempted to snatch yourself from his grip.

“What’s your problem?” You ask once you’re finally safe behind closed doors.

“What do you mean what’s my problem?” Jimin’s voice is hiding a thin layer of anger that you can hear clearly.

“You were such an asshole to him! And he didn’t “ruin” my shirt by the way. It’s just beer. It’ll get out.”

“That doesn’t matter. You were about to fuck off and go with some guy you didn’t even know!” He throws his hands up in the air like it’s obvious.

“Okay? It’s my business on who I go and “fuck off” with. The guy looked nice, so I trusted him.”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah, so you just trust any guy that asks you to leave with him? It’s so obvious he wanted to fuck you, and you were just going to do it with a smile on your face.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious right now.” You breathe.

“Very.” He says flatly.

You encroach in his space, getting in his face and settling him with a glare.

“I came to look for you at a fucking party you invited me to, and then I find you with your tongue down some random girl’s throat.” You sneer. “So forgive me if I’m a little peeved that you’re bothered by who I might go fuck.”

Jimin doesn’t know why he’s so bothered. ‘Doesn’t know why seeing you laughing and smiling with that guy makes something in his gut twist in disgust.

“I don’t like him.”

You lean your face away from his.

“That’s what you’ve taken away from this.” You let out an incredulous laugh, and the amusement behind your eyes is fake.

“I…” You shake your head. “I can’t believe this.”

“You are not who I thought you were.” Something in you wilts. “You are a grade A asshole, Park Jimin.” You spit his name like it’s a slur, and something inside him dies.

“What?” It’s his turn to scoff. “Don’t tell me you like me or something?” He knows he’s being mean, but he’s hurt, and he feels as though he has nothing else left.

“Excuse me?” You look like a kid who got caught with their hand in the cookie jar. Guilty.

There’s a sickening pleasure that takes root in his heart knowing that you want him like that.

“You’re doing this whole weird, possessive girlfriend thing.” It’s his turn to step in your space.

“Well, sorry to say, but were just fuck buddies. I don’t want to be with you. All I want you for is a booty call, nothing more, nothing less.”

His words are like a knife to your heart and you deflate.

The tears burning behind your eyes finally fall, and your hand twitches at your side.

“I fucking hate you.” Is all you can say.

You push him out your way and he lets you, watches as you leave.

‘Good’ He thinks.

He tries to convince himself that the quicker he cuts this thing off, the easier things will get, because he doesn’t like you like that.

Right?

Right.

Your head was pounding by the time you had found your way back to your dorm, your shaking hands made it near impossible to get the key in the lock, but you managed it.

You hadn’t expected Sana to be there, bed engulfed by books and different studying utensils.

“Hey.” She greets mindlessly, flicking through papers in a certain folder before huffing and closing it when she clearly doesn’t find what she needs.

Your grip on your keys grows weak and they clatter to the floor, and she looks up in alarm, just as you take in a loud, pitiful sniffle.

“Oh, (y/n).”

She scrambles to get up and you fall forward, trusting her to catch you, and she does, even if she’s extremely confused.

You’re sobbing into her shirt, and your chest twists and everything just hurts.

Jimin’s words feel like a slap in your face, and your heart burns like you had actually been slapped. You would have preferred that if you were going to be honest.

“(y/n), please. You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“I liked him.” You sob. “I liked him so much, and, and, and –” You’re close to hyperventilating at this point, and Sana just seems to grow more anxious, because she pulls away from you and cups your cheeks.

“You need to breathe for me.” She says with a nervous albeit reassuring smile.

You attempt to take a deep breath.

“Good, that’s good, just keep trying.”

Eventually, your breathing evens out, and she leads you over to your twin bed, seeing as hers is a bit of an organized mess right now.

“Now, can you finally explain to me what happened?”

Your hands shake as you make to pick at your cuticles, but she catches the habit before you can get to it, encasing your hands in hers.

“There’s a lot of things that you don’t know.”

“Okay…”

“But you know I like Jimin, right?”

“Mhm, like… big time.”

“Well, do you remember that party that you and your friend forced me to?”

“Mhm.”

“Well… while I was waiting for you guys to be ready to go, Jimin approached me.”

“Oh my god?” She says excitedly, but you give her a sad smile.

“Don’t get excited just yet.”

“Anyways,” You continue. “He talked to me, then invited me to… you know, sleep with him.” Your cheeks burn as Sana stares at you dumbfounded, but you keep going. “The sex was great, don’t get me wrong, but he was so distant after everything was done.”

“He gave me his number and asked me to call him if I ever wanted to hook up with him again.”

“Douche.”

“Sana.”

“Sorry not sorry.”

You laugh a bit and she grins, relieved.

“Well, I did.”

“(y/n).” She sighs, releasing one of her hands to rub at her forehead.

“I know, I know! I also know I’m gonna sound really stupid when I say that I thought he actually liked me, but he… but he said some things to me tonight that really broke my heart.”

“Before we get to that, what made you think he likes you back?” She wasn’t trying to be mean by asking the question, you knew better.

“Because there’ll be moments after we are done hooking up where he’d be super sweet. Like, sometimes he would cuddle me, or ask me to watch a movie, just things outside of the common hookup aftercare.”

“But then tonight,” You sighed. “I went to the party he invited me to, and caught him making out with some other girl, and so I went to leave but then I bumped into this guy.” You smile a bit at the memory.

“His name is Kim Namjoon, and he was super sweet – spilled a fuckton of beer on my shirt though.”

“So that’s why you smell like that.”

“Yep.” You laugh. “And then Jimin came up and acted all… jealous and possessive and shit. Took me up to his room, we argued, he accused me of liking him and laughed in my face and called me just his fuck buddy after I didn’t deny that I did.”

You look up to find Sana seething.

“I’m going to call Taehyung.”

Taehyung was one of Jimin’s best friends, and he was currently groveling at Sana’s feet trying to be with her. Though she likes him, she wants to make him work for it just to see if he’ll lose interest, even though you know it’d kill her if he actually did.

“Why?”

“To break it off with him in solidarity.”

“What?!” You asked incredulously. “No, absolutely not. Taehyung is a good guy. You don’t need to do that for me.”

She regards you with a raised brow.

“Are you sure?”

You find yourself nodding. “Kinda need some roomie time right now.” Your eyes fall to her studying materials. “But if you’re too busy, I –”

“Nope. Let’s go.”

You laugh joyously as she begins to put her things away, and you make for the small fridge in your room where your sweet treats are held.

Maybe things are going to be okay.

The next week is like a living hell.

You’ve basically made it your life’s mission to avoid Jimin as much as possible. You had already blocked him after a few encouraging words from Sana.

She still ended up calling Taehyung in the end, putting him in the dog house until his friend got his shit together. You could almost hear his pout as he begged her not to. She hung up on him.

The weather was nice, with early spring wandering around, you could finally start to wear flowier clothing, as well as study outside again.

Your head is so immersed in your book that you don’t see someone approach your table until a finger gently breaches your line of vision and taps the page.

You startle a bit and look up, and you're greeted by Namjoon’s sheepish face.

“Sorry, I didn’t know another way to get your attention, you looked really focused.”

“That’s sweet, but it’s okay. You could’ve interrupted me.” He gestures to the seat across from yours. “Can I sit?”

“Yeah, yeah! Go ahead!” You begin clearing things out of his way, and he smiles gratefully.

“I didn’t see you again after you left.” With that guy, is what’s unspoken, but you caught it anyways. “Yeah… uh – something came up, so I had to leave early.

His mouth forms an ‘o’ shape and he nods. “I see.”

“Yeah.” You grimace.

“Well I –” Namjoon swallows nervously. “I wasn’t able to tell you, but I think you’re beautiful.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh.” You breathe in surprise, and the man visibly deflates. “Unless that guy was your boyfriend, then I’m sorry! Oh, God, I should have asked first.”

“No, no! He’s not my boyfriend.” You reassure him. “‘M surprised, is all; and very, very flattered.”

You know you should reject his advances, but you’re hurt, and he’s just… so sweet. A complete contrast to Jimin, and you think he’s the change of pace that you needed.

“I think you’re handsome if that makes you feel any better.” The words feel wrong coming out of your mouth, but you grin nonetheless when his cheeks warm an admirable red.

“I…” You meet each other's eyes, and look down at the same time, laughing shyly.

Maybe Namjoon could be good for you.

“You look pathetic, man.” Taehyung speaks through a mouthful of instant ramen disgustingly.

Jimin hits him upside the back of his head, and the poor boy winces.

“Ow!”

“Don’t forget you’re in the dog house too, idiot.” Jungkook mumbles from his side of the table.

“So what you’re telling me is that you want me to beat your ass?”

“I’m just saying.” He shrugs. “Hyung fucked up, and now you’re being punished by association. No (y/n) means no Sana.”

Jungkook’s right.

Ever since that night, Jimin’s desperately been trying to forget about you, about how hurt you looked. He almost feels sick thinking about it.

He admits that he could have handled that situation a lot better, but it was like something had taken over him. As soon as he’d seen you with Namjoon, and how willing you looked, something inside him just… snapped.

“I’m just waiting for hyung to admit that he was jealous and go and fix it.” Taehyung says simply. “It’s obvious that he’s in love with her, and I have no idea why he won’t just go and tell her.”

“I’m not -” Jimin hissed, “In love with her.”

“Yeah man, you are.”

Jimin’s eyes narrowed, but his attention was stolen by your laugh.

You were laughing because of him.

You looked so sickeningly demure talking to him, wringing your fingers together and kicking out your legs as a nervous tick. You usually only ever did that when you were with him.

Jimin liked the effect that he had on you.

He liked how your eyelashes fluttered when he complimented you, how you held on to him when he fucked you, how you kissed him back like you meant it. Sure, your body was nice, but so was your personality.

You were kind, studious, selfless, and he wasn’t sure what drew you to him the first night he had met you.

He thought that your hidden affections were all for him, but it proves that he was mistaken. That’s fine. You could be with anybody that you wanted to.

‘Just not him’ Is supplied unhelpfully.

The thought shouldn’t bother him as much as it does.

It’s just… Jimin doesn’t do the whole commitment thing. The last time he had a partner, it blew up in his face, so he just finds that casual one night stands was just the easier way to go.

But things between you and him were never casual to begin with, huh?

“Listen,” Taehyung starts once more, and points his chopsticks at Jungkook. “Jimin-hyung, he'll realize what he wants when it’s too late. Girls like (y/n) don’t come around as often as they should.” Then, he dives back into his noodles.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrowed. Were they right?

He turns his head to look at them. “Was it ever casual between me and her?” He can’t help but ask.

“No.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Wow, okay.”

“I mean, you let her sleep in your bed, hyung.” Jungkook basically scoffs. “You’ve never let any of your hookups stay the night, or cuddle with you; yet somehow she’s different.”

Different.

That was the key word here.

You were different.

The last few weeks with Namjoon have been nice.

The man was smart, and kind, and overall just a sweet, gentle giant that deserved everything in the world; but you knew deep down in your heart that you couldn’t be the one to give him that.

You saw it in the way that he looked at you, starry-eyed on his worst day, and heart-eyed the best. You can’t find it within yourself to feel flattered by it anymore, because you know that you don’t deserve it.

You don’t deserve his chivalry, his affection, and maybe - hopefully not - his love.

You’re ashamed to say that this whole rebound business blew up in your face like you went ahead and personally strapped the bomb to yourself.

You didn’t know how to tell him you didn’t like him like that, just how you had no idea how to tell Jimin you loved him after months of sleeping with him; exactly how that fateful night you said yes instead of no.

The words on the pages in front of you bled together like a big blob of ink, and Namjoon’s large foot snuck over to yours under the table and trapped it playfully.

You tried not to allow the grin you gave him to look like a grimace, even as he acted like he was reading as well. You were sure both of your reasons were entirely different.

You needed to put a stop to this, you needed to tell him you didn’t see him that way and you just wanted to be friends.

“Hey, Namjoon –”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course.”

Fuck.

The look that Namjoon gave you was beaming, and you felt tears sting at the back of your eyelids.

You said yes to a date like the stupid, idiotic, selfish, terrible person you are.

Namjoon had offered to walk you back to your dorm after your study session was over, but you couldn’t look at him anymore, the guilt crawling around in your stomach becoming something almost too much to handle.

“No thanks, Nammy.”

“Okay.” He pouts a bit. “But you be safe, alright?”

For the first time today, you gave him a true smile. “I will!”

The walk back to your dorm was slow, and heavy hearted, and you were so lost in your head, you couldn’t see that you were about to walk into someone until their hand shot out and caught you.

“Oh!” You squeaked, your head shooting up.

Your eyes widened at a very disgruntled looking Jimin.

He didn’t look as put together as he used to; his black mullet ruffled out of place and his black leather jacket rather wrinkly.

“(y/n).” He spoke.

It had felt like forever since you heard his voice, and it took you everything in your power to not shut your eyes and bask in it.

You swallowed heavily. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“But I do.”

“That’s not how this works.”

“(y/n) please.”

You stare at him before huffing and crossing your arms. “Fine.”

“Thank you.” He breathes, and you finally notice how close you are, because you stumble back to finally put some space in between the two of you. If Jimin’s hurt by the action, he doesn’t show it.

You hate how much that bothers you.

“I fucked up.”

“No.” You instantly put a hand out to stop him. “You don’t get to say that to me.”

“What?”

“You started this whole thing, Jimin! I… I admit that I do like you, and I’ve liked you for a long time, but you don’t get to be the one to say you “fucked up” and regret everything you did.”

“Why not?” He asks, almost offended.

“Because you’ll never change!”

Jimin looks taken aback by your outburst.

“You’ll tell me you’re sorry, we’ll fuck, and then it’ll be this process all over again. You don’t get to just do that! I need full commitment, and that’s not something you’re able to give me.”

“Plus,” You continue, taking in a deep breath. “I’m seeing someone right now.”

Jimin fucking snorts.

“Don’t tell me you have a date with the Namkim guy.”

“It’s Namjoon, and yes, I am. He’s nice.”

“Oh, is that it? He’s just nice?”

“And… and he’s smart too!” You exclaim almost petulantly. “He gives me flowers and tells me how much he likes me all the time, unlike you, who’s so emotionally constipated that not even laxatives would be able to help you!”

“Wha –” Jimin laughs in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! I’m gonna go on a date with a guy who actually likes me!”

You straighten your tote bag on your shoulder and brace yourself, straightening your posture.

“Now if you excuse me, I have a date to plan for, and homework to do.”

“What? (y/n)! Come back, I’m sorry!”

“No!”

You’re not going to lie and say you didn’t replay your entire interaction with Jimin for the rest of the week.

There was something about talking to him that gave you the energy to get through class, the haunting realization that maybe he was worth a damn.

Wondering what would have happened if you had allowed him to apologize instead of cutting him off, of accepting his apology and allowing yourself to be with him in that way.

But you know, you know that if you were to go back to your old routine with him, it’d kill you. It’d kill you to watch him flirt with other people, or watch him take them home.

You fiddled with the strap of your dress, staring at yourself in the mirror and feeling awkward at the fact that the material only looked good if you didn’t wear a bra.

You were going to a restaurant with Namjoon; it was a nice, original first date idea. You’d talk over food, and get along just fine!

Namjoon was a nice guy. He was sweet, and he wouldn’t try to fuck you on the first date.

Oh, God, would he?

You really hope not.

“Damn girl.” Sana whistles from her spot on her bed. “You look sexy! You’re gonna blow that nerd’s socks off!”

“Sana.” You warned. “Be nice! He’s not a nerd. He’s just studious.”

“Sure. Every Philosophy major is studious.” She giggles to herself.

“Oh! Do you think he’s a virgin?!”

“Sana!” This time it’s a whine, but your arguing is interrupted by a couple knocks on the door.

“Oh, God, it’s him!” You whisper in a panic.

You continue to mess with the front of your dress, pulling the hem up at the top to try and hide as much boobage as possible.

“Stop!” Your roommate hisses. “You look great!”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! Now go!”

You waddle over to the door and pull it open, your heart melting at the sight of a good looking Namjoon in front of you.

His hair was tastefully rumpled, a button up shirt tucked into a pair of slacks that hugged his thighs deliciously.

Wow, you were really hogging this man for yourself.

There was another stab of guilt when his eyes fell on your figure and he swallowed, his cheeks painting themselves an adorable pink.

“W – wow, (y/n). You look amazing.”

“Thanks.” You say shyly. “Should we go?”

“Oh! Of course, of course!”

He offers you his arm and you take it.

The conversation between the two of you was kept light, even as you got into the Uber that he had paid for.

“I uh – I don’t have my license.” Namjoon had sheepishly admitted to you one day.

He usually rode his bike to places, so you were surprised to see that he had splurged for today.

Shame burns in your gut once again.

(y/n): 0, Guilt and shame: the winner.

The restaurant was nice as you were led to your table, and very quiet.

You shuffled around in your seat, sheepishly ordering water as Namjoon looked over the menu.

“I’m so happy we're doing this.” Namjoon says after you get your drinks, and you sip on the freezing tap water.

“Yeah…” You speak after a few hefty gulps of your drink.

“I meant it when I said you looked gorgeous tonight.”

“Ah…” You fluster. “Where did all this confidence come from?”

“It comes from me wanting to ask you a question that you’ll answer truthfully.”

Instantly your heart falls into your ass, because you know exactly what’s coming.

“I might be a bit of a stick in the mud, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind, (y/n).”

“I can see that you haven’t really been in any of… whatever we have going on. And I’m not even going to lie, I don’t even think we’ve had anything to begin with.”

“What gave it away?” You ask with a grimace. “That.”

“That?”

“That thing you do with your face when you lie.”

You blink at him in surprise.

“Oh.”

“And you’ve done it every single time I’ve tried to flirt or compliment you. I’m surprised you even agreed to go out with me.”

“I…” You feel like you’re going to throw up. “I swear I didn’t mean to lead you on! There’s just been this thing, and I can’t tell you what it is –”

“Yes you can.”

“Pardon?” You ask in surprise.

“You know exactly why you can’t commit fully to this.”

“I…” You deflate in your seat, fiddling with the napkin. “You’re right.”

“It’s that guy, right? The one from the party?”

Namjoon’s words aren’t hurt, judgemental, or angry, they’re just factual. Like how he gets when he breaks down a piece of difficult text in one of his ancient little books he likes to read.

“I should start from the beginning shouldn’t I?”

“We’ve got all night.”

So you do. You start from that night at the party, over how you’ve felt these last few weeks, even as the food had come and gone, you two hadn’t stopped talking.

You had refused to let him pay at the end of the night, and you literally almost had to fight him over splitting the bill.

“This was supposed to be a date.” He speaks with a pout, and you just laugh.

You two worked well as friends, because you nudged his foot. “Yah! We can go on another date soon, okay?”

He just laughs with a shake of his head.

When you guys leave, you offer to pay for your shared Uber when you spot someone you weren’t expecting.

Jimin’s in the parking lot, leaning against his car and looking around. When his gaze lands on you, his slouched position straightens, and your heart stutters in your chest.

“This guy is like the fucking boogeyman.” You murmur, and Namjoon laughs once more.

“I uh… may have sort of called him here.”

Your head whips around and you stare at him in betrayal. “What?!”

“Listen. You and him have some shit to work out, and - bless your heart - we both know you don’t have a backbone, so I think it would be better if you both fixed this, or ended it for good.”

You can’t help but just stare at him. “Where did you even get his number?”

“Taehyung. The poor man’s been practically begging me to leave you alone and let Jimin fix this because he’s been sexiled.”

You sigh, glancing over at a waiting Jimin who’s watching you hopefully.

“You won’t be here for solidarity, will you?”

“For both our sakes, I think you know the answer to that.”

You swallow, turning your attention back to him. “I really am sorry about how everything went down between us. You’re a great guy, and I’m sure one day another person will be able to see that. I’m sorry it’s not me.”

He shrugs his shoulders. “It’s alright, I need to worry about my studies anyways.”

You smile sadly at him, and he just chuckles and shakes his head, pulling you into his warm embrace.

“I mean it (y/n),” He starts when you separate, “It’s okay, but you need to go, because Jimin looks like he’s about to throttle me, and I’m not really interested in fighting someone tonight. I have a test in the morning.”

Your smile is a little less sad this time, and he waves you off.

The walk to Jimin feels like a walk to doom; it’s silent, tense, and you’re unsure about where you’ll end up at the end of the night.

“Hi.” You breathe awkwardly. You grasp onto your clutch purse like a lifeline.

“Hey.”

“Uh…” You begin, but Jimin just sighs, opening the passenger door, and gesturing for you to get in. “We need to talk.”

Your shoulders deflate. “Alright.”

Even though he said you needed to talk, the car ride is silent, even as you watch yourself being pulled into a parking lot, the man stopping and turning his car off.

“So, are you going to let me speak this time, or are you just going to cut me off again?”

You scowl. “Is that really how you want to start this conversation?”

“No, no, fuck I’m sorry. I’m already fucking it up.” His hands grip the steering wheel, twisting them around nervously.

“I’m not used to this.”

“Used to what?”

“Dating, feelings, that kind of thing. And I thought that if I hurt you, and never had to see you again, that those things would just go away, but they didn’t.”

He slumps back in his seat, casting his gaze out the window before turning his attention towards you.

“When I saw you with him –”

“Namjoon.”

“Yes,” He all but hisses, “With Namjoon, I felt sick to my stomach. Like something was wrong, like he was taking something from me.”

“But I was never yours to begin with.”

“Yeah,” He sighs. “I know, and that’s the issue.”

“You were right about me being an asshole, because I was. I projected all of my weird, little possessive feelings onto you and totally flipped out when I should have just talked to you.”

“But instead I pushed you away, said things I didn’t mean, and you still went with that guy, and I felt horrible.” Jimin hesitantly reaches out a hand – an olive branch of sorts – and waits for you to take it.

He hopes you take it.

You look at him and back down to his hand, before lifting yours and intertwining your fingers.

“What are you trying to tell me, Jimin? Because… because if we do this friends-with-benefits bullshit again, I think it’ll actually kill me.”

“I don’t think I could handle that even if I tried.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that seeing you with the other people that aren't me makes me feel sick to my stomach, and I’d rather have you all to myself like the nasty, greedy bastard I am.”

“Like a boyfriend.”

Jimin finally smiles.

That beautiful, eye closing smile that makes your heart skip a beat too many.

“Yeah, (y/n), like a boyfriend.”

“Does that make me your girlfriend?”

“I would sure hope so.”

You grin as well, happiness painting over your features as you watch him.

“What does this mean for us now?” He leans forward into your space, and this time you don’t move back, just gazing up at him with wide, curious eyes. “This means that you’ll hopefully let me kiss you.”

“Well lucky for you, I’m feeling nice tonight.”

He snorts and rolls his eyes, yet connects your lips together. Your eyelids flutter shut.

Euphoria. That’s the only feeling you could describe after feeling the plushness of his mouth after so long. It’s felt like centuries since you’ve touched him, and every nerve in your body lights aflame.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, and his hands cup your jaw, tugging you to him over the center console.

“I can’t go that far.” You pant with a chuckle, and he huffs a small smile.

“Backseat?”

“Please don’t tell me you want to have makeup sex in the backseat of your car in the middle of the park.”

“You want to have makeup sex?” His eyes glimmer. It’s your turn to snort. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Then no, we're absolutely not doing that here.”

“Then let’s get out of here.”

“Yes ma’am.”

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