#✧*∙ ❛ THERE’S ALWAYS SOMETHING / ( ch. study )

[simplygojo]

The Devil He Made Me - Ch. 6

Authors Note: Finally got this chapter out...I hope y'all enjoy bc shit is about to get real as fuck. As always, please let me know your thoughts by commenting or sending me a message, I appreciate any and lal feedback.oh and don't forget, I LOVE Y'ALL <3

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f/reader

Series Summary : After being found by Gojo and his first year students in a sticky situation, y/n joins Jujutsu High under the close supervision of Gojo. As time passes, the two of you become close, with a strong unspoken bond forming as you work together. Although, there is something dark looming over the situation, and those at Jujutsu High are determined to get to the bottom of it, before it is too late.

Chapter Summary : After battling with multiple special grade curses, y/n spends some time in the hospital so Shoko can run some tests to get to the bottom of the burning question: what was that cursed energy? With all of these thoughts swirling around y/n's head, she decides to discuss the incident with Gojo.

Taglist: @mawhoreagaa; @peqch-pie; @blue-serendipity; @simplyyyuji; @starrnai; @sorcerersseestars; @n1vi; @angryglitterperfection; @krak-jj; @coweringbear; @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni; @cococola-cocaine; If you'd like to be added to the taglist, leave a comment to let me know :)

Word Count : 5.5k

Warnings : mention of injuries, swearing, some tensions, mention of d*eath...

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The familiar scent of antiseptic filled your nose as you slowly blinked your eyes open. The soft whirring and sporadic beeping of machines and the gentle hum of the infirmary's lights gradually came into focus. It took a moment for you to remember where you were—Jujutsu High, the infirmary. You tried to sit up, but a deep ache in your muscles pulled you back down, reminding you of the battle just days before.

You had been unconscious for just over a day, but the soreness that clung to your body was a fading echo of what it had been. Shoko had healed most of your injuries, and while your body still felt heavy, you were no longer in a significant amount of pain.

A subtle shifting caught your attention, and you turned your head to see Gojo sitting at your bedside.

His long legs were stretched out lazily in front of him, his chair tipped back on two legs in that effortlessly casual way only he could pull off. A playful smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he noticed you stirring.

He wore an off-white button-up shirt, simple and unassuming, and somehow looked better on him than it had any right to. The way it fit him—just snug enough at the shoulders, but loose enough to give him that carefree look to match his attitude.

And then there are those sunglasses, the ones that should be ridiculous indoors, yet on him, they work—like a signature mark of his unbothered confidence. Even with half of his face hidden behind those tinted lenses, you can still see his piercing blue eyes.

"Hey there, Sleeping Beauty," he greeted, his voice smooth and teasing, eyes glinting behind his sunglasses. "I was starting to think you'd be out for another day. But I guess you're a bit too stubborn for that, huh?"

You managed a weak laugh, the dryness in your throat making it raspy. Gojo tilted his head—as though studying your face.

"You know," he began, his grin widening, "even unconscious, you’re still causing me all kinds of trouble. What am I going to do with you?"

His teasing tone, paired with the playful glint in his eyes, pulled another laugh from you, this one a bit stronger, though your body still felt heavy. Gojo straightened, his chair landing back on all four legs with a soft thud, before he placed a familiar white pastry box on your lap.

"I brought you a cookie," he said, and as your eyes focused, you recognized the familiar logo from the last pastry box he had got you about a week ago.

“Hmmm, am I having deja vu?” You said teasingly, although your voice was weak.

Propping yourself up with a few pillows, you opened the box to reveal the single chocolate chip cookie—just like the one he'd given you before. "Thought you might want something sweet when you woke up."

His expression softened as he studied your face, his bright blue eyes watching you carefully.

You didn’t even try to stifle the grin that slowly crept onto your face. “You know, you’ve never even asked me if I like sweets.” You teased, a warm feeling growing in your chest.

Gojo rolled his eyes, “These sweets are too good not to like, y/n.” He argued in response, to which you gave him a stern look, and he sighed dramatically. “Fine. Do you like sweets?” He said reluctantly, and you smiled wider in response to his obvious annoyance.

“Yes, I do…they’re my favourite.” You said, picking up the cookie and taking a bite. “This is too good not to like…wow.” You said, covering your mouth, as it was still full with cookie.

Gojo laughed, “I am always right.” There was something different about the way he looked at you now—something gentler than before, more concerned.

You decided to finally ask the burning question, “Gojo, what… happened?”

His expression shifted, the playful mask slipping just enough for you to catch a glimpse of the worry underneath. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his tosseled white hair as he sighed.

"You don't remember?" His tone was light, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that made your stomach twist. “You and the students were fighting that special-grade curse, remember? You… well, things got a little out of hand.”

The memories started trickling back, one by one. The battlefield, the pressure of cursed energy crushing you from every side. You remembered fighting off duplicates of the curse—one after another—until something snapped. A rush of power unlike anything you'd ever felt before surged through you, dark and overwhelming. The blue energy you had trained so hard to control had been replaced by something else, something foreign and dark.

“Oh, yeah I remember now…Sorry, I’m a little dazed,” you whispered, the weight of the realization hitting you like a truck. “How were there that many special-grade curses there? I thought you said the mission was just one special grade?”

Gojo leaned back in his chair, his arms crossing over his chest as he watched you closely. The playful mask he usually wore was still there, but his eyes, ever sharp and knowing, held a depth that unsettled you. “That’s the thing,” he replied, his voice softer now. “It wasn’t just one special-grade curse, it was multiple—each one a fragment of something larger. They were working in sync.”

The pit in your stomach deepened. You could recall the feeling of being surrounded, the sheer number of cursed spirits far more than you had anticipated. It was no wonder you’d been overwhelmed. “Shoko said she found something strange when she was healing you.”

You frowned, shifting slightly in the bed. “Strange? Like what?”

He hesitated for a moment, his typical lighthearted attitude shifting to a more earnest demeanour. “There’s another cursed energy inside you. Different from the normal cursed energy you’ve been using.”

The weight of his words hit you hard, and you felt your heart start to race.

Another cursed energy? How was that possible? You looked at Gojo, searching for answers, but his expression gave little away. "What does that mean for me?" You asked, your voice wavering slightly.

Gojo leaned back again, his eyes narrowing in thought. “We don’t know yet. That’s why Shoko's keeping an eye on you, and I…” He trailed off, his gaze lingering on you before looking up at the ceiling. “I’m going to be here every step of the way, whether you like it or not."

Before you could respond, the infirmary door slid open, and Shoko entered with her usual calm, unbothered air. She glanced between you and Gojo before speaking.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” she said with a small smile. “I was starting to wonder if you were going to sleep through the whole week.”

You managed a faint grin as she approached your bed. Shoko pulled out her clipboard, her eyes scanning the notes she had taken while healing you. After a moment, she looked up and met your gaze, her expression turning serious.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, her voice low. “When I was healing you, I noticed something unusual. Your cursed energy… it wasn’t just the blue-hued energy you usually produce.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Gojo had mentioned this already, but hearing it from Shoko felt different. More real.

“There’s another source of cursed energy inside you,” Shoko continued, her brow furrowing slightly. “I don’t know how or why, and I can’t see anything on the tests I’ve done, but it’s there, and it’s separate from your own cursed energy. It’s… dark.”

You stared at her, stunned. Another source of power? But how? Why now?

“What does that mean?” You asked quietly, the weight of her words pressing down on your chest.

Shoko shook her head, her expression unreadable. “I’m not sure. And we don’t know how it got there, but its foreign. We’ll have to run some more tests to figure it out. But for now, you need to be careful. That power—whatever it is—could be dangerous if you don’t learn to control it.”

Gojo gave you a reassuring smile, though there was something sharp behind his usual cocky expression. “Don’t worry Shoko. You’ll figure it out. Plus, y/n has me as her teacher, after all. You know better than anything that I am the strongest.”

His words should have comforted you, or at least made you laugh—but the uncertainty gnawed at the back of your mind.

What the hell is wrong with me?

—

You stayed in the infirmary for a few more days while Shoko ran some tests. It was all routine at first, just performing tests on your cursed energy levels, helping you heal some of those stubborn wounds with her reverse cursed technique.

As the days passed and you grew more comfortable around Shoko, your conversations took on a lighter tone. You had expected her to be more distant, but she had a subtle, dry sense of humor that made you laugh, even in your exhausted state.

On the second evening, as Shoko finished up another round of tests, she pulled a chair up beside your bed, setting her clipboard down. “You’re healing well,” she said, her usual neutral tone softened. “We’ll have you out of here soon, hopefully.”

You smiled faintly. “Thanks, Shoko. It’s been kind of nice getting to know you more.”

She raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “Don’t get too used to it. I’m not that interesting.”

You chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that. You’ve got to have some stories, being friends with Gojo and all.”

Shoko leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Oh, Gojo? Yeah, there are plenty of stories, most of which are probably better off unsaid.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Come on, I’m stuck in bed here! Give me something. How was he back then?”

She sighed in mock reluctance before a small smile spread across her face. “Alright, alright. There was one time… Well, this was back when Gojo and—” Shoko hesitated for a second, her expression darkening slightly, but she quickly recovered. “—when Gojo and his best friend were still students here. His name was Geto Suguru.”

“Geto?” you repeated, unfamiliar with the name. “I don’t think I’ve heard of him.”

Shoko’s eyes softened a little, and for a moment, there was a quiet sadness in them. “Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Suguru was… He and Gojo were like brothers. They used to be inseparable.”

You blinked, surprised. It was hard to imagine Gojo having a best friend—someone close enough to understand him on that level. “What happened to him?”

Shoko looked down for a moment, her voice becoming more sombre. “It’s… complicated. Let’s just say he took a different path. It’s not something Gojo talks about much, but they were close. Closer than anyone would think.”

There was a brief silence between the two of you, the weight of her words sinking in. You could feel the layers of history, the unspoken grief in Shoko’s tone, and it made you wonder just how much Gojo had buried beneath that playful exterior.

Shoko cleared her throat, shaking off the mood. “But, anyway. Gojo’s always been the same—cocky, infuriatingly powerful, and completely insufferable when he’s right. There was this one time he convinced Suguru and me to sneak into the teachers’ lounge at night because he wanted to prank Yaga. Nearly got us all expelled.”

You laughed softly, trying to picture a younger Gojo pulling off one of his infamous schemes. “I’m guessing it didn’t go as planned?”

“Not at all. Yaga caught us halfway through. Gojo had rigged this ridiculous trap to dump confetti on him when he opened the door, but instead, it went off on us. We were covered in glitter for days.” Shoko shook her head with an amused smile. “Suguru was so mad. I thought he was going to kill Gojo right then and there.”

You laughed at the image, imagining a flustered Gojo trying to explain himself with confetti raining down around him. It was hard to reconcile the carefree man you knew now with the version of him Shoko described—someone who had once had a deep bond with someone else, someone who had experienced loss.

“Do you think he misses him?” You asked quietly, the question escaping before you could stop yourself.

Shoko looked at you for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I think he does, in his own way. Gojo doesn’t like to talk about the things that hurt him. He hides behind that grin of his, but… yeah. I think he does.”

You nodded, feeling a pang of empathy for the man who had become such an enigmatic figure in your life. Maybe there was more to him than just the confident, teasing exterior. Maybe, beneath it all, Gojo carried his own burdens, just like the rest of them.

Shoko stood up, stretching her arms over her head. “Alright, that’s enough reminiscing for now. You rest up, and if you’re lucky, maybe I’ll tell you more embarrassing Gojo stories tomorrow.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said with a grin, feeling a bit lighter despite the heaviness of the conversation.

As Shoko left the room, you couldn’t help but think about the person Gojo used to be, and how much of that was still hidden beneath the surface.

—

Once you had recovered fully, you found yourself training harder than ever before, trying to tap into this newfound source of energy. Gojo, ever the confident mentor, pushed you to your limits, testing how far you could go before the black energy resurfaced.

At first, it was difficult—frustrating, even. The black energy was slippery, elusive, always just out of reach until it wasn’t. But with each passing day, you felt it more clearly, a flicker of something cold and sharp beneath your usual warmth of cursed energy.

Megumi, Yuji, and Nobara were a constant source of support for you, and they really didn’t need to be—but they wanted to help. Whether it was their own curiosity or the friendship you had developed over the past month, they stuck around.

Training with them made the days more bearable, and their playful banter helped ease the tension that weighed on your shoulders.

One afternoon, you found yourself sparring with Yuji while Nobara and Megumi sat on the sidelines, doing some homework for another class they had. Yuji, ever the ball of energy, was throwing everything he had into the match, but even he couldn’t help but crack jokes between strikes.

“C’mon, y/n, is that all you got?” he teased, dodging one of your kicks with ease.

You grinned despite the sweat dripping down your face. “Just wait. I’m holding back so I don’t embarrass you.”

“Like that’s possible, you were just unconscious for a day, y/n. Don’t get cocky!” Nobara sarcastically scoffed from the sidelines, earning a chuckle from Megumi, who was trying to hide his amusement.

The laughter and camaraderie between the four of you made the discovery of this dark energy less daunting, and the uncertainty less frightening. You felt supported—more than ever before. But even with all the training, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong.

‘How did I get here?’ You thought while grabbing some water during a short training break. It’s not like you could answer that question; you still have next to no memories of your life before this—before discovering jujutsu sorcery.

You had no clue what you were doing here, but you knew you had very little choice in being here, it was all you knew now. You just had to do your best.

The black energy inside you was growing stronger, more insistent. But you wanted answers now, living in a constant state of unknown was becoming unbearable.

—

In the days following, you recalled scenes from the battle with the special grade curses. One of the curse's words replayed in your mind like a broken record. Each time you tried to push it away, the memory clawed its way back, gnawing at the edges of your thoughts.

As you sat alone in your room, your hands idly tracing the bandages still wrapped around your torso, the curse’s voice echoed: "Do you feel it…It's almost time for you."

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that came with those words. What had it meant? Why had it focused on you, singling you out with such terrifying precision?

Before being found by Gojo, I had never been around curses…right?

—

Later that evening, as the sun melted into the horizon, bathing the school grounds in an orange glow, you crossed paths with Gojo again. His usual carefree grin was firmly in place, but by now, you knew better—that smile often masked something deeper.

He stood leaning against one of the chainlink fences just outside the outdoor training grounds; his blindfold was nowhere to be seen and was replaced by a pair of dark grey rectangle-shaped shades.

It was after teaching hours, so Gojo wore his casual clothes: just an oversized black long-sleeved shirt—though it seems he had cut the neckline, as it exposed more of his collarbone than a normal shirt would, paired with some grey sweatpants.

For whatever reason, whether it be your newfound appreciation for life after nearly dying, you got a warm feeling in your chest (and between your legs) when you saw him. ‘Does he always look this good?’ You thought to yourself as you waltzed up to him, interrupting his concentration on whatever video he was watching on his phone.

“Hey,” you called out, your voice softer than usual. The fading light caught in his messy white hair, making it shimmer, and he turned his head towards you with a raised brow, his curiosity piqued.

“Hey there, walking all by yourself?” He teased, provoking you to roll your eyes with an amused smile. “Thought it was a better idea than walking with you.” You said, biting back at his quip. He let out a laugh and slid his phone into the pocket of his sweats.

“You think you’re funny now? Good lordd…What’s on your mind, y/n?” He asked, sensing the weight of your thoughts.

Despite your humorous banter, his expression shifted—he could tell you were troubled.

You hesitated, biting the inside of your cheek as you tried to find the right words. “Well, I’ve been thinking…that one curse during the battle… it said something. You were there. It talked about it being ‘almost time for me.’” Your eyes searched his, which were barely covered by those sunglasses, needing to know if he had any answers. “What do you think that meant?”

For a moment, his smile faltered. Barely noticeable, but you caught it. He took a slow breath, his hands slipping into his pockets as he stepped closer, the space between you narrowing.

“I’ve been thinking about that too,” he admitted, his tone more serious than usual. “Curses don’t talk just to talk, especially not special grades. I hate to say it, but they’re smart—they know things.” His eyes softened as they locked onto yours, his concern noticeable.

The cryptic warning from the curse still hung heavy in the air, and despite Gojo’s presence, the unease gnawed at you—it had been gnawing at you since you regained consciousness. You wanted to lean into Gojo’s usual lightheartedness, let it wash away the fear creeping up on you, but tonight, it wasn’t enough to quiet the storm brewing inside.

“Why me?” You muttered, mostly to yourself. “Why was it focused on me?” Despite your attempts to stifle your fear, you couldn’t stop your voice from shaking when you spoke.

His grin faded, replaced by a more thoughtful expression as he sat down on a nearby bench. He leaned back slightly, hands still in his pockets, the playful mask he usually wore slipping just enough for you to see the worry beneath it. “Y/n,” he said softly, motioning for you to take a seat beside him, and you followed his motion.

“Curses sense things in people, sometimes for a reason, sometimes because they catch on to something we don’t even realize. But this… was definitely not random.”

A chill ran down your spine. “So what do you think it meant then…when it said it’s ‘almost time for me’?”

Gojo's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than usual, and his blue eyes, usually so carefree, held something deeper now as they looked into yours—an intensity that made your breath hitch. He leaned back on the bench, tilting his head toward the darkening sky, as if searching the sky for the right thing to say.

The orange glow of the setting sun illuminated the chiselled features of his face, and you couldn’t stop your thoughts, ‘God, he looks good.’ It was that moment, waiting for Gojo’s reply, when you realized how close the two of you really were, your legs practically touching as you sat beside each other.

“I wish I knew,” he said after a pause, his voice quieter than usual, almost…gentle. "But what I do know is that curses don't just say things for no reason. Especially not special grades like that. Something’s up."

You sat down beside him, feeling the space between you shrink, though neither of you touched. The warmth from his body seemed to seep into the small gap, but there was an undercurrent of tension, something unspoken yet real in the air between you. His presence was normally a comfort, but tonight, it felt different. Almost charged.

He turned his head slightly, and his eyes met yours again—but this time his gaze was steady, unwavering. “Whatever it saw in you,” he continued, his tone low and serious, “you really don’t need to worry about it—you shouldn’t worry about it at least.”

Your pulse quickened at the way he said it, so casual yet laced with empathy and care. But you were unsatisfied with his answer.

Did he actually just say that to me after I almost died?

“You’re really telling me not to worry!?” You said, feeling the emotions in you start to bubble up within you. “Not to worry? Really Satoru?! I have next to no memories of my life, I suddenly woke up in a forest, surrounded by creepy-ass-curses, and nowww you jujutsu-people want me to fight them!” Your voice raised subconsciously as your emotions continued to rise up in you.

“Not to mention I almost died last week, and while I was in the middle of ‘almost-dying,’ a special grade curse practically threatened me—me personally! And you are sitting here telling me not to fucking worry?!” By then end of this you were practically out of breathfrom the volume of your voice.

“And you know what-” Before you could continue, you were cut off. “I don’t like it when you say it like that.” He said barely above a whisper, his voice sounding almost…sad? You could feel his eyes wandered between yours, searching and darting back and forth. “What the hell are you talking about?” You snapped, still frustrated and heated from your rant.

“My name,” he said softly, his eyes not shifting from yous. “I don’t like it when you said my name in such an angry voice.” Immediately, your frustration was gone, and your expression resembled that of a dear in headlights.

“Satoru?” You said, your head tilting to the side a bit, reflecting the confusion you felt.

“Yes, when you’ve said it before, you said it so nicely, so softly, it sounded so good hearing my name come from you.”

His words hung in the air between you, soft yet cutting, and your heart stuttered at the unexpected vulnerability in them.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out, his confession leaving you at a loss for words. It was a side of Gojo you had never seen—one that wasn't hidden behind his usual cocky smirk or casual confidence.

The air around you seemed to shift, thickening with a tension you couldn't quite place. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as the weight of his gaze held yours, his eyes searching your face, as if trying to find something in you that you weren’t even sure you could give.

“I…” You faltered, your earlier anger dissipating into confusion, but something else lingered beneath the surface—something deeper. Your pulse quickened again, not from frustration but from the strange sensation creeping up your spine.

Gojo’s eyes softened, and though he hadn’t moved closer, the space between you felt significantly smaller. “I get it, y/n. I know all of this is… a lot for you, for anyone.” He said quietly, practically mumbling. “I know things are uncertain and terrifying, but you’re not in this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice cut through the storm of thoughts in your head, leaving you feeling exposed—raw.

You wanted to stay angry, wanted to hold on to that frustration because it was easier than the vulnerability you felt creeping in.

But with the way he was looking at you now—steady, unwavering, almost tender—you felt something inside you waver. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t break the eye contact the two of you held; it was like some external force was interfereing.

Gojo’s expression shifted, the usual teasing smile nowhere in sight. His hand reached out, hesitating for just a moment before gently resting just above your knee. His touch was warm, grounding, and that warm tingly feeling began to creep back in.

“I’m telling you not to worry because, I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said quietly, and the blatant seriousness in his voice sent a shiver through you.

There was something unstated in the way he said it, something more than just a promise of protection. It was intimate, a layer of meaning underneath his words that you weren’t sure you were ready to acknowledge.

You looked up at him, your breath catching as you realized how close he was now, his hand still resting gently on your thigh, his eyes locked on yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence overwhelming in a way that wasn’t just comforting—it was something else entirely. Something that made your pulse race for a reason.

“Satoru…” you whispered, his name falling from your lips—softly this time, as it did naturally.

His expression stayed mostly unchanged, but you could’ve sworn his eyes widened, just a fraction, in response.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and palpable. You could feel it—the unspoken pull—the way your heart ached.

The way his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest second before flicking back up to your eyes, made a heat begin to pool between your legs.

The air around you was charged, and your mind drifted to how easy it would be to just close that distance, to let whatever this was finally spill over and consume you.

Gojo’s hand tightened ever so slightly on your lower thigh, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. His voice was low, almost a whisper when he spoke again, and oh boy you were not prepared for what words left his lips next. “Say my name like that again,” he murmured, “Please, y/n.”

Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to disappear, the only thing that mattered was the space between you and him, and the feeling that, if you took just one step closer, everything would change.

"Satoru, I…" Your voice was breathless, almost as if saying his name had taken something from you, pulling you closer to a line neither of you dared to cross.

But just when it felt like you were teetering on that line, your nerves took over. “Thanks for your help,” you blurted, your legs shifting away form him, breaking the contact between his hand and your skin. The moment, electric and intimate, cooled almost instantly.

Gojo blinked a few times, his hand falling to his side, the intensity of the moment fading as you harshly forced the distance back between you. “I’ll try not to worry, like you said…” You continued awkwardly.

He exhaled softly, and that smartass smile returned to his pretty face once again. "Right… You never have to worry when you’re around me. I’m the best the jujutsu world has to offer." He teased, his voice returning to its usual casualness.

You stood up, looking down at him as you stood in front if him. “Well, I’m gonna get going, Shoko says I should still be resting when I can.” You said, gesturing to the directions of the dorms, and Gojo just nodded in response, leaning back against the bench again, his arms spread over the length of it, his eyes looking up at you—and you were standing so pretty in front of him.

“Goodnight, Satoru.” You said with knowing smile, your gaze lingering for a bit too long befor eturning around and walking back towards the school.

—

The room was thick with tension as the leaders of Jujutsu society sat around the large oak table, their expressions grim. The clan leaders, flanked by stern-faced assistants, wore the air of authority and tradition, while Principal Gakuganji sat at the head, his face as cold and unyielding as ever. The atmosphere was stifling, the weight of the conversation about to unfold already heavy in the air.

Yaga stood off to the side, arms crossed, his face betraying his frustration. Utahime sat beside him, her brow furrowed, glancing between the higher-ups with a mixture of disbelief and quiet anger.

"Principal Gakuganji," the leader of the Kamo clan spoke first, his voice even and measured. "It has come to our attention that there are certain… disturbing developments regarding y/n y/l/n."

The leader of the Zen’in clan, Naobito, gave a snort, his arms resting lazily across his chest. “Disturbing is an understatement.”

Gakuganji leaned forward slightly, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table. "Explain."

The Kamo clan leader continued, casting a disapproving glance toward Yaga and Utahime. "It appears that a certain conversation between two first-year students at the Tokyo school—Itadori and Kugisaki—was overheard. They were discussing a special-grade curse y/n encountered during a recent mission." He paused, letting the implication settle before continuing. "The curse in question reportedly said something about it being 'almost time' for her."

Naobito’s eyes gleamed with a predatory smirk. “A fucking ticking time bomb. That’s what she is.”

Utahime tensed beside Yaga, fists clenching under the table. She opened her mouth to speak, but Yaga beat her to it. "This is ridiculous," Yaga snapped, his voice firm but controlled. "You're basing this entire accusation on what? Something a curse said during battle? That's not enough to—"

"It’s more than enough," Naobito interrupted, his voice sharp, dismissive. “Special grade curses don’t make empty threats. They know what they’re sensing. If a curse says something is 'almost time' for her, that means she’s a threat.”

“She’s already unleashed an unknown cursed energy,” the Kamo clan leader added. "A power even Gojo Satoru hasn’t been able to fully identify or control. Not that he is even trying. That in itself is dangerous enough. She’s unpredictable. Unstable."

Gakuganji’s fingers stilled, his gaze shifting toward Yaga. “And from what we’ve seen… she could be harboring a greater threat. We cannot allow an unknown force like this to develop under our noses. We must act before it becomes too late.”

“Act?” Utahime’s voice rose, incredulous. “You’re going to condemn her for something she hasn’t even done yet? For something none of you fully understand? This is insane!”

Gakuganji’s steely gaze flickered toward Utahime, his expression unreadable. "This is not a decision taken lightly. We understand the complexity of the situation. But the safety of the Jujutsu world cannot be compromised by unknowns."

“She’s an unknown that Gojo Satoru himself is monitoring!” Yaga countered, his voice rising. “Do you really think he would put the entire school at risk for someone he didn’t trust? He’s been training her personally.”

Naobito’s lip curled in a sneer. “And yet, even Gojo can’t seem to keep her under control. And he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about the threat either, that jack-ass…”

The third clan leader finally spoke up. His tone was measured, but there was no mistaking the finality in his words. “She is too much of a risk. An unknown factor in an already unstable world. We cannot afford to wait and see what this cursed energy inside her might become.”

Yaga took a step forward, hands slamming down on the table. "You're talking about a student! A human being! Not some weapon you can discard when it suits you."

“We’ve made our decision,” Gakuganji said, his voice flat.

“For the safety of all sorcerers and the entire country, y/n y/l/n is to be executed by the end of the week.”

[handsbloodied]

tag drop part one (jude's tags and verses)

[muntitled]

𝐒𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓!

- How svt hip hop unit would react to you using your safeword

- cw: fluff, established relationships, humor, slight angst, quickies, rough sex, smut, breeding, degradation, safewords, +18, mdni, mingyu as his own warning

Always be safe, xo

⤑ Seungcheol

"This is good right? You're good?" Over and over again, Seungcheol had peppered you with reassurances. They bounced off the bases of his soft, pillowy lips with the same convictions as the wet kisses he was leaving on the side of your face.

You could feel how rough he was beginning to get.

"You like this, don't you?" You were swimming deep in subspace, a land of pink pillowy nothingness where your brain essentially became a tabularasa. A blank fucking slate.

Like a fucking concrete monolith was stationed between your thighs, rutting against you harder and harder the more time that seems to ebb between you.

"F-Fuck, baby you're so tight, huh? Such a tight little princess for me?" He was completely and utterly delirious. You can't crane your hand to look at him no matter how badly you wish to. Your back flat against the polished wood of his desk, and his hand around your throat keeps you there as Seuncheol traps you underneath him. He fucking loved being framed by your soft, pillowy thighs. They got tighter and weaker intermittently around him, all while he whispered the most vile words into your ear.

"Y-Yeah- Cheol- fuck-" Seungcheol watches in pained ecstacy at your blissed out state, completely catching him in the height of his own Dom space. With your tongue lolling out, Seungcheol dips down to whisper straight into your open mouth, "You're such a pretty little slut you know that-"

He was squeezing the base of your throat as he rutted into you. More and more you began to wonder if you were even a person anymore.

"Just a pretty fucking slut for me to use-"

You felt like an object.

A toy.

And despite your walls clenching around his cock your hand flew to his wrist. "Ch-Cheol-"

"You're gonna make me cum, you stupid fucking bitch-"

"Cheol-"

"F-Fuck you're such a dumb little girl-"

"CHEOL- Ohmygod-PEACH-" as if released by some evil spell, Seungcheol immediately uncuffs his iron grip from the base of your throat. He is off of yoy in five seconds, creating as much distance possible while his chest rises and falls and rises and falls. You turn slightly, eyes wide and brimming with... something. It wasn't fear, Seungcheol would hate himself if it was that.

"Baby- I-"

"Could we maybe like, ease up on the name calling. J-Just a little."

He looks fucking devastated "Fuck, I'm- genuinely so-"

"I know. Babe, it's not your fault."

"When you said Degradation I just-" he shakes his head. He wasn't about to blame you. Anything but that. "Fuck I'm sorry-"

"Hey, you're so good. So good. I'm just not into it as much as I thought I was and that was an error on my part."

"Don't fucking apologize. Thank you for telling me."

"Thank you for being a safe enough place to tell." You shrug.

Seungcheol looks around the messy room with deflated shoulders.

"Are we.. do you- I mean I could run you a bath-"

"Get inside me, I was still close,"

⤑Wonwoo

There isn't a moment that Wonwoo isn't always just a little bit overly cautious during your various sexual escapes.

Whether it was a quickie in the bathroom of a Michelin Star restaurant or a divinely long session of lovemaking under the wooden beams of the ceiling, with both your bodies submerged in a sea of blankets. So completely consumed with one another, you've already filled the entire expanse of the messy California king with all your tussling and lovemaking. Wonwoo is always careful.

Infuriatingly so.

Howevsr, there are moments like tonight, where the stars were aligned just a little differently, and your long-term boyfriend was feeling all the more frisky.

You can feel his hands everywhere the very second he stormed into your bedroom from being cooped up in study.

What you expected would be the usual, sober, safe, sex with Wonwoo quickly bled into something else when he pushed open your legs and pulled down your underwear along with your tight pink bum shorts in a single fell swoop.

"Uh -" Your body just let itself be undressed by him. All you could do was watch your boyfriend and his stoney visage as he paid special attention to undressing you. The warm glow of the overhead lights shone off his glasses as he lifted your torso up as if it was nothing, undressing you as if you were a child with underdeveloped motor skills.

"Did everything go okay at work-"

"I can't write. Jihoon wants to record tomorrow and I still haven't written my verse," Wonwoo pays extra attention to rubbing his hands on your soft supple skin. His shadow falls over you as you feel completely vulnerable underneath him, and he has yet to spare your actual eyes even a single glance.

"I'm sure every amazing rapper's had writer's block once and a whi- FUCK!" Your head shot back into the pillows as Wonwoo buried his face in between your legs, eating you out with the most fervour he'd ever radiated in a single sitting. Gone was the poised, level headed Wonwoo. He died somewhere between the pages of his coffee stained notebook.

"God- Wonwoo-" he sticks his tongue out, lapping hungrily at your cunt that only gushes for him. He hums against the tortured skin and your fingers immediate reach for his scalp.

"Fuck-" he mumbles against your cunt before lifting his head, "Can't work like this-" he says before pulling off his thick rimmed glasses and discarding it somewhere on the bed. Your eyes cross the moment his plush lips rub against your cunt and your hips lift almost automatically from the bed. His hands are encircled around your ample thighs, promising you you're not going anywhere and his mouth visibly moves as he begins to eat you out in the most literal, most vile display of eating out you'd ever witness.

One tap on your thigh let's you know you're not watching him like he wants you to. Eye contact was sacred and Wonwoo always let you know.

You gain enough energy to crane you head down to make eye contact but the second you see his mess of overgrown hair, tousled from your harsh grip, or the eager, half lidded eyes, you're completely done for. You gush all over his face, and your limbs wrack and writhe, but he keeps you locked there.

"W-Wonwoo- Fuck-i cant-"

He doesn't listen, as if trapped in his own reverie of pussy-drunk pleasure as he continues to slurp at your cunt with his mouth sucrioned onto your clit.

"Wonwoo- Baby- please-"

He's far too locked away in the essence of you, way too fargone in the softness of your cunt to begin to realize you're becoming way too overstimulated.

It's only when you're tapping furiously at the side of his head, furiously screaming, "YODA! FUCK- YODA-" that he's ungluing his puffy lips from your poor clit, breathing heavily with his eyes wide as ifhed just been set free from the shackles of a spell. You're crying. That's the first thing he noticed. The second is your quivering legs, shaking like autumn leaves in the wind. Your bottom lip is shaking too, that's what gets him scrambling beside you where he immediately envelops you in the warmth of his embrace.

"I'm sorry, Princess-" and you can tell he means it, but still you weep silently.

Your voice is quivering as you say, "You-You know I can't go again so quickly after... after..." Your chest rises and falls and rises and falls and Wonwoo immediately presses your face into his chest, to let you air out all the bad emotions onto his plain white tee.

"I thought I was doing something good for you, but I only ended up thinking about myself," he admits against your forhead, where his lips refuse to part.

"I just... needed a break from work-" he says, "I'm sorry," and you forgive him because It's him.

⤑Mingyu

"Shh," he whispers, pulling your braids across your shoulders as he makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror, "This'll be really quick, I promise."

"I dunno, bro-" you whisper back, despite your hands already gripping the marble finishes of the bathroom sink. "Your quickies are never as quick as they need to be-" you say, pushing you ass back against the bulge in his designer jeans as you lower your torso to the sink.

Mingyu smiled from the mirror, something diabolical, his hair cropped, and his skin crisp from the warm, orange glow of the bathroom. Outside, somewhere down a labyrinth of corridors, the rest of his group sat in the VIP section of the televised award show. All of them humming along to whatever group has taken the stage with the hopes that their rapper would make it out on time for their own performance.

"You just indirectly told me I last long, baby," he says, clutching his heart through his Balmain dress shirt while making heart eyes at you through the mirror.

"Hurry or you're gonna miss your-"

"Fuck you're so wet- why are you so wet?" Mingyu rubs the softness of your ass while examining the gush of arousal coating your panties. He lifts his head, "I'm going to breed you-"

"Mingyu-"

He's already pulling his pants down, quick enough to pull his dick out and shove it inside your cunt. Your lips part and your head pushes against the mirror and you're seeing absolute stars. Quickies with Mingyu always felt particularly barbaric because of how sloppy he tended to get. His tongue practically rolled out his mouth like the golden retriever he was so often described to be, while he rutted into you with some base heavy trap song pouring through the speakers.

"F-Fuck, Mingyu- please,"

What he thought was a silent plead for more, spurred Mingyu. He was an insatiable brute as he laid a hand on your back, pushing you further against the sink. When the side of your face hit the marble, your blood ran cold.

"I'm going to fucking breed you , baby." His eyes are obscured by heavily tinted designer shades and his head his thrown back in ecstasy. He was beginning to drill his cock into you and you were beginning to find there is nothing you can do about it.

"'Gyu- you can't come inside, you know that-"

"I really don't think you should be on those pills anymore, babe-"

You instinctively lift your head to try to glimpse him through the mirror because he was talking crazy. His hand lifts his shirt as he drills into you, revealing his chiseled core and a near perfect lopsided smile.

"Are you talking about my birth control?"

Instead of giving you a response: "Down-" He grunts, forcing you to bend over again as his thrusts became sloppily and sloppily, "Almost there, don'wanna miss the performance-"

"Mingyu you're not cumming inside me-"

"Fuck- why not? You're so perfect and so tight. Your body's just begging for me to fuck a baby into it-"

"PEPPERONI-" You scream immediately bullying him off of you until he's stumbling backwards and your back is pressed against the marble. You watch him shake his head, pants loose around his waist and yet he still somehow locked infuriatingly perfect.

"What the fuck- DUDE!" You can barely keep the anger from seeping out of your voice as you glare down your irresponsible boyfriend.

"WHAT THE FUCK-"

"I didn't finish!" he whines while stomping on the ground with his heavy sneakers.

"Were you seriously going to finish inside me!? After I explicitly told you-"

"Shh, shh," Mingyu says, stepping towards you to even out the angry creases on your forhead. "It was just for the fantasy, babe," he whispers, "Just for the fanatsy,"

⤑ Vernon

You didn't wanna say the word. It just sorta slipped. Straddling Hansol while some Pixar film played in the back was definitely not how you expected your second sexual encounter to go. There was still so much you had to learn about one another. Your bodies were vast fields of uncharted territory, and you weren't particularly sure Vermon would like all of those parts.

"Fuck, you're so hot- he whispers against your bare chest because discarding your shirt had been the first order of business. "So beautiful-"

You had begun rutting against him, with your skirt falling over his sweatpants, and your breathing became heavier and heavier. There was no explaining the tension that bubbled as your cunt rubbed greedily against his front but you were well aware of that feeling.

"God, you feel so damn good," he whispers, "You gonna cum for me?" Hansol's voice is utterly dripping with sex and all you can do is whimper as you dig your fingers into his hair- "Hansol, I-"

"Fuck, I think you're gonna cum from humping me, baby? Thats so hot..." A pool of wetness trickled from your cunt and it stole all the strength to immediately push yourself off screaming "NEMO-" you tapped out.

"Woah-" Vernon looks confused, justifiably so as you scoot to the floor, your legs quivering underneath you as your orgasm ebbed away.

"What do you need?"

You evade eye contact as you speak. "I just... didn't wanna disgust you or anything-"

"Dude, 'disgust' is literally the last thing on my mind. What's the problem?" You're still unable to make eye contact, causing Vernon to sigh as he sits forward with his elbows on his knees, to get closer to you in height.

"Is it the movie? I never thought Pixar would end up being a cockblock-"

"I nearly squirted." You admit. "Like everywhere-"

A moment of silence swells between you two and you can feel your heart sinking with every passing second. You wish to be anywhere but here. You could already smell all the warm popcorn you would ingest out of heartbreak, all the movies you'd-

"Fuck, and you thought that would 'disgust' me?" You peer up at him in pure wonder while lust descends on his visage like a shadow. "Sit on my face right now."

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.8 a little cottage on the countryside

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 8/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 13.5k (...i'm gonna go take a nap lol)

a/n. hello hellooo my dear kickoff readers, hope you're having a nice day so far! this is the longest chapter yet, so i hope you enjoy <3 it's also got one of my favorite tropes everrr hehehehe you could probs guess what it is halfway through. see you at the bottom and happy reading! sorry if there are typos i didn't proofread this one as much as the others haha

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

You don’t cry much these days, but when you do, it’s usually out of nowhere. 

Like now, as you stand in the school’s photo lab, developing the shots that you took for UTokyo’s game against Osaka last week, and you have to swipe at the tears on your cheek threatening to fall all over the captured images of grass, benches, nets, banners, stands, and him. 

One of the photographs catches your eye, and you pick it up from the table. It’s a candid moment you took of Gojo on the field right before you confessed to him. You had spotted him first while the team was doing their warm-up, and you thought he looked nice from the way he had that concentrated look on his face that you’ve learned to love. But right before you clicked the shutter, he had turned away, chasing after the ball, and so all you could capture was his back facing you as he looked off ahead into the distance. You wondered if that was how it’s always been this whole time–with you looking at him while he’s looking off at something else. It was a depressing thought, but your mind had a tendency for sadness since that day.

The sound of the photo lab door opening jolts you back to reality, and you quickly straighten your posture and wipe your cheek with your sleeve, trying to sniffle as discreetly as possible, then set the picture down. Your fellow film major greets you quietly, asking if you’re still using the developer liquid, to which you say no, then hand it over to them. You stuff your photographs into a folder and head out the door.

You make it across campus to the Film & Media Studies building, then up to the third floor where your professor's office is. His door was ajar, but you still knocked before entering.

He looks up from the photographs he was grading. “Oh, y/n, hello. How are you?”

“I’m well, thank you, yourself?” you ask, taking a seat on the chair that was fixed to face his desk. You pull your tote bag into your lap.

“Great, thanks. How can I help you?”

You slide the folder to him over the scraped, worn burgundy wood of his desk. “I still had to turn in my photos for the assignment due last week. I appreciate the extension.”

“Ah, right,” he says, taking the folder from you. “I’ll get around to grading them. I’m curious, what did you end up choosing for your subject matter?” He tucks the folder underneath the pile that was to his side.

“I took photos of the soccer team’s game against Osaka Uni on Thursday last week,” you tell him.

He frowns at you. “Film cameras don’t have that level of zoom, though. I do hope you followed the rubric guidelines for central object to frame ratio, otherwise I’ll have to take off points.” 

“Oh– I did. I took the photos from the sidelines,” you tell him, panicking already. 

His eyes widened. “From the sidelines? On the field?”

You nod at him, fidgeting with your bag in your lap.

“Wow, I can’t say I’ve ever had a student take photos like that before. That’s pretty challenging to pull off, though,” he says, sitting up straighter, “...you mind if I take a look at them right now?”

You shake your head. “Oh, no. Not at all.”

He pulls your folder out from the bottom of the pile, then gently slips the photos out of them, rearranging them all across his desk. He leans down closer to study some of them, tilting his head curiously at others, furrowing his brow in concentration to a select few. “These are incredible.”

You take in a deep breath. “Thank you, professor.”

He nods at you with acknowledgement, and you watch him as he studies the images quietly for another minute, then looks up at you. “Is there anything else I can help you with?” he asks when he notices you’re still seated.

“Ah…yes, there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?” He taps his pen on the desk.

“I was wondering if you could write me a letter of recommendation for the film graduate program.”

He nods, like he was expecting the question. “Yeah, of course. Just send me your resume and portfolio.” He taps eagerly on one of your images. “Please send me digitals for these, too.”

You let out a relieved exhale. “Yes, I will. Thank you so much, professor, I really appreciate it.”

You left the building feeling extremely relieved about your professor agreeing to write your recommendation, but also feeling sad because you couldn’t tell Gojo about it, since this was the full-circle moment for the little arrangement the two of you had. There’s a thought that considers texting him, and you take out your phone then go to his name, but your thumbs just can’t bring yourself to send him a message.

The days of the week go by in a blur, and between every single little moment in life, your mind always wanders to him. It’s hard to get over someone when you’re surrounded by them. Like late at night while you’re editing the digitals of the game last week to send to your professor, and you find yourself staring at the pictures you’ve taken of him. It’s hard to get over him when the school worships the soccer team and you’re forced to see promotional banners and posters all over campus with his stupidly beautiful face in them. You didn’t have the heart to block him on Instagram, because you remember that time he teased you about how you didn’t follow him back, and you wonder if it would make him sad if you blocked him, so you just resorted to deleting the app instead. And although you were the one that asked for space from him, you were growing increasingly annoyed at how good he seemed to be at keeping it. 

The library wasn’t even much of a safe space either, since you overheard a group of girls the other day at a table arguing about which of the players on the team is the hottest, and so you find yourself doing your homework on a lovely Wednesday morning at your apartment instead. 

You lean back in your chair and look up at the ceiling, and then jump when you hear your phone ring, quickly turning it over to read the caller ID. Nobara. You accept the call, placing her on speaker, then set your phone back down on your desk. 

“Hey, Nobie, what’s up?”

“Hey, nothing much. Just wanted to ask if you wanted to hang out,” she says.

“Oh, I would love to, but I’m working on homework right now. It’s due in a couple of hours,” you sigh.

“Boo, you whore. For what class?”

“My stats 130 elective,” you say. “I’m a film major, why do I need to know statistics?” You tap your pen to your chin. “Actually, it might be valid.”

“Is that the class with the creepy professor?” she asks. “The one that got caught with a PornHub tab open while he was presenting his lecture slides.”

“Yeah.”

“I took his class last semester! I still have all my homework for it,” she exclaims on the other end, “do you want me to send it over?”

“Yes, omg, I could kiss you right now,” you groan, resting your head on your arm sprawled across your desk in exhaustion.

“So definite no to hang out?” 

“Sorry, I’ll reach out later though,” you sigh, “also, my car is still in repair…apparently something came up with the engine. So we can’t go far unless we invite Mina.”

“That’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to come if we invite her just to chauffeur,” she says sarcastically. “By the way, how’d the pictures come along? For the newsletter?”

You lift your head up off of the desk in a panic. Shit. You were so focused on turning in your digitals of the game to your professor that you totally forgot you were supposed to send them to Utahime as well. “Oh my god, I forgot. When do they finalize the release again?”

“Isn’t it today at noon? I sent over film club’s photos this morning,” she says. 

You glance at the time. 11:56am. 

“Nobara, I’ve gotta go. I need to call Utahime, sorry,” you say. She acknowledges you, telling you to hurry, and then you hang up.

You call Utahime and scribble down on a sticky note to paste on your wall as a reminder to buy her a loving gift basket one of these days because of course she extends the release deadline just for you. You finish touching up the digitals and then send them to her via email, and after you finish your statistics homework, she calls you again to meet up somewhere nearby.

“Thanks so much for coming here,” Utahime says as she sits across from you at one of the local cafes you frequent. “Also, this chai latte is so good, I’m honestly surprised.”

You nod at her. “This place has great drinks.” You slide a folder across the table to her and she sets her drink down to accept it.

“Sorry if it was a hassle, but I just had to ask for physicals of these photos,” she sighs as she pulls them out. “They’re amazing, seriously, I gasped when I saw them. I’m used to sifting through a lot of professional sports photos for the newsletter, for all of the teams on campus, but I’ve never seen photos as charming as these. It could be the film photography aspect, since most of the ones I see are digital, but I’m seriously shocked you could capture shots like this at a rowdy men’s soccer match.”

You’re shaking your head at her. “Please don’t compliment me so much, I’ll cry. And it’s no issue, I had a spare set of physicals from when I developed them. You can keep them.” 

She smiles at you. “Okay, well then, I think it goes without saying that I’ll definitely be including them for the sports recap this week. I’ll send you the money soon, too.”

You clap your hands together and interlock your fingers. “I’m. So. Grateful. For. You.” 

She laughs across from you and takes another sip of her latte before sitting back slightly, glancing at the photos spread across the table. “Hm…how busy are you for the rest of the semester?”

You tilt your head at her and bring your coffee to your lips, taking a sip before setting it back down. “Not terribly busy, I quit my job last month so I’m just taking my assignments as they come and go.”

Utahime nods at you, a thoughtful expression on her face, and she smooths down the fabric of her shirt. “Okay, well, I got an email from the school this morning that one of the newsletter photographers for the men’s soccer team is moving to a different city, so they’re looking to fill in the position as soon as possible and they asked if I knew anyone,” she mentions, resting her elbow on the table and then placing her hand on her cheek. “They usually only hire professionals, but if I put a word in for you, they’d probably offer it to you.”

Your eyes widen at her from across the table, heart beating a bit faster in your chest. 

“They pay really well for a part-time job. It’s essentially full-time pay for part-time hours,” she continues, “but it’s probably because you’ll have to travel with the team to their away games, including unofficial matches and conferences. If you’re not that busy for the next two months, then I think it’d be a good opportunity for you to build experience.” 

You purse your lips together, considering her words. Although it’s a bit different from your long-term career plans, it was still a great way to get experience before graduate school. And besides, you needed the money, considering you quit your job last month and your savings were starting to run thin–never mind the fact that your car repair bill went from a few thousand yen to somewhere in the tens-of-thousands. And you would prefer to still be able to afford rent. Oh, and eat. Possibly still pay for Netflix.

But then there was the fact that having that kind of job meant that you would be spending a lot of time with the soccer team, and therefore increases the chances of running into Gojo. And you’re supposed to be staying away from him to get over your feelings. 

“It sounds like an amazing opportunity, really,” you start, “...but I can’t.”

Utahime frowns at you and sits up straight. “Really? I thought you’d be excited. Why not?”

You sigh. “It’s complicated.”

“y/n…” Utahime starts, “I don’t really know what’s going on in your head right now, but isn’t this your dream? For your work to reach people? I know it’s only a stepping stone, believe me I know very well the path to becoming any sort of artist is an uphill battle of hell, but I’ve known you for a while now. And I know how much your dreams mean to you, and how hard you’re willing to work for them.”

Your heart swells in our chest at Utahime’s words. She was right, and you were starting to get really sick of letting your fears hold you back from what you really wanted in life. “...you’re right, I’m sorry. I’d love to be considered for the position, if you could recommend me.”

She smiles and nods at you. “Will do.”

–

The email for the job offer comes surprisingly fast, and you quickly read through it before accepting. It wasn’t a horrible time commitment, given you’d only have to take pictures during active play during matches, give or take a couple hours before, and the photographers rotate between who takes up each of the conferences so the work was split up. You were able to meet a few of the newsletter photographers & journalists during the game last week, so you already knew some of them. The offer letter came attached with a full calendar of the soccer team’s practice schedule, official match schedule, unofficial match schedule, conference schedule, and other publicity schedule, and you’re shocked at how busy all the players must be. The fact that they still have time to be students–and for most of them, active participants in fraternities–was honestly beyond you. 

It seemed like they only had four more official matches left, two being away matches, along with a couple of unofficial matches that they may or may not participate in depending on how the season goes for them. 

Their next game was on Friday against Kyoto university, and you were scheduled to shoot for their sports conference the day following as well. So you find yourself on a train embarked for the countryside, and you peer out of the window with a nervous feeling in your stomach. The sparkling skyscrapers and bustling crowds of Tokyo gradually started to give way into sights of expansive lush greenery, picturesque and charming towns, and winding rivers surrounded by trees. The closer you got to Kyoto, the sky became more gray until a steady drizzle began to fall against the train window. When you reached the final station, the rain had dissipated, and the taxi ride to the hotel was only about fifteen minutes. The journey felt exhausting, and you were so incredibly ready to pass out in a comfy bed. 

You stood underneath a small sidewalk roof near the vending machines lining the outside of the hotel, trying to keep your bag and suitcase with all your equipment in it dry from the remnant soft mist of rain still lingering in the air.  

“Hey, Utahime, sorry to bother you so late,” you say, holding your phone between your shoulder and ear, “but is it the Hilton on 3rd street? Or on Main? Because if it’s the one on Main, then I may have messed up-”

You stop speaking when you hear a masculine voice down the road towards the left, echoing off of the lined up small shops along the sidewalk, and your heart could have recognized the sound anywhere. You’re swift to turn and face that direction, almost dropping your phone in the process, and you see him– the object of all your suffering lately. 

Gojo stood there, wide-eyed and stopped completely in his tracks as the recognition of you under the dim street lighting flashes across his face. He’s in pajamas– a red long-sleeve cotton shirt that looks so stupidly soft and comfortable it almost makes you emotional, with some matching checkered red pants. It was the most casual clothing you’ve ever seen him in. His hair appears damp, slightly tousled, from what you could assume was an effort to dry it off fast. And he had crocs on. In sports mode. You make a mental note to ask him about his charms and if he’s willing to trade any of them with you. But maybe some other day. When it doesn’t hurt to think about him.

“y/n?” he calls your name out, astonished. He’s looking at you like he’s just seen a ghost but in the best way possible. 

You blink at him, heart skipping a beat just from the mere sight of him, and when you hear Utahime’s voice on the line you’re shaken out of your trance. “Oh, sorry, I’m still here. I…I think I just had my question answered. Thank you, have a good night.” You pull your phone down, gaze lingering on your screen for way too long because you can’t brave yourself to look over at the man to your left, and you end the call.

There’s the sound of remnant puddles of water splashing as he takes a few steps closer to you, and you can see his reflection in the water of the one in front of you. The expression on his face matches the one that was there when you last saw him outside of the UTokyo stadium at the west side exit. It’s an expression you could still see every time you close your eyes.

Finally turning to face him, you purse your lips together. “Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he asks, voice laced with confusion and you see him take in your appearance with eager flicks of his gaze all around, like he couldn’t believe you were standing in front of him right now.

“Satoru!” another familiar voice calls out. “Did you get the orange-flavored ones too? Choso’s a fucking idiot and got the grape ones instead. I hate those. They taste like medicine. And ass. Not that I would know what–” You see Geto emerge from the darkness to Gojo’s side, and now he’s looking at you with a surprised look too. “Oh, it’s y/n. What are you doing here?”

“Hey, you two,” you chirp, trying to act as if an entire world of awkwardness wasn’t being exchanged between you and Gojo right now, for the sake of hoping that Geto wasn’t a very good judge of energy. “I’m here to take pictures of the soccer team.”

Your eyes flicker to Gojo, who is still looking at you like he’s never seen a person before. 

“Oh, is it for another one of your assignments?” Geto asks. 

“No, it’s not. It’s for the newsletter,” you explain to him, “I guess it’s my job now.”

There are a few more distant footsteps that follow behind the two of them, with the crinkling noises of plastic bags hitting against thighs echoing through the streets, and eventually they catch up. You see Nanami and the UTokyo team’s goalie, you believe his name is Choso, arrive at this little gathering that was taking place outside of the hotel.

“That’s awesome!” Geto exclaims. “I’m sure the newsletter will lead to a lot of exposure.”

“Who reads the newsletter?” Choso asks. 

Geto nudges him with his elbow. “Dude.”

“What?”

He then fills Choso in on the conversation, “Oh, my bad.”

“Don’t worry, y/n, I read the newsletter,” Geto says, “I read it like the morning paper.”

“It only comes out once a week, but nice try,” you respond, giving him a weary look.

Nanami crosses his arms. “I actually do happen to read it,” he says, “although I refrain from the soccer section. Feels rather egotistic to read it. I find the campus politics section to be enjoyable, though.”

The rest of you exchange annoyed glances at that.

“Satoru reads the soccer section,” Geto says, slinging an arm around him, “‘cause he’s full of himself.”

For a moment, Gojo remains silent, while his teammates, who had been observing him with amused expressions, gradually shift to awkward blinking, like they were expecting him to complain, or say something sarcastic, or joke around by now.

“I do read it,” he says, eyes locked on yours. “I saw the release from yesterday. Your pictures were stunning.”

You’re flustered from the way he’s looking at you. “Thanks.” 

Choso opens the plastic bag he was holding, peering down into it. “Shit. Ice cream’s melting, guys.”

“Yeah, we should probably head back to the rooms,” Geto looks at you, “do you want any snacks?”

“Oh, no. I’m good. I was just about to go check-in,” you say to them.

The boys politely say bye to you, and Gojo mentions something about staying back for a bit and hands Nanami the plastic bag he was carrying before they head back into the hotel. And then the two of you are alone under this roof, drops of water falling from it in between the two of you. He takes a step towards you, and you instantly stiffen. He seems to notice because he sighs and then walks past you to the vending machine that was next to you, pulling out some spare change from his pocket and inputting it into the machine.

“Do you want anything to drink?” The machine feeds him something, and he crouches down to pick it up before standing up again.

“No, I’m good, thanks,” you say, hand clutching the handle of your suitcase. 

He cracks the can of his soda open. “So, you’re going to be traveling with us for the newsletter now?” he asks, so concisely, like he felt that every word comes with a tax.

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have to act like we’re strangers.”

You turn to face him. “What should we act like then?”

There’s a hesitant look in his expression as he looks down at his feet and then back up at you. “Can’t we at least be friends?”

The question softens you at your core, the tone of his voice sounding genuine. Being friends with him sounds so nice, and you kind of wish that’s what you two always were. Just friends. Maybe it would have avoided all of this heartache. But deep inside you knew that just being friends with him wasn’t an option anymore, at least not for now. “No, sorry. That’s just a recipe for disaster. I have to go check-in now.”

You grab your tote bag from the bench, grip tight onto your suitcase handle and make your way splashing across the shallow puddles then through the hotel’s automatic doors into the warmth of the lobby. 

The lighting inside was warm and there were moderately high ceilings adorned with vintage-looking chandeliers. Around the perimeter, there were amenities including a cozy lounge with a fireplace, a small bar serving cocktails, as well as a business lounge with booths and multiple TVs mounted to the walls playing the local news. It made you feel like you were on vacation, and getting to a hotel at this hour while on vacation always meant that you were about ready to pass out on some freshly washed and tucked white linen sheets after taking a nice warm shower with a lavender-scented mini soap bar.

Making your way through the maze of plush seating areas, you get to the concierge desk to check-in. There was a professionally-dressed woman with a slicked-back bun standing there behind the counter, her eyes scanning the computer screen in front of her, and a big, burly man that stood behind her wearing all black that appeared to be security.

“Hello, I’m here to check-in,” you say, placing your forearm on the cold black counter.

The lady doesn’t look up from the computer screen. You clear your throat.

“Oh, hello. Name on the reservation?” she asks you.

You take a look down at your phone screen. The reservation was still under the name of the person that had recently quit the job. “Yui Ishikawa.”

The lady behind the counter hums to herself, obnoxiously tapping at the keyboard with only one of her index fingers. She was chewing gum. “Hm. Don’t see that name here.”

“What?” You squint at your phone and refresh the page, then turn it to face her. “But it’s on your official booking site. There was email confirmation too.”

She glances at your phone screen then taps at the keyboard again, still obnoxiously loud, but she uses her other index finger this time. “Yeah, still nothing.”

“This has to be some kind of mistake,” you say to her.

She looks up at you with an annoyed expression. “Do you want to take a look at the screen? See for yourself.” She turns the monitor to face you. 

You don’t even work here, but you could see clear as day on their interface software that there was a reservation for this Yui Ishikawa woman at this time tonight. You point at it. “It’s right there. The reservation is literally right there.”

She turns the screen back to herself and squints at it. “Oh. Well, unfortunately, we already gave that room to someone else. Since it wasn’t there on our system a half hour ago.”

“What? How is that fair?” You were starting to get seriously annoyed. That refreshing shower you were dreaming of was starting to sound more of a need than a want with every passing minute. “Can you give me another room?”

“No, sorry, we’re all booked for tonight,” she tells you, without offering any additional help.

You look at her baffled. The big burly man behind her has now taken an interest in the conversation as well. “Okay…can you tell me if there are any hotels nearby that I could stay at?”

“Look. This is the countryside, ma’am, there are only a handful of hotels in this area that aren’t tourist accommodations. It’s also the night before a men’s college soccer match, and there seems to be some business seminar taking place nearby too. You can call and check, but the closest hotel this large is about an hour away,” she tells you. 

“What? An hour away? I can’t afford a cab ride like that,” you tell her.

“Unfortunately, that isn’t really my problem,” she says.

You blink at her. “Are you being serious? This is ridiculous.”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to leave if you can’t comply with our booking rules,” she declares.

“Leave?! You’re the ones that messed up the booking!” You’re yelling now, a few heads turning from the bar at the back. Exhaustion was pulsing through your veins and your filter was slipping. “Do you have any idea how to do your damn job?”

The woman guffaws at you. “Alright, that’s it.” She snaps her fingers, and you watch as the big, burly man walks around the counter of the concierge desk to make his way to you.

You take a step back, watching in horror as he towers over you and grabs onto your arm. “Let’s leave without any issues, miss,” he says in a deep voice.

“What?! But– hey, that’s my suitcase! Don’t– wait–”

“Woah, woah, woah,” you hear a familiar voice call out from the left. “What’s going on here?”

The three of you turn your heads in the direction of the voice, and you see Gojo, still clad in those ridiculously soft-looking pajamas, doing a light jog up to the counter.

The woman at the reception desk straightens herself up immediately, and she pets down on her dress and fixes her hair at the mere sight of him. You resist the urge to roll your eyes. “Nothing to see here, sir! Just a crazy woman that can’t comprehend hotel establishment rules.”

“That crazy woman just so happens to be my wife,” he says, pulling the big burly man’s hand off of your arm.

All three of you look at him dumbfounded. 

“Y-Your wife?” the woman asks, sounding equally surprised and disappointed. “But she’s complaining about the fact that she doesn’t have a room.”

“I know, she does that all the time,” he sighs, “she’s got–...early-onset…dementia. Sweetheart, what did I tell you about packing up all your things and leaving the room when I’m not watching you?”

You give him a what the fuck look. He scowls at you to just play along.

“So…she’s with you?” the woman asks.

Gojo nods. “She always forgets that we’ve already booked a room together. Just a silly little sickly lady. Isn’t that right, honey?” He’s holding your shoulders and making you face the concierge woman.

“Y-Yes…” you say awkwardly, trying to put on a smile.

“So, if you could forgive her behavior,” he says with a super pleading voice, pulling you into him so your back is flush against his front side. “I’ll keep her in check from now on.”

The woman lets out a scoff in disbelief. “Alright…just don’t let her out again.” You send her a nasty look. The big burly man lets out a hmph and steps away from you. 

“Sure thing. Let’s go, honey,” Gojo says, grabbing the handle of your suitcase in one hand and your upper arm in his other, dragging you with him across the lobby to the elevators. It isn’t until he’s pressed the up button and you finally gain your footing again after stumbling a few steps that you yank away from his grip.

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, feeling embarrassed.

He looks down at you with a raise of his eyebrow. “Saving you from getting kicked out of the only decent hotel within a thirty-mile radius?”

“I didn’t need your help, I had the situation under control,” you mumble, smoothing out the layers of your clothing.

“Yes. That’s exactly what that looked like,” he muses as the elevator door opens and he steps inside, taking your suitcase with him as hostage. You panic at the sight and step inside with him, the door closing behind you. 

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“To my room,” he says, pressing a button on the control pad, “you couldn’t get one, right?”

Your eyes widen. “No…I couldn’t.” 

Gojo’s room is on the fourth floor, eleven units down to the right, and you follow him with dragging feet all the way down. Once he makes it in front of the door and takes the keycard out of his pocket, he pauses and looks over at you. “Waiting for you to thank me.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “For what?”

He’s waving the card in the air tauntingly. “You look exhausted as hell right now. I’m the one with the access to a nice hotel vanity and a soft, warm bed,” he practically purrs the words.

You’re instantly folding. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, honey,” he chimes, pressing the card to the reader.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumble as he opens the door for you.

You step into the room, rolling your suitcase inside with you, and take a look around. There was a single bed with the headboard up against the left-side wall, a nightstand on both sides and a desk where you noticed Gojo had his laptop open and a few books out. The bathroom was to the right, and there was a long table that had a coffee machine as well as the TV on top of it.

You place your suitcase against the wall then turn around, standing only a few feet from the entrance of the room, to find Gojo still standing outside in the hallway.

“Do you have to go somewhere?” you ask him. “Why are you just standing there?”

“Oh, I don’t need any of my other stuff,” he says to you, tapping at his pocket where you can see the imprint of his wallet, “room’s all yours.”

Your eyes widen at him. “Wait…are you going to sleep somewhere else?”

He tilts his head at you, as if that was obvious. “Yeah, I was going to go crash on the couch in Suguru’s room or something.”

“But–” you start, stopping yourself. 

He’s waiting for you to speak, but you can’t.

“Well…good night, then,” he says and he turns to the side, about to walk down the hall, when you reach out and grab the sleeve of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks.

This was a bad idea. You’re supposed to be putting distance between the two of you right now, so that you can get over him. This was a man that very clearly said he didn’t have feelings for you. But honestly, you missed him. You missed him so damn much this past week, and you can only be strong for so long. 

“You have an important match tomorrow,” you say quietly, “you should be getting a good night’s rest. We’ll share the bed.”

He turns to face you, looking down at where you were pinching the fabric of his shirt, which was just as soft as you had imagined, and he glances up to meet your gaze once again. “I’m…really confused right now.”

“What if you guys lose and are booted from the competition, and I have to spend the rest of my life regretting the fact that the reason the school lost a 12-year championship streak is all because I made you sleep on a couch?” you ask him.

He takes a step towards you. “You really want me to stay?” His voice was low.

“Yes,” you say. “We’re mature adults. Despite everything, we can just…share a bed for one night, right?”

He’s silent for a moment. “I think you trust me a little too much.”

Your face felt hot. “Are you telling me that I shouldn’t?”

“I’m telling you that you should really think this through,” he says.

“Just stay. Please.” The tone to your voice came off much more desperate than you would’ve liked.

He looks at you like the last thing in the world he could say right now was no. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

“Positive?”

“Satoru.”

“Okay,” he says, walking past you into the room, like he wasn’t really in the mood to argue about it anymore.

You sigh, sulking your shoulders a little bit, and watch as he takes a seat at the desk and continues to click through things on his laptop, occasionally sipping on the cup of coffee he had made for himself, as if your presence here was no unnatural thing. 

This all felt so domestic for you. This feels like the most intimate the two of you have been with one another, despite the fact he’s literally made you cum with his tongue before. 

“Who drinks coffee at this hour?” you ask, crouching down to unzip your suitcase, opening it up to find your cosmetics bag and a fresh pair of clothes to change into.

“Caffeine doesn’t really affect me anymore.” His eyes were still stuck on his laptop screen.

“You sound dead inside,” you comment, standing back up straight. You step over your suitcase that was on the floor and head into the bathroom, about to close the door but you open it enough to peer over at him from inside. “I’m going to take a shower,” you announce.

You see him poke his tongue to his cheek, leg bouncing up and down underneath the desk, and he squints at his laptop screen like there’s something so damn important that he must concentrate on or else the entire universe would collapse inside of a black hole. “Cool. Have fun.”

“I will.” 

“I’m glad.”

“No peeping.”

“There’s a lock on the bathroom door. Feel free to use it.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.” And then you’re shutting the door. 

It felt nice to freshen up, especially after that long journey, and then you’re doing your skincare in the mirror while you’re wrapped in a towel, trying to forget the fact that the man you quite seriously have immense feelings for is somewhere outside that door just a few feet away in this small hotel room. You spray a spritz of your perfume onto your skin, something there’s literally no point in doing before bedtime, but you still do it…for no particular reason at all, obviously. 

When you step back out into the room, Gojo’s eyes are instantly on you from where he stood near the closet. He takes in your appearance and lets out a laugh, looking at you with amusement.

“What?” you ask.

“You look so cute,” he says, “with your little sloth pajamas.”

You’re fully blushing as you make your way over to the armchair in the room to set your cosmetics bag down on it to sort through the mess you’ve just made of it. “Don’t call me cute,” you scold, searching for your lip balm. 

You could feel his frown from behind you. “You don’t like it?” 

“No. I love it.”

“I’m not following.”

You turn around to face him. “Satoru. You promised me you wouldn’t lead me on anymore. That includes teasing me or complimenting me.”

He looks at you incredulously. “What? I can’t even call you cute? This fucking sucks.”

“Your problem,” you say.

“So you’re cool with sharing a bed, but you’re not cool with me complimenting you,” he lays it out.

“We’re sharing this bed out of the kindness of my own heart,” you say to him, “because I care oh-so-very-much about your soccer career, and understand how important good sleep is for an athlete’s performance. I’m just that considerate of a person.” You point a strict finger at him. “But for your information, if you touch me while we’re in bed, I’ll kill you.”

“Hm. Not sure if I feel threatened or turned on right now,” he says.

You roll your eyes and finally zip up your cosmetics bag, set it on the table then make your way to the left side of the bed. When you glance at the nightstand, you notice Gojo has his wallet, his phone and his charger all situated there.

“Why’s your stuff here?” you ask him.

“Huh? Oh, I was going to sleep on that side,” he says to you.

“I usually sleep on the left side,” you tell him.

“But I usually sleep on the left side.”

You blink at him.

“I–…I’ll sleep on the right side,” he suggests, shoulders tense and on edge.

“Okay,” you shrug, and move his stuff.

Gojo spends some time freshening up in the bathroom too, and when he comes out he looks like he’s actually tired, and you feel like it’s the first time you’ve seen him look as worn out as he probably should be for someone as busy as him. You’re already settled under the sheets, the duvet pulled all the way up to your chin as you lay on your back. He comes up to the right side of the bed, checking his phone for a few minutes while standing and rubbing at the back of his neck, then plugs his phone into the charger. He grabs the sheets, about to pull them back, when he pauses and looks at you.

“Are you su-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure about this one more time, I will no longer feel sorry for you, and will make you go sleep on the love-stained couch,” you threaten him.

He grimaces at your choice of words and pulls the sheets back, slipping himself into bed. “Why do you have to put it like that? You’re gross. Also, I’m pretty sure this bed has seen less-than-holy things too.”

The only lighting in the room came from the warm, dim bulb of the night lamp at Gojo’s nightstand. An incredibly awkward silence settles between the two of you. Or maybe it’s just awkward for you, because he seems fine. He’s on his back too, looking up at the ceiling, practically motionless but there’s the faintest sound of his breathing every once in a while and it’s a sound you’ve never heard in such detail before.

He turns his head to you, but you don’t meet his gaze just yet. You shuffle a little bit, hip bumping against his side, elbow hitting his arm. He’s masculine next to you, shoulders hard, muscles heavy, but when you finally turn your head to glance at him and see the expression on his face, you realize that everything about him was rigid—except for the way he was looking at you.

“When did you sneak it in?” he asks.

“Sneak what in?” 

“The can of strawberry vanilla soda. Into my bag.”

You swear your heart stills a little in your chest. 

“Before,” is all you say to him.

He sighs. “y/n…”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to feel bad for me. I wanted you to have it, regardless of how I thought my confession would go,” you assure.

It’s hard to read his expression from the side while he’s looking up at the ceiling, but it’s softer than it was a second ago. The need to change the subject consumes you.

“Why do you have calluses on your fingertips?” you ask him. “You’re a soccer player, you don’t use your hands for anything.”

“I play the guitar,” he replies simply.

You perch yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with interest. His eyes flicker to your face. “Really?”

“No. I was just kidding. Hate the way you got excited though. I might have to pick up a guitar now.”

“Can you just answer me?” you sigh, flopping down onto your back again.

He laughs a little, a sound you feel like you could get drunk on at this point. He lifts his head up off the pillow enough to tuck his right hand underneath it, then rests it back down. You wish there was a mirror on the ceiling so you could see the flex of his arm. “Coach has us do the rock climbing wall at the gym at least once a week for practice. He thinks it’s a good workout. Causes a hell of a lot of skin tear though.”

“That’s it? That’s the reason?”

“Mhm.”

You shake your head, “You should learn how to play the guitar, because that’s a lame reason to have calluses.”

He lifts his head up off the pillow again and brings the hand that was tucked under his nape to in front of his face and he just looks at it. You look at it too. “Why are you so obsessed with the state of my hands? 

“A girl can’t be curious?” you ask.

“They’re not that bad.” You wonder if you’ve made him self-conscious. 

You watch the way he flexes his fingers open and then closed. He turns it around, and you can see the veins trailing down from the valleys of his knuckles, disappearing into the fabric of his long sleeve. You remember that party, the two of you in that bathroom, when his hands were all over you, and it’s suddenly a little hard to breathe. He turns his hand again so the palm faces him, but now it’s also slightly turned towards you too.

“They’re bad here,” you say, pointing to his ring finger where you see slight peeling at the tip. The padded skin of your finger touches his skin. “A little bad here, too.” You point to his index finger, careless enough to allow all of your fingers to brush against his this time.

He watches you. “Your hands are really small,” he comments, like it was a marvel to him.

You look over at him briefly, and there’s not a single sign of tension in his face as he observes the image of your hand next to his hand in the air above him. He looked like he was at peace.

“Yours are just big,” you tell him. 

He knows he’s not supposed to, and you really shouldn’t have let him, but he interlocks his fingers with yours regardless, holding onto your hand. You feel the roughness of those calluses all across your soft skin. His thumb runs over the curve of your knuckle, almost in a soothing way, like he was trying to apologize to you for something. And this was the only way he knew how. 

Something sobers him up, because he suddenly pulls his fingers from yours and drops his hand to the duvet. Your hand lingers in the air for a few seconds before you do the same. And now you’re both awkwardly staring up at the ceiling again.

“Sorry,” he says, barely above a whisper.

“It’s okay,” you whisper too.

The silence settles for longer.

He sighs. “It’s not you, it’s me,” he says out of nowhere.

“Huh?” you turned your body a little to face him, and he was looking up at the ceiling as if there was something across the texture that he was trying to decipher.

“I don’t want you thinking that the reason I can’t-,” he pauses, to think carefully about his words, “...that the reason I can’t return your feelings is because of you, or anything you’ve done. It’s been a while since I’ve liked anyone to be honest, and I’m just really not looking to date right now.”

You’re hurt by his words. Because even if he didn’t want to date anyone, you thought that he would’ve at least tried to for you. You thought that he had at least some feelings that the two of you could’ve worked off of. “Why don’t you want to date anyone?”

“Reasons.”

“Obviously. What reasons?” you prod. When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “If it’s something traumatic, I get it. My hamster died in the fourth grade,” you say, “I’ve never known peace since.”

He turns onto his side to face you with a soft and amused smile on his face. “Sorry to hear that. What was your hamster’s name?”

You try not to feel hot from the burn of his gaze and you turn onto your back to look up at the ceiling again. “Mr. Guilmon,” you say.

“Like…guilmon from digimon?

“Mhm.”

“You like digimon?”

“Oh yeah, I used to watch it all the time when I was a kid. My mom wanted to name my hamster ‘Scout’ but I refused,” you tell him, blinking a few times as the memories from your childhood come back to you. A small smile makes its way onto your face.

“I love digimon,” he says, fast, like he couldn’t contain it. 

“Really?” you give him a sidewards glance, a little surprised.

He hesitates slightly before sighing, turning over in the opposite direction to reach for his wallet on his nightstand. You feel the fabric of the duvet stretch across you from the movement, and you remember just how intimate this all felt. He’s laying on his back again, holding his wallet up in the air with both hands as he flips it open, then slides his credit card up out of the slot, and shows it to you. Digimon themed. You have to purse your lips together to hold back your laughter.

He turns his head to look at you when you can’t help but let a little noise escape your mouth, and you can see through the laughter-induced sheen of tears in your eyes that he’s frowning.

“Hey–”

“I’m sorry–” you're fully laughing at this point, hand over your mouth to try to contain yourself, “it’s just– oh my god— you’re the last person I would’ve expected to have been such a nerd.” 

“I’m not a nerd–” he tries to argue but you snatch the card out of his hand to study it closer, and also to memorize the numbers on the back.

“Popular soccer boy Gojo Satoru,” you’re giggling, “has a custom Digimon credit card.”

When he tries to reach for it, you stretch your arm off to the left. His weight leans on you, chest pressing against the curve of your shoulder, arm extending across you as he tries to grab his card back. “Quit it,” he mutters. 

“No,” you say, holding it further to your left, weakly trying to push him away from you.

“Quit it,” he repeats, face scowling now with what looks like embarrassment, and he holds his upper body up by the elbow, leaning over you even more to reclaim it, “or else.”

“Or else, what?” you say through wheezes, and it seems like something in him snaps because suddenly he grabs your wrist, hard, pinning it down onto the mattress, holding it there next to your head, and his entire upper body is towering over you. Shocked, you’re breathing fast, your eyes darting across his face, and he’s looking at you with a furrowed brow and a tense jaw.

“Or else I won’t keep my promise,” he says through a harsh breath, his voice low and rough.

You’re stunned underneath him. “What promise?” you ask, breathlessly. 

He leans down closer, to the point where the fringe of his hair brushes against your forehead. “My promise to hold myself back from you.”

You swallow hard, chest heaving. You feel the heat of his hand on your wrist burning through to your veins. You try to squirm slightly in his grip, but he just presses your wrist down further into the mattress.

He glances at your lips, eyes dilated and stern, and leans down even closer to you. “Do you have any idea how bad I’ve been wanting to punish you for leaving me in that bathroom by myself?” he says in a voice so husky you feel the arousal build at your center the second your head registers it.

You can’t find your words. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, as if to make sure yours stay on his too, and you’re docile under him until he’s distracted you enough to pinch his credit card between two of his fingers and discretely pull it out from your grip. He then lets go of your wrist and disappears out of your line of sight when he flops back down onto the mattress next to you, tucking his card back into his wallet.

“But I won’t. Because I’m a nice person, and will respect your space. Or whatever.” 

You don’t know what to say, your hand finding a place over your heart as you try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

“We should probably go to sleep,” he sighs after a minute, tossing his wallet back onto the nightstand and reaching over to turn off the light.

It’s dark now in the room, the only light coming from through the layered fabrics of the curtains. It's a cold light, possibly from the moon and maybe some dim neighboring white street lights, but it’s enough to where you could still see the slight texture of the ceiling, and maybe his face.

You both spend a few minutes trying to get comfortable. You try not to bump your butt against him, or brush your chest against his arm, but it happens a couple times anyway, and you mentally curse yourself for it. The rise of the duvet fabric from his chest becomes shallow with his breathing, and you think he’s fallen asleep, but then the two of you turn over at the exact same time, facing each other, eyes flying open and gazes meeting. It startles the both of you, but neither of you look away or say a word. The two of you just sit in the moment for what feels like hours, and very could’ve easily been. 

You’re the first to break the silence. “You know, there was a time where I thought that you weren’t even real.” You’re speaking hushed, like you’re afraid someone will hear, even though there’s only two souls in this room right now.

“What?” he asks, a slight raise to his eyebrow. “...why.”

“I don’t know. You’re like this urban legend around campus. You probably don’t know it, since you’re in it, but the world you’re in is very different from the world the rest of us students are in.”

He’s silent for a moment, his face being briefly illuminated by the reflection of a car’s headlights on the windows of the surrounding building. “I think I know what you mean.”

You blink at him. “I thought you would have a few more follow-up questions to that, but I guess you’re surprisingly self-aware.”

He hums to himself. “I think I can just put it into perspective.”

“Perspective?” you ask. You’re hanging onto every single one of his words tonight. You don’t want a single one of them slipping through you, not understood.

“Yeah,” he says, “there are moments where I feel like I’m not in that world anymore. And it feels nice. To get out of it.”

You want to ask him when those moments are, but he’s quick to speak again.

“I guess that means I’m aware of the moments where I am in it, so I know that it exists, if that makes sense? I don’t know.” He looks down at your pajamas, at the dancing sloth at the front, and the crease to his brow relaxes slightly. 

“Mhm, makes sense.”

His eyes are back on you, studying. There’s a strange look on his face that you can’t really comprehend. “I want to know about your world,” he says.

You breathe in deep, and exhale shallow. “My world is simple. I want to be a filmmaker and then live in a little cottage.”

He smiles at you. “A little cottage?”

“Yeah,” you say, “maybe in the countryside. The Italian countryside. With my own garden in the backyard so I can use fresh zucchini in my salads.”

“Any animals? Pets?” he asks, like he’s envisioning it all in his head too. 

“Maybe some chickens,” you say, “I promised Mr. Guilmon I’d name another one of my pets after him someday. I have to keep my promise.”

He nods. “You do.”

There’s another silence, but it doesn’t feel awkward this time.

“Did you turn your photos in to your professor?” he asks.

“Yeah, I did,” you tell him. “Earlier this week.”

“Nice. What about your reference for grad school?”

“I asked him for it.”

“Oh?” His eyebrows raise. “How’d it go?”

“Mm…I was really nervous, but it went well. He said he’d do it.”

There’s such a tenderness to his expression that you feel so compelled to kiss him right now. “That’s awesome. I’m proud of you. That’s one step closer to your dream.”

You purse your lips together from his words, sitting with the warm feeling in your chest. You want to thank him again, but instead all you say is “we’re even now.”

He lets out a small chuckle. It comes from his throat. “You’ve said that so many times.”

“I know.” Because you can’t believe it’s all over. This little arrangement between the two of you. You don’t want it to be over. “I can’t remember when the first time I said it was.”

“That night,” he answers you fast and with certainty, like it was at the forefront of his mind, “when you drove over rocks. And we sat together on the curb. And I realized how badly you take care of your car. You don’t need thousands of chain restaurant napkins in your glovebox, by the way. No matter how much you might think you do.”

“Wow. I was almost romanced by you for a second, but you ruined it,” you mumble.

You’re instantly taken back to that night. You remember the gentle quality in his eyes as he stared up at the stars, and you can still see the reflection of that sky in his eyes right now with the way he’s looking at you. 

“I really liked you that night,” you whisper, “I wish you were like that all the time.”

“Am I not like that all the time?” he asks, voice soft to match yours.

“No,” you say, “sometimes you’re mean.”

His eyes on you are gentle, somewhat careful. “I’m sorry for being mean.” 

You wonder if you can change his mind. If you can will him to like you back, if you can will him into wanting a relationship with you. You want to be his exception, not his rule.

“It’s okay. I’m mean sometimes, too,” you say, “mean to myself for sharing a bed with a guy that doesn’t like me.” He’s looking at your lips as you speak. “I’m bad like that.”

“You’re not bad,” is all he says.

“I am,” you say, and you inch closer to him, until there’s hardly any space between the two of you. You look up at him, faces inches away. You feel so safe with him, and yet you also feel scared, because you like him so much that you would let him ruin you if he wanted to. You press a flat palm to his shirt, searching for his heart, and you find that it’s beating fast in his chest. “I’m a bad woman, Satoru.”

“y/n,” he says, like a warning.

“I mean it,” you whisper.

“You said you’d kill me if I touch you,” he reminds you, sounding a little breathless.

“I can’t kill you, you’re way stronger than me,” you whisper, “so touch me.” Your hand is gripping onto the fabric of his shirt now, tight, with desire. He’s looking at you with a whole lot of desire too, but there was something else there as well. “Please.”

He wraps his hand around your wrist–the heat of his touch that you so badly wanted, craved, finally on you–but it’s to pull you away from him. Your grasp on his shirt releases and he brings your hand to the front of your chest, laying it down gently before letting it go. Your wrist lays limp there, missing his touch. Limp in front of your beating heart.

“Let’s just go to sleep, okay?” he says softly. 

Your eyes widen when you look at him, and you couldn’t even hide the hurt that settled across your face if you tried. Gaze dropping to his chest, you see the way it was rising with every breath he took, and for the second time in this life, you’ve felt so utterly rejected by him. You give him a compliant nod, and scootch back away from him before turning away. He stays as he is, watching your back, and you can feel his gaze on the nape of your neck. 

Counting the minutes to fall asleep felt exhausting, but the last thing you remember before you closed your eyes was the feeling of a tear trickling down onto your pillow, wet and cold against your cheek.

–

You wake up the next morning to an empty bed, and an even emptier feeling heart. There’s also this weird feeling of disappointment within you, and you don’t really know why.

Grabbing your phone on the nightstand, you quickly search for the email with the men’s soccer team practice schedule, and you see that they had a sharp 8am practice this morning before the game in the afternoon. The time reads 6:37am, and you’re wondering where Gojo went so early in the morning before heading off to the practice field.

You went back to sleep for a couple hours, and then woke up again. By the time you took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to the hotel lobby to eat breakfast, it was already 10:00am and it was time to make it to the field so you could set up and calibrate your camera prior to taking photos for the match. Following Utahime’s gameday instructions, you took a cab to the location with all of your gear.

The Kyoto soccer stadium was less of a stadium and more of an extremely large and open expanse of grass that had enormous silver metal stands stretching across the perimeter. It was something you would expect of an area in the countryside, but security was still somehow tight across the fenced off area. 

It was still a couple hours before the game, so the field was bustling with pre-game set-ups and the stands were empty. There were a few sports canopies being put up, as well as a small truck with workers that were working to stock up the hydration stations. A few men in suits were seated at tables with notepads and clipboards, looking busy in conversation and on what sounded like business calls. As you walk down the sidelines, you notice a few other people checking the distances between the goals and the chalk markings across the field. The stands were extremely close to all of the action, and when you look to the right, you see a couple of familiar faces there.

“Ah, y/n! We’re over here.”

You approach the group of three people, all seated on the lowest metal bench of one of the spectator sections. There were a bunch of tripods, cameras, cases, and laptops sprawled across in front of them. You recognize Hana and Minato, but you don’t recognize the other man sitting with them. You had met Hana and Minato at the game against Osaka last week, they were both professional photographers for the newsletter.

Hana hops off the bench and comes up to you. “It’s seriously so cool you’re here with us and that Utahime got you this gig,” she says to you with a smile. “Make sure your schedule is free on nights after matches, all us photographers usually get dinner together afterwards. You’re the baby out of us, so we’ll pay for you.”

You return her smile with one of your own. “That’s sweet, and sure I’ll try to.” 

You glance at the man whose name you didn’t know, your gaze meeting his, and soon enough he’s jumping up onto his feet too and making his way over to you.

“Ah, this is Kaito. Kai for short,” Hana says, gesturing to the man, and then to you.

Kai extends his hand out for you to shake. He’s tall and a bit lean. His style is really boyish—totally nailing the street photographer outfit with the white shirt underneath a flannel one, and some Carhartt pants paired with some Vans. You reach out to shake his hand, and he holds onto it for a second longer than you would’ve expected.

“Hi,” you greet him and tell him your name.

“That’s a nice name,” he says with a smile.

Hana claps her hands together. “Okay! We all know each other now, that’s great. We should get started prepping before the players get here, I believe they’re scheduled to be here in an hour.” She walks over to the benches and picks up her digital camera. Minato grabs his as well as his tripod, then walks over to Hana’s side. “The way we usually do it is to split the field into corners, and each of us works that perimeter. The videographers are here too, so just make sure you don’t accidentally knock over or stand in front of one of their cameras.”

All three of you nod at her and you unzip your case to take your film camera out. Kai is next to you, looking at the device in your hands curiously.

“Kai, you can work with y/n for today since it’s her first day. Split up those two corners over there,” Hana says, pointing to the other end of the field. You and Kai look in that direction. “Minato and I will take the other short end.”

With a few more discussions and detailed instructions, the four of you disperse to your assigned locations. You’re a step ahead of Kai, although he should really be the one leading your stride since you’re the new one here, but he soon enough catches up to you.

“Is that a Canon AE-1?” he asks you, pointing to your camera.

You look at him a little surprised. “Yeah, it is. As vintage as they get.”

“Sweet, I used to shoot on film too. Second-hand?” 

“No, third. Still cost me an arm and a leg, though,” you sigh.

He laughs. “They’re not that expensive.”

“I’m a broke college student. I sometimes have to choose between paying rent and eating food,” you say to him.

He kicks at a random can on the grass, sending it flying forward, instead of picking it up. “Yeah, definitely don’t miss those days.”

“When did you graduate?” you ask.

“From UTokyo two years ago,” he says. 

You bend over to pick up the can he kicked and jog a little to the trashcan nearby, tossing it in, then jog back to him. “That’s nice. You’ve been doing this for two years?”

“Yup,” he says to you as the two of you reach the corner of the field outlined by freshly drawn chalk. He kneels down on the grass, sets his camera case down, and opens it up. Your jaw drops.

“Is that a—Leica camera?” you ask him, shocked.

He smirks up at you. “Sure is.”

“Oh, so you’re just rich, then,” you sit down on the grass to look at it with interest, marveling at its condition.

“Nope. I’ll bet I got it for cheaper than your Canon there,” he points to the camera hung at your neck.

You meet his gaze. “No way.”

“Way,” he says, pulling out the attachable lens before wiping at it with a microfiber cloth, “I know a guy. He sells used cameras. The only issue is you’ve gotta refurbish them yourself.” 

You sigh. “Wonderful. Because I would know how to do that.”

He lets out a half-laugh, and you glance up briefly to look at his expression. He was amused. “It’s pretty easy, just gotta do it once. And then you’ll have a used Leica that works brand-new, all for just under a hundred-thousand yen.”

You’re looking at him with surprise again. “That cheap?”

“Yup.”

“Wow…” Your finger plays with the lens cap on your camera.

“If you want, I can send you his info. But if you want to meet up with him, it’ll probably have to be facilitated through me,” Kai says, “He takes clients by recommendation. No use in selling a used camera to an idiot that doesn’t know how to refurbish it. He’s looking for niche photographers that have the interest.”

You press your lips together, considering it. “Sure.”

He hands his phone to you. “Alright, gimme your number.”

You hesitate for a second before typing your number into his contacts then hand it back and watch as he saves it in his phone. “Canon girl. Won’t forget ya.”

The two of you make work for a second, eyeing the field and mapping out angles of where to get the best shots during play. Kai gives you some pointers and you’re marveling at how good they are.

“Not really used to shooting on film anymore,” he mumbles, peering through the hole on your camera when you handed it over to him, “but usually a one over five-hundred shutter speed works well for sports. I’d switch between that and over two-fifty though, to avoid a blurry finish.”

“Thanks,” you say to him, wanting to write all this down to not forget it. “Wish I knew this last week.”

“Why shoot on film?” he asks out of nowhere, handing your camera back to you. “Why not digital?”

“Oh, it’s a personal interest,” you say to him, adjusting your shutter speed as he suggested, “I think there’s a charm to it. I want to be a movie maker, and shoot on film medium.”

He frowns at you. “How are you going to do that?”

You tilt your head at him, shuffling on the grass. “I’m going to apply to the film graduate program at UTokyo to start.”

He laughs at that from where he’s seated across from you. “Really? That’s a waste of your time.”

Your heart sinks a little in your chest from his tone. “Why would it be a waste of my time?”

He turns to face you more directly. “y/n, trust me, I know this career path. Been there, done that. Millions of film majors like yourself always have these big-ass dreams like ‘I want to become a director, I want to do screenplay’ etc., but only one or two of them actually succeed.” 

Your shoulders sulk. It’s not the first time you’ve heard those words from someone—your own parents practically recited them word-for-word before you headed off to college—but you had been doing really well all of senior year to ignore that nagging little voice in your head. It was honestly quite triggering to hear it all again right now. “Well, I think I can do it.”

He lets out a short scoff. “You sound real convincing there.” When he catches sight of your upset expression, he straightens his back a little. “My bad. Just trying to look out for you. I’m your senior in this industry. I know my way around these things. Trust me.”

You nod slowly. “I know. Thanks.” Part of you wonders if he’s just projecting.

“Well anyway,” he shrugs, “I think you should just focus on photography for now. It’s the safest career option for you to do.”

“I guess you’re right,” you say, wanting to diffuse the conversation.

The two of you disperse to your assigned corners once the stands start to fill with spectators. Shortly after, the players make their introductions onto the field, and you can see Gojo across the field. He’s too far to read his expression, but for some reason when you look at him, that disappointed feeling from this morning comes back to you. You try to push it down and just focus on your task at hand.

UTokyo does well during the match, and Gojo seems to be playing much better than the Osaka game last week, scoring two goals within the first half. There were a couple of times where there were throw-ins near your corner, and you made eye contact with him as he’s breathing heavily, wiping the sweat off his face with his jersey, and every time you look at him, that melancholic feeling washes over you again. UTokyo wins 3-2, the crowd evidently disappointed as they were rooting for their home team, and by the time the disgruntled fans started to clear the stands, the sun was setting over the horizon and the sky was a golden color.

The referees on the field begin to oversee the post-match proceedings with the players. Kai comes around to meet you at your corner, and Hana and Minato arrive there too.

“Hey team! How’d it go?” Hana asks, a little out of breath from her journey over here.

“Went fine,” Kai responds.

“It was a little tricky,” you comment, “but I think my photos came out well.”

Hana nods. “Alright, sounds good. Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

Kai and Minato nod, and then all three sets of eyes are on you. You hesitate for a moment, and look off past them to where you see the group of soccer players in conversations with the coaches and referees. You see Gojo standing there, his hands on his hips as he peered across the field, tilting his neck to the side repeatedly, and you realize he had been doing that all match long. That unsettling feeling within you starts to brew once again. “Uh, I’m really sorry, but I’m not feeling very well. I think I might just head back to the hotel.”

Hana and Minato nod at you with a concerned expression, while Kai just looks disappointed.

“Okay, well, I hope you feel better,” she says.

You end up taking an Uber back to the hotel in haste, not wanting to run into Gojo or any of the other soccer players after their match, and make it to the room, using the key card that Gojo gave you to get inside. You take a shower to freshen up, and by the time it’s 7pm, you’re starving. You put on a simple outfit and make it downstairs into the lobby of the hotel, about to go peruse the nearby dining options, but right when you step out of the elevator, you run into Gojo.

There’s a look of pleasant surprise on his face and you take in his appearance. He was still wearing his soccer jersey, covered in grass and dirt stains, and his face was slightly flushed from exertion. You figured he just came back from the field.

“Hey,” he says, “sorry, I was just about to head over there.” He jerks his head off towards the lobby, and you glance in that direction. There was a group of maybe thirty people gathered around the lounging areas and high-tables over at the business suite, and you recognize them as UTokyo’s soccer players, along with Coach Yaga and other team staff. The players were still all clad in their uniforms, carrying all their stuff, and there were plays of today’s game rerunning across the TV screens. You realize they’re probably prepping for interview questions for tomorrow’s conference.

“Oh, please, go ahead,” you say to him.

He tilts his head at you. “Are you doing alright?” 

You were aware that things might feel awkward after last night, and that your cheeks would probably feel hot like they do now the next time you had to talk to him. Your mind takes you back to the memories, when you think about how badly you wanted him to stay with you in the room because of that hollow feeling in your chest from missing him, despite how you knew it was bad for you. Because this man standing in front of you doesn’t like you in the way that you like him. 

And then it clicks. The reason for that feeling of disappointment you’ve had since the moment you woke up today.

When you glance up at Gojo this time, you see him differently than you had from a second ago. You finally notice the slight dark circles under his eyes, and figure out that the reason he’s been tilting his neck to the side all day was because he was trying to stretch out a kink. You vaguely recall that moment you woke up in the middle of the night, and your sleepy brain registered that there was no longer the dip of him in the mattress next to you.

“When did you leave the room?” you ask him. You know your voice is quiet when he has to lean down a bit to hear you.

He takes his time answering, indulging in a few breaths. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” you say, starting to sound hostile, “you left during the night, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it.

“You left once I fell asleep,” you say, eyes widening with realization.

He sighs. “Yes.”

“Where did you go to sleep?” you ask, trying to keep your tone level.

“Suguru’s room had an extra couch. I pushed them together.”

You felt sick and sad, feeling something worse than rejection right now. There was a part of you that still thought that all of this from him was just a joke. A prank. That he was finally going to say just kidding, I like you too. The reason you’ve been so disappointed since the minute you woke up today was because there was a part of you that thought you were going to wake up this morning with his arms wrapped around you, back pressed tight to his chest while he whispers sweet nothings in your ear of how much he likes you, of how much he wants you, of how much he wants to be with you.

“Why? Even after I said I didn’t want you to have bad sleep?” Your voice was laced with hurt. You didn’t even know how to explain to him why it upset you, because deep down you’re scared it isn’t even valid.

“It’s fine,” he says, “I played fine today. And we won.”

“You could’ve stayed. Do you really hate me that much?” Your words are shooting to kill now. “So I’m good enough to finger in a bathroom at a frat party, but not good enough to sleep next to?”

He furrows his brow. “I don’t understand why we’re arguing about this,” he says, tone starting to match yours, “you’re the one that wanted space. I was just trying to respect that.”

“If you really wanted to respect my space, you wouldn’t have agreed to share the bed with me in the first place.”

“y/n,” he says, “that’s not fair.”

“You should’ve known better.” You’re breathing fast, tone searingly accusive. “You know that I’m trying to get over you, and that I’m vulnerable, and that I’m probably confused about a lot of things right now.”

“I ask if we could at least be friends, you say no because it’d be some recipe for disaster, then you practically beg me to stay with you and tell me to touch you while we’re laying down together. You don’t think that’s confusing for me too?” he counters.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment at the memory of your desperate actions last night, and he instantly looks apologetic. You feel like you’re being unfair, but you feel like he’s being unfair too.

“I’m the one with feelings,” is all you say in your defense.

He swipes at his chin roughly with the back of his hand, smudging the dirt up to his cheek, and then closes his eyes for a second, like the weight of today has finally hit him all at once. He looks exhausted. “Right,” he says, softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Yo, Satoru!” one of his teammates yells from the center of the lobby. “Coach needs you, man.”

He rubs a hand down his tired face then throws a haphazard glance over his shoulder. “Yeah, I’ll be there in a sec,” he calls out and then looks back at you. You can’t make eye contact with him, and just stare at the print on his jersey instead. “I’ll sleep in Suguru’s again tonight. The room is yours.”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel like you’re about to cry. “Okay.”

He reaches into his shorts pocket and gives you a room card. “Here’s the spare. I don’t need to come grab my stuff for the night, so don’t worry.”

“Okay.”

He sounds like he wants to say more, and you see him take a small step towards you, hand reaching out for you, but this time Coach Yaga’s stern voice is calling out to him too. He sighs. “Good night.”

“Mhm. Thanks.”

He hesitates before he turns on his heel and you watch his back, with that signature #10 stretched across the fabric of his uniforn, as he jogs through the hotel lobby to his teammates.

The walk back to the hotel room is depressing, and you find yourself dragging your feet all the way there. Once you make your way inside, you look around at the room and see some of Gojo’s belongings scattered around, but it didn’t seem like there were any of his essentials. You look down at the spare key card in your hand–a promise from him that he won’t try to upset you anymore tonight–and that lump in your throat from earlier comes back. 

You hated fighting with him. You hated being away from him. Those feelings that you thought would go away just as fast as they came still sat so stubbornly within your heart, and it was becoming impossible to bear. 

You wonder if meeting him was all just some horrible, twisted mistake. 

Before you have time to dwell on that sad sentiment, your phone screen lights up with a message.

|| 7:52pm unknown number: kinda sucks you’re not here with us. was looking forward to showing you more of my camera

|| 7:53pm unknown number: this is kai by the way

The features of your face feel heavy as you look down at your phone screen. You don’t even notice your eyes are teary until you realize the blur of your vision makes it hard to see the letters as you type out a response.

You just wanted a distraction from all this pain.

|| 7:54pm you: can you send me the address? i wanna be there

a/n. grrrr i love a one-bed trope so much grrrrrrrrr it's gonna do it for me every damn time lol. thanks a bunch for reading!! there's still so much that i've got planned for the series haha i think the second half is gonna be a lot crazier than the first. super excited to write it though. by the way! i'm starting a choso x reader zombie au series, if you'd like to read more about it and/or be added to the taglist, you can reply to this post here also if you want to be added to taglist in general, i'd recommend making sure your tags are on!! since i've noticed a lot of people have them off

➸ take me to chapter nine!

taglist: @who-can-touch-my-boob @therealestpussyeater @lost-resonance @hojoslutoru @foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @bsdicinindirdim @tsukikourito @getitsatoru @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @btszn @prince-wyiilder @semra4 @gojosimp26 @drthymby @ninitoru @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010 @bakuhoethotski @horisdope @sykostyles @aquaberrydolphin @colouringfrogssittinginleaves @ri-sa20 @purplehallow11 @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @bxddiebloss @chwesuh-imnida @mo0nforme @viware @still-fking-single @megumisthirdog @gintokhi @karvokr @cierocanteat @imjustaweirdnerd (hope i didn't miss anyone thank u all sm!!)

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 11 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, this chapter contains mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: cursing, alcohol, minor character ghosting everyone, cheating?, explicit content: a spicy videocall, mutual masturbation?, fingering/jerking off, sex toy (vibrator)

☆word count: 8.4k

☆a/n: this one hurts, but I hope you'll still love it :') thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Tuesday, April 30th 

You’ve been lost in thought for hours - every hour feels like a whole day, and you can’t focus on what Ria is saying right now. She went off while speaking about Seokjin, but all you’re able to do is look out the vitrine of the café where you’re sitting along with Nabi. It’s raining - you think it’s fitting now that Jungkook is gone.

He’s texted you throughout the day, more than he usually does. It’s been reassuring, yet you feel like there is finality in the world today, in the way raindrops chase each other on the glass of the vitrine like you used to chase cars around Jungkook’s head. You haven’t replied to his last text message, haven’t even opened it yet.

You don’t dare to when you’re sitting with your friends.

“Are you even listening?” Ria’s annoyed voice cuts through your thoughts, and you startle, looking at her.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

She groans loudly, and then says, “What do you think about Seokjin?”

You widen your gaze, holding in a smile. “Why do you want to know?”

“He’s annoying, right?” she says.

“Is that why you’ve been spending all of your free time with him?” Nabi interjects, earning a glare from Ria.

“I have not.”

“You certainly have,” Nabi insists. “Both you and Y/n have been MIA to study sesh during the finals because you were with your boyfriends.”

Your heart drops to your stomach, your throat drying. “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

Nabi and Ria both throw you a no-bullshit look, but Ria loses it first, saying, “And I’m not dating Seokjin.”

“Where were you yesterday?” Nabi asks.

The prolonged silence is revealing, and you burst out laughing at the same time as Nabi.

“It doesn’t mean anything!” Ria says.

You pick up your smoothie, taking a long sip from it as Nabi says, “Obviously not. That’s why you have a hickey on your neck.”

You choke on your sip as Ria blushes, yet in pure Ria fashion, she wiggles her eyebrows. “What about it? At least I’m not fucking my brother’s best friend and lying about it even though everyone in the world literally knows.”

You put down your drink, gaze widening. “That was low.”

“Deserved though,” Ria insists, folding her arms on her chest.

There’s no animosity to the way she is speaking. Just amusement, and a teasing undertone that strikes a nerve now that he’s in Paris and the future of your relationship is so uncertain.

“For what?” you let out, looking towards Nabi for help. She pretends she isn’t listening, looking down at her empty latté mug, but you see on her face how she’s waiting for you to say something. “Tae wouldn’t let it happen.”

“Tae was gone for the semester,” Ria points out. “And you spent a lot of time with Jungkook, and he always drove you home and shit. We know, babes, I don’t know why you try to pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“You’re just trying to get the conversation away from you and Seokjin!”

It’s a weak comeback, but it’s all you can do.

“For real, even though I might be sleeping with Jin,” Ria says, introducing a nickname you’ve never heard her say before, “I’m not into him for more than that. But you and Jungkook…”

You feel like throwing your smoothie at her, but you choose peace and remain silent.

“So you are fucking Seokjin,” Nabi chimes in, throwing you a lifeline you immediately grasp on.

Ria shrugs. “So what if I am?” she asks. “It’s just sex.”

You think about Seokjin, about the forlorn look in his eyes whenever you’re out in public, and she flirts with other people. You highly doubt it’s just sex for him, but he’s too respectful to tell Ria, isn’t he?

“Is it though?” you say.

Ria nods forcefully. “At least to me it is. If it’s not the case for him then that sounds like his problem, not mine.”

You wince in time with Nabi, and she says, “That’s mean, Ri.”

She throws her hands up in defence. “What do you want me to say? I don’t like him like that.”

That’s fair enough. You can’t force a heart to love, like you’d realized last November with Hoseok. 

No matter how much you’d tried to love him, you’d never even had butterflies with him. Maybe even then you knew that true love wasn’t to be found with Hoseok, but with Jungkook instead…

“He’s great though,” Nabi says. “He’s got a solid research grant.”

“I’m not a nerd like you guys. I don’t care about his research grant”

You snort. “You so are a nerd. You like anime.”

“Anime isn’t for nerds,” she insists. Which, you totally agree with the statement. You’ve watched a couple of them with Jungkook, and you found each and every one of them fun to watch.

But Ria doesn’t need to know that.

“Yeah yeah,” you say. “Keep telling that to yourself.”

She glares at you, but Nabi intervenes with, “Why wouldn’t you care about the grant? It’s really good for him.”

Ria shrugs, falling serious. “Because I don’t care about him like that. He’s just a good fuck.”

Ria’s always been like this. Ever since you’ve met her, she’s always been the type to sleep around, and you’ve always encouraged her for it, as it was helping her get over the fact that she was cheated on. Yet right now you feel bad for Seokjin - maybe because you know he’s into her, and you wish for her the happiness you’ve been experiencing with Jungkook.

Happiness that is now on hold, possibly never to resume.

“Fair enough,” you say, and you grab your smoothie to finish it, taking two long sips.

“What about you and Jungkook?” Ria then asks, and she smirks victoriously.

You put the empty smoothie glass away, sighing deeply. “Honestly right now there’s nothing to tell.”

“Did you fuck him?”

You purse your lips, shrugging. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because it’s so obvious!” Ria says. “Your hair sometimes smells like cologne, and you can’t tell me it’s someone other than him. You would have told us if you were seeing someone else.”

“Not that I want to stir shit but…” Nabi trails off. “She’s got a point.”

“Leave me alone,” you grumble, though you don’t see the point in hiding it anymore.

It’s not like they might say something in front of Jungkook’s friends, who would then tell Taehyung. You’re planning to tell Taehyung the second he lands and crosses the threshold of your shared apartment after all.

“You’re blushing,” Ria teases.

“Because you’re putting me on the spot!” you say, shaking your head. “Leave me alone.”

“Oh no.” Ria’s face falls, and her mouth hangs open for a few seconds as her eyes go round. “Oh no, babes.”

“What?” you let out, sounding grumpier than you feel.

No, you just feel apprehensive as her whole demeanour changes.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

It falls like a hydrogen bomb, leaving nothing but dust behind. And you can’t answer. All you have to offer is a blink, and the sound of your heart shattering in the distance.

“Oh no,” Nabi cuts in. “Y/n, you know his reputation…”

“We’ve been together since Valentine’s Day,” you quickly say, only so that they stop before making you feel bad. You’ve gone down that road before, and you’ve long come back from it. “Or as together as we can be considering Tae.”

“Bitch you what?” Ria shrieks. “That’s insane. You were letting me go on and on about him while you were with him?”

“Wait, you’re with him like boyfriend-girlfriend?” Nabi asks before you can reply to Ria.

“I knew he wouldn’t get with you,” you say to Ria, and then you glance at Nabi. “And no, we’ve never really talked about it, or referred to it as boyfriend-girlfriend.”

“So, it’s a situationship then?” Ria asks.

Though the words pain you grandly, they ring true. Far too true for it to be comfortable. “I guess so. But… I know the feelings are reciprocated.”

You sound delusional, even to your own ears. Maybe because he’s on an entire other continent - out of sight, out of mind. But you saw his soft gaze whenever he looks at you. You were there when he kissed you by the door before leaving yesterday. 

I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work, he’d whispered.

And fuck, all you want to do is believe him, believe that there’s a way you truly can make it work.  

“I hope you’re right,” Nabi says, though she sounds infinitely doubtful.

You don’t blame her. They don’t truly know Jungkook - not like you do.

“Wait…” Ria repeats, though this time she continues with, “That means you were together with him when you went to New York.”

The extravagance of the luxurious condo where he’d grown up flashes before your eyes as you nod once. “Yeah.”

“Bitch!” Ria lets out. “I knew it! I can’t believe you pretended you guys were just friends then.”

Unable to stay silent anymore, you retell your relationship to your friends. You tell them everything - how it started, how it entirely changed in New York, what he’d whispered right before he’d left. You tell them everything, not mentioning the fact that Jungkook is rich, feeling like that isn’t your story to tell. 

You feel lighter after. Like finally being able to tell people has taken a weight off your shoulders. You reckon, you might start flying when Taehyung knows. When you don’t have to hide it from anyone anymore - you’ll be weightless, like a cloud in the sky up above.

It’s with that in mind that you head home for dinner, Nabi having something planned with Namjoon and Ria having to head to work. You check your phone as you walk home, safely hidden underneath your red umbrella.

[4:14 pm] JK: any chance we can facetime tonight?

It’s almost an hour later, yet Jungkook’s text makes butterflies flutter in your stomach, and you smile down at your phone as you reply with,

[5:07 pm] You: i’ll be home in 10 min, you still up?

Jungkook’s answer comes almost half an hour later when you’re trying to cook some noodles the same way that he showed you - a lot spicier than what you can handle, but spicy makes you think of him, so spicy it is.

[5:33 pm] JK: i’ll call you in two

You assume he needs to find a place to hide so that your brother doesn’t hear, and you apprehensively - in a good way obviously - wait for him to call as you gauge the amount of gochujang to put in your noodles. He ends up calling five minutes later, and you immediately answer, a bright smile on your lips.

Jungkook is smiling just as brightly when he comes into view, his eyes sparkling at the sight of you. He looks a little dazed, like maybe he’s had something to drink, but he still looks just as beautiful as he always has.

Even a phone camera cannot dim Jeon Jungkook’s beauty. 

His eyebrow piercing glints in the soft light on his side of the line, where he’s sitting outside. He toys at his lip piercings, glancing away from his phone for a few seconds before setting his gaze back on you.

“Hey peach,” he greets you.

Your heart is warm, gentle, when you reply, “Hey Kook.”

He notices you’re in the kitchen as you stir the noodles, and his gaze widens just a little as he says, “Are you cooking?” You flip the camera to show him your creation, and he nods approvingly. “You’re getting good at this,” he praises, and a light blush covers your cheeks.

“Only because I had the best teacher,” you say as you flip the camera back towards you.

He chuckles. “The best indeed.” There’s a pause as he glances around again, seemingly making sure that no one can hear, and then he asks, “What were you up to today?”

“I went to a café with Ria and Nabi,” you admit. Your cheeks burn even more, and you avert your gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, immediately noticing your unease.

“I might have told them about us,” you reveal, and you worry at your bottom lip.

You think he’ll be mad, upset, but instead he laughs, a clear sound that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “You’re adorable. I can’t wait to tell my friends either.”

“As soon as you come back,” you promise. “We’ll tell Tae the second he walks into the apartment.”

Jungkook nods vehemently. “I’m not waiting a second longer,” he agrees. “And if he’s pissed, we can just run into the sunset together.”

That makes you laugh, and Jungkook watches you, his eyes sparkling with amusement and what you want to believe is love.

“He will be pissed,” you warn him. “But we’ll figure it out.”

“We will.”

You fall silent as voices are heard on the other side of the line. They’re speaking French, so you can’t really tell what they’re saying, and you wait as Jungkook watches them walking by before focusing his eyes on you again. 

“Where are you?” you ask him.

“Just in a park outside of the Airbnb,” he replies. “Thought it might be better to call you while outside.”

“Good call.” You move the pot in which you’re cooking your noodles away from the heat on the stove, turning it off. “What did you do today?”

Jungkook tells you about his day as you pour your noodles in a bowl, and then sit at the table to eat. It’s too hot for the first few minutes, so you just listen as Jungkook tells you about his overnight flight, and about the struggle to find the Airbnb. He admits he napped for three hours straight when they finally got there, and that they went out for dinner after, coming home around the time he texted you earlier to Facetime.

The first bite of your noodles reveals that you might have made them a little too spicy, but under Jungkook’s watchful gaze, you make sure to eat everything, dousing the spice with the Yakult you’ve bought because Jungkook likes to mix it with soju.

“You know,” Jungkook says as you finish eating, your cheeks red with the spice. “I wish you were here with us. Seeing Sera and Jimin, and Ariane and Tae…” he trails off, offering you a sad smile. “I really wish you were here, peach.”

Your heart squeezes in your chest, and you offer him a small smile. “I really wish I was with you, too.”

A beat of silence passes, while you get lost in his gaze and he gets lost in yours. He furrows his brows a moment later, and he says, “Tae texted me to come back.”

“Oops,” you let out, and he chuckles softly.

“I don’t want to hang up though,” he says, and he pouts in that cute way of his.

“Keep me in your pocket then,” you challenge. “I’ll be mute as a rock.”

He cocks an eyebrow as he laughs. “I’ll turn off my volume just to be sure. I’ll try to hide in the bathroom or something.”

You approve of his plan, and a second later your screen goes dark as Jungkook does indeed hide you in his pocket. You move to your bedroom as you wait, and you hear noises coming from his side, though most of it is muffled by the fabric.

It takes almost ten minutes, but Jungkook pulls you out in a blindingly bright bathroom, the fan loud enough to hide your speaking.

“I’m back,” he says.

You chuckle. “Obviously.”

He narrows his gaze, and then scans your features. “You’re so pretty.”

The compliment takes you by surprise, and your cheeks turn red as you let out, “Oh.” You gulp, and then add, “Thank you.”

“And you might think I’m insane but, fuck, am I crazy for wanting you right now?”

Your blush deepens as you watch his gaze go from sparkly to lustful as he pulls on his piercings.

“Right now?” you repeat, feeling a little breathless all of a sudden.

He nods. “Yeah. I already miss how you feel when I’m balls deep inside of you.”

You roll your eyes, the redness lingering on your cheeks. “We had sex yesterday morning,” you remind him.

“Yeah, and?”

He’s insufferable. He’s insufferable and adorable and, if everything goes well, this man might be yours in a week.

It sets your nerves alight with reciprocated desire, and you bite at your lower lip. “Nothing,” you innocently say. “I’d definitely suck your dick right now though.”

His gaze hardens almost imperceptibly. “Peach.”

You smirk. “What?”

“Anything else you’d do?” he asks, and he shifts where he’s sitting.

“Mmh.” You pause, let the suspense linger. “Maybe I’d tie you up. You’re always trying to control everything, maybe you deserve to be put back into your place.”

“Shit.” You know your bold words had their effect on him when he shifts again, sucking on his piercings harder. He runs a hand through his hair, and then he says, “I’ll fuck you so hard when I come back, peach. I want to hear you screaming my name.”

“So loud Tae hears?” you tease.

He has the decency to look slightly embarrassed, yet you know him enough to know it probably just turns him on more. 

“Definitely,” he says. He inhales sharply, leaning back against the wall. “I’ll fill you up until you’re dripping with my cum.”

You’ve never had sex without a condom, but you remember that first night when he’d fingered you with his cum…

You’ve always been insane for him, haven’t you? 

You clench your thighs together, seeking friction, as you notice Jungkook moving to touch himself too. 

“You will?” you say, breathless.

He nods, and then he curses under his breath. “Now I’m hard for you.”

“Yeah?” you let out. “Show me.”

His eyes darken even more, and he chuckles lowly. “I don’t do nudes, peach.”

It surprises you so much that you lose your arousal for a few seconds, up until Jungkook grunts.

“Well, you’ll do it for me, mmh?” you tease, a smirk adorning your lips.

“You’d like that, huh?”

You would. A lot more than you should - you’ve never been big on nudes either. But… phone sex isn’t exactly nudes, is it?

“I would,” you say after a few seconds of debating if you should or should not do it. “I want to see you, Kook.”

The nickname undoes him. Jungkook sucks on his piercings, and then he moves, his camera blurring. You know he’s taken his pants off when he comes back on screen, his eyes swirling with lust for you.

“Why don’t you show me yourself first?” he asks.

You don’t even hesitate. You’re in bed after all, and ridding yourself of your clothes only takes about thirty seconds, as Jungkook listens to the rustle of the fabric.

You grab your phone when you’re fully naked, making sure that he can’t see anything yet.

“What do you want to see?” you ask, and you only then realize that Jungkook is shirtless, and from the motion in his bicep, he’s clearly jerking off.

You turn molten, liquid lava, like you’re the magma under the tectonic plates. 

“All of you,” he purrs. “I want to see all of you, peach.”

You oblige, propping your phone against a pillow as you lie against another pillow. Jungkook immediately moves his camera so that you can see how he’s stroking himself, and you let out a breathy sound as your hand slides between your legs, pressing lazy circles on your clit. Jungkook watches you hungrily, cursing under his breath.

“Fuck, I wish I could touch you right now,” he says, voice low and husky.

“I wish you could,” you echo.

He picks up his pace on his dick, wrist twisting when he’s close to the top, grip tight like you know he likes it. It’s sinfully beautiful, arousing, and your circles grow faster, quicker, desperate as you seek the pleasure only he can provide.

“Don’t be shy,” he says after a few seconds. “Use your vibrator.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and the second the toy is vibrating and buried inside you, you let out a low-clipped moan.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Jungkook says. “With your tattoo and just… fuck.”

You just answer with a moan that sounds like his name, and he curses again.

“You make me such a mess,” he says. “A fucking mess for you, peach.”

“Yeah?” you breathlessly let out.

“Fuck yeah.”

Your pussy makes squelching sounds as you push the toy in and out of yourself, the buzz a background to the lustful actions you’re partaking in. Jungkook’s camera isn’t quite angled on his dick anymore, but you don’t even care.

Not when you’re aware he’s watching you, drinking every little sound you emit as pleasure rakes through your body. The thought is far too enticing, arousing, and your walls clench around the toy.

“Shit, I’ll come so quickly,” you admit, not even embarrassed about it.

“Do it, peach,” Jungkook says. “Fucking come for me.”

You don’t need more, the crude words pushing you over the edge. You still the motions of the toy inside of you as your walls pulse and pulse, yet you keep drawing circles - slow again - as you milk your orgasm out of you. Jungkook watches it all like he’s starved for you, and when you finally pull your toy out of yourself, he’s the one that groans, “Fuck peach, I think I’ll come too.”

You don’t even have to say anything. He immediately comes, white spurts of cum shooting from his dick. The white cum covers his hand, his tattoos, and you almost want to start again, the sight so devilish yet so beautiful to you.

“Fuck,” Jungkook says, grunting as he keeps milking his climax out of himself, his pace barely slowed down. 

Eventually, his dick stops twitching, and Jungkook stops, hand wrapped around the base. You eye the cum still dripping from his hand, rolling down the back of it.

It’s pornographic. Deadfully so, and you bite at your lower lip.

“That was hot,” you breathe.

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathes, and he puts his phone down, revealing the ceiling and the light fixture. “It really was.”

You assume he’s cleaning himself up, so you quickly do the same, heading to the bathroom. 

Jungkook comes back into view when you’re on your way back to your room, and you feel shy under his gaze. Not embarrassed, but what just happened makes your heart skip beats and your cheeks burn, in all the right ways.

“We should do this again,” Jungkook says when you’re lying in bed once more, your vibrator cleaned and put away in your night table.

You smirk mischievously. “Wouldn’t you like that?” you tease.

He laughs, and it makes you miss him so much your heart squeezes in your chest.

He’s only been gone for a day, and you’re already going insane. You’re lucky it’s just a week - in six days he’ll be back, and hopefully you’ll never have to be apart again.

“I would,” he says, and he offers you a lopsided grin that makes you want to hold onto him, forever.

You take a deep breath around the emotion as it swells up in your chest, in your soul. The smile you offer him is warm, filled with all the feelings that your heart hosts for him, and he immediately reciprocates.

“Can’t wait for you to be back,” you admit, voice small as if you’re afraid he’ll reject you.

You know he won’t - you’re creating that universe where it makes sense for you to be together after all.

“Soon, peach,” he promises. “And then I’ll annoy your ass until you don’t like me anymore.”’

As if that would be possible. 

“Good luck with that.” 

He chuckles softly, and it breaks into a yawn, reminding you that, even though he’s just on the other side of the screen, he’s in an entirely different timezone, and he’s likely still jet-lagged from his overnight flight.

“Tired?” you ask.

He nods. “I’ll go to bed as soon as we hang up,” he says. “We’re visiting the Louvres tomorrow.”

Your phone vibrates in your hand as a text comes in, but you can’t read the text at the top of your screen before it disappears. You switch to your messages app, brows furrowed.

“Where did you go?” Jungkook whines.

Your heart drops to your ass as you read the text once, twice, trying to make sense of it.

[6:07 pm] Yoongi: hobi left and blocked me

A second text comes in just a few seconds later.

[6:08 pm] Yoongi: he didn’t even say goodbye

You immediately switch to your conversation with Hoseok, and you ask him what’s up, but the text remains green despite the fact that the rest of the conversation is filled with blue bubbles. 

He’s blocked you too. And when you go to the group chat with all of your other friends, you notice he’s left it as well, and you’re blocked on social media too.

“Where are you?” Jungkook whines again, the pout in his voice evident.

You go back to Facetime. “I think I’ll have to go.”

He looks displeased, and he toys with his piercings, his tongue pushing into his cheek a second later. “Why?”

“Yoongi needs me,” you say. “And!” you quickly add before he can say anything. “It’s about Hobi.”

“What about Hobi?” Jungkook asks, and you hear the annoyance just as well as you see it etched on his features.

You usually find him adorable when he gets jealous, but right now you can’t even focus on that, your thoughts going to Yoongi, whose heart is likely shattering on and on at the moment.

“He left and blocked everyone,” you tell Jungkook. “So yeah, I think Yoongi’s going to need me tonight.”

Jungkook doesn’t like the explanation. It’s clear as spring water, yet he still says, “M’kay.”

“We can call again tomorrow?” you suggest, hoping that it’d reassure him.

Even though he doesn’t need reassurance - there’s no one else in your heart but him, and you hope he knows it.

“Sure,” he says.

It’s your turn to pout. “Please?”

At that he melts, his features softening. “Well if you ask so nicely…” 

That ends the conversation, and you quickly say goodbye, wishing him a good night. You take him in up until he hangs up the call, missing him the second that he’s gone. 

But you know Yoongi needs you, no matter how much you wish you could stay here with Jungkook. 

*****

Two hours later, you’re sitting on Yoongi’s bed, Namjoon on your left while Yoongi sits on the floor, his back against the bed. He’s drinking a beer, and you have an unopened one next to you. Condensation covers the bottle, yet you haven’t found it in you to drink yet.

Yoongi has been silent. You’d got there almost at the same time as Namjoon, and you’d been surprised to see him. Namjoon had just shrugged and said, “I’ve known him my whole life”, and that had been that.

It’s hard to cheer Yoongi up. Even harder after he told you that all Hoseok left behind was a letter of apologies. And you’ve read the letter - it broke your heart too, and you can’t even begin to imagine how Yoongi’s feeling.

In the letter, Hoseok explained why he decided to leave. You were right - he wanted to leave because of his relationship with Yoongi, seeking to flee from the reality of it, from the fact that Yoongi was his best friend, and that he felt like he’d lost that. It’s something you can understand - losing a friend is always hard, and sometimes the friendship is worth more than a relationship. At least it was to Hoseok. And though in the letter he claims that he’s enjoyed the last few months with Yoongi, his sudden absence, with no way to contact him, is proof enough that he didn’t really.

At least that’s what Yoongi’s been saying. 

Namjoon was shocked when Yoongi revealed his relationship with Hoseok. Even more so as he realized that you, out of everyone, were the only one who knew. Yet he’d taken it in stride, offering to have a beer with Yoongi.

“It’s fucking bullshit,” Yoongi says for what seems to be the hundredth time. 

You’d let him say it a thousand times more if that helped him feel better.

“You know what we should do?” Namjoon says from beside you.

You glance at him, before setting your gaze on the back of Yoongi’s head again.

“What?” Yoongi asks, looking over his shoulder.

“What about a rage room?”

Yoongi laughs an empty laugh. “No thank you. Though maybe it would help temporarily, I kind of just want to find a way to tell Hobi he’s a dick.”

You quickly found out that Hoseok has indeed blocked everyone from the friend group. As if cutting everyone out of his life was the only way he’d find solace in his new life. You think it’s a cowardly thing to do, and you’ve said so a couple of times already, to Yoongi’s delight.

“I don’t think that would bring you anywhere,” Namjoon carefully answers, the voice of reason itself.

You disagree, as you’ve always had more of an explosive personality, but you remain silent.

Yoongi glares at Namjoon. “It’d bring me a lot of satisfaction, thank you very much.”

Yoongi is funny. Behind all the cold exterior he has for people he doesn’t know, he’s got a funny persona you never thought was there. And you love it - he reminds you of you in some ways, and maybe that’s why you’ve gotten so close so easily.

“I personally think we should find out where he went and slash his tires,” you innocently say as you grab the beer bottle.

Namjoon narrows his gaze. “I doubt that’d be a good idea.”

“But fuck if it wouldn’t feel good,” Yoongi says, and he hands you the beer opener.

You open your beer, immediately bringing it to your lips as it foams and it threatens to spill. You drink as much of it as you can, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It would,” you echo. “But maybe we can resort to more peaceful options. I feel like Namjoonie here will go insane if we keep suggesting stuff like that.”

“He’s boring, isn’t he?” Yoongi says.

“Yeah, why did you invite him?”

Namjoon snorts. “You guys are aware that I’m right here?”

“Did someone say something?”

Yoongi tilts his head to the side, pursing his lips. “I’m not sure. Maybe the apartment is haunted.”

“It has to be,” you agree, nodding forcefully.

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys?” Namjoon asks, and you burst out laughing in time with Yoongi.

You’re relieved to hear him laugh. You didn’t know what to expect when you’d suggested coming over, but it’s a relief that he isn’t that much of a mess.

But then again, you have a feeling Yoongi is the kind of person to put on a mask whenever he’s with people. And maybe that’s okay - maybe tonight you’re just a distraction to keep him from spiraling out of control. 

You don’t mind. 

“Nothing,” Yoongi says, sighing deeply. “Besides the fact that I’ve just been ghosted by my best friend.”

You wince at the harsh reality of his words, but Yoongi shrugs it off as Namjoon says, “It’ll get better.”

Another sigh moves through Yoongi, and he nods. “I know. It’s just going to suck for a while.”

You shift, sliding from his bed down to the floor so that you can sit next to him. “And that’s okay.”

He avoids your gaze as you look at his profile, and so you glance away, your eyes sliding to his record player. The record he put on when you arrived has done playing, and you’ve been sitting in silence for fifteen minutes, but it’s a comfortable silence.

Maybe because you speak when needed, and Yoongi and Namjoon have a calm aura to them that you find you appreciate far more than you’d expect. You’re used to Ria after all, and though you love her, she’s a tornado everywhere she goes.

“How are you and Nabi?” Yoongi asks all of a sudden.

Namjoon blushes, as the quick glance towards him tells you. “You sure you want to talk about that?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not because I’m miserable that everyone has to be.”

“You’re not miserable,” you gently say.

Yoongi’s side eye makes you stifle a laugh. “Let me be miserable.” There’s a pause, and Yoongi eventually pushes up from his bed, sitting straighter so that he can turn and look at Namjoon. “So?”

“We’re good,” Namjoon finally replies. “I’m trying to take things slow because of…” he trails off as he looks at you. “But yeah, we’re good.”

“That’s great,” Yoongi says, and though it doesn’t sound sarcastic at all, he adds, “Genuinely. You deserve it man.”

You don’t know a lot about Namjoon’s previous relationship. Just the girl’s name - Julia - and you can’t help the curiosity that overtakes you. But you’re not a dick. Indeed, you hold your questions in, instead saying, “If you hurt her, you’re a dead man.”

He winces, laughing lightly. “Ria told me the exact same thing.”

“Because Nabi is too precious and she needs to be protected at all cost,” you vehemently say, half-joking. You follow up with, “But seriously, please do take things slowly, and always be honest to her. She’s had this massive crush on you, and I really don’t want her to get hurt.”

“I know,” Namjoon says, and he sighs, looking down the neck of his half-empty beer bottle. “I’ve had a crush on her too so…”

“You did?”

Yoongi laughs. “He so did. He kept mentioning her for months, saying that she was just a friend.”

“I mean, technically she was,” Namjoon says, trying to defend himself.

He’s blushing furiously now - it’s climbing up his neck and covering his whole face, and you think, that right here is what Nabi deserves.

“We always knew it wasn’t just that, though,” Yoongi says. “Clearly Julia knew too.”

Namjoon’s expression falls, and he sighs deeply. “Yeah. To be fair, she’s the one that decided to end things.”

You remain silent, taking a long sip of beer to refrain from saying something stupid, something that would silence Namjoon. You hate the taste of beer though, and you scrunch up your nose in disgust as you swallow. It goes unnoticed by both men, as Yoongi says, “Honestly, Julia was a bitch.”

“She had it rough growing up,” Namjoon replies, his voice drowning in what you think might be nostalgia, or regrets. “Hopefully she’ll get better from now on.”

“Having rough circumstances growing up doesn’t give someone an excuse to be a dick though,” Yoongi flatly says, not one to mince his words after all. “But yeah, hopefully she’ll get the help she clearly needs.”

Damn. You almost feel bad for the girl, but then again you don’t know her. Maybe Yoongi’s animosity towards her is deserved, and you don’t feel like questioning it.

No, you’d rather Namjoon forget about her and focus on Nabi instead.

“Whatever,” Namjoon lets out, shrugging his shoulders. “Even though everything with Nabi is recent, I feel a lot better with her than I ever felt with Julia.”

“Not hard to beat,” Yoongi grumbles underneath his breath, which earns him a slap behind the head from Namjoon.

“Hey, I get that you’re sad but don’t be a dick,” Namjoon sternly says.

Namjoon is a natural leader. You’ve seen it before, when he’d led your team from Frosh week to success. And you’ve seen it every time he’s TA’d a class, yet right now you realize he might be a leader in his friendships as well. Indeed, Yoongi folds, apologizing right away.

You end up spending the evening at Yoongi’s place. Your other friends join, and though the air around Seokjin and Ria is clearly tense, you end up having a blast. Even Yoongi seems to be enjoying himself, but when you notice him increasingly silent, you suggest heading home. He offers you a thankful gaze, and you guide everyone out of the apartment.

To your surprise, Yoongi hugs you goodbye, holding you close for a few seconds longer than you’d thought he’d be comfortable with. But then again, you reckon he might need it, so you hug him tight, letting him choose when to pull away.

“Thank you for tonight,” he whispers when he does, and his eyes glint with the silver on his waterline.

You offer him what you hope is a comforting smile. “Anytime, Yoongi. Just say the word and I’ll be here for you.”

“I’ll remember.”

You smile again, and then you wish him good night, walking out of the apartment last. Yoongi keeps the door open as you all walk down the stairs, and he shuts it when you’ve all disappeared from view. 

You send him a silent prayer to be gentle with himself, and you can only hope he hears it over the sound of his breaking heart.

Friday, May 3rd

You like your summer job. It’s chill, and you don’t have to start too early, so you always enjoy it. You’re an assistant at an optometry clinic, which means you do the pre-tests for the doctors, and since they don’t start before 10 am, you don’t either. 

What you don’t like is that one of the optometrists finishes at seven pm, which means you also do, and finishing at seven pm on a Friday evening should be a crime. It’s no wonder you’re slightly grumpy when you finally walk outside, waving goodbye to the optometrist.

At least she’s chill. She could be an asshole, but she got the team donuts today, and she even bought you lunch when you admitted you didn’t bring anything.

You walk to your car - the one you share with Taehyung - and you pull your phone out of your purse as you do so, eyes skimming over all the texts you’ve received.

You’re going out tonight, to a bar that Yoongi chose for its relatively chill ambiance, and you’re excited for it. Yoongi’s been MIA since you all hung out at his apartment, so you hope it’ll cheer him up, and you hope it’ll also help with pushing Jungkook out of your thoughts.

Not that you mind thinking about him - sometimes you believe him to be the president of the land of your mind. But he’s been texting you less and less every day, and you haven’t facetimed yesterday despite him saying he’d try.

You’ve been trying not to make a big deal out of it, but something about it feels off somehow. You reckon you’re probably just imagining things where none are, afraid as you are of the fragility of the relationship. 

But then again you’ve always trusted your gut feeling, and it’s never really failed you before.

You sigh, trying to ignore the foul taste in your mouth so that you can read the texts on your screen instead. Ria’s the one that texted you most recently, saying,

[6:46 pm] Ria: can we get ready at yours?  [6:47 pm] Ria: tho my mom’s happy I moved back in for the summer, she doesn’t want me to invite people over [7:06 pm] You: sure, heading home now

You reach your car, opening the door and throwing your purse on the passenger seat. A second later you’re sliding in, and you turn the keys in the engine. The car purrs to life, and soon enough, you’re on your way home, listening to the music on the radio.

Your mood brightens slightly when you reach home and see that there’s a spot on the street right in front of your apartment. You immediately grab it, even though you suck at parallel parking and it takes you three tries, and then you’re jumping out of the car, climbing the stairs to unlock the door.

You manage to take a shower before Ria shows up, a sour look on her features. You cock an eyebrow, letting her in. She breezes past you, not saying anything, and that more than anything else tells you that something’s wrong.

“What’s up?” you say as you carefully shut the door behind her.

She sighs loudly, extravagantly. “Jin isn’t coming tonight.”

You widen your gaze. “Oh?”

“He said he’s tired from work,” Ria says, and she folds her arms on his chest. “He sucks.”

You snort. “Why are you so worked up?”

“Because I know he’s lying!” She takes off her leather jacket, putting it away in the closet, and then she kicks off her shoes to strut into the kitchen. “Can I grab a glass of water?”

“Sure,” you say as you follow behind her. “Why do you think he’s lying?”

“He’s going on a date and doesn’t want to come to the bar after,” she admits, and the frown on her face tells you everything there is to know.

She is jealous, but she’ll never dare admit it. She’s way too proud for that, and though sometimes you know it protects her, you feel like it can be her demise all the same.

“Oof,” you only let out.

“Right?” She chugs the glass of water, putting it away in the sink. She leans back against the counter, folding her arms on her chest. “He’s just got out of a relationship, why would he get in another one?”

“I mean…” you trail off, shrugging. “Isn’t that what Namjoon did with Nabi?”

“That’s not the same,” Ria insists, shaking her head. 

It is, as a matter of fact, the same, but you refrain from saying so.

“He doesn’t even know the girl, she’s a blind date that his colleague is forcing him to go on,” Ria adds. “Why would he want to go?”

“Well…” you let out. “Maybe he just wants to throw himself out there again.”

Ria doesn’t like you saying that, and she offers you a scalding look that makes you snort again.

“You’re so mad,” you tease her.

“I’m not!”

“Do you like him?”

She makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. “No, of course not.”

“Then why does it matter if he’s going on a date?”

The answering silence is telling enough, and Ria clenches her jaw once, before pouring herself another glass of water. “I hate when you make sense.”

“Love you too,” you answer, and you walk to her as she’s got her back turned to you. You hug her from behind, saying, “We’ll have fun tonight, I promise.”

And you don’t know who you’re trying to convince. You or Ria. Because the dreadful feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach only intensifies as you get ready, putting your makeup on in the bathroom while Ria curls her hair with your curling iron.

You’re almost done, about to put your setting powder on when the music stops, and the unmistakable sound of the Facetime ringing fills the room. Your heart jumps to your throat, and you quickly put your brush down, grabbing your phone.

“Damn, who’s calling you?” Ria teases your reaction.

You frown as you see Taehyung’s picture from your contacts - you’d expected Jungkook. 

You pick up, and it takes a few seconds before it connects. Taehyung’s smiling face comes into view, and it takes you half a heartbeat to figure out he’s drunk.

Jimin is laughing in the background, and you hear Sera scolding him, though all you can see is Taehyung, and you think the shoulder beside him might belong to Ariane.

“Sis,” Taehyung greets you. “Not ignoring me anymore?”

“Hello!” Ariane says, and she comes into view, resting her head on Taehyung’s shoulder.

“Hi?” you answer, and Ria chimes in with a far more enthusiastic “Hello!”

“Y/n!” Jimin says in the background.

Taehyung turns his phone just enough for you to see Jimin, who’s waving like a madman.

They’re all drunk. That much is clear. What’s clearer is the absence of a certain Jeon Jungkook in the group, and you can’t help but wonder what he’s up to.

He hasn’t texted you since this morning after all.

“What’s up?” you ask.

“Just thought I’d check in with you,” Taehyung says, his speech slurred. “Anything fun planned tonight?”

“Going out with some friends,” you answer. “Nothing extravagant. What are you guys up to? Isn’t it crazy late in Paris?”

Taehyung frowns, focusing on something. “Just two am, not too bad.”

Right.

“What are you doing?” you ask, and you sit on the closed toilet, glancing once at Ria who seems fully focused on doing her hair.

“We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby,” Taehyung says. “They fucking stole the bedroom.”

Ria’s head snaps towards you, as time slows and slows and slows, coming to a halt long enough for you to say, “What?”

“Yeah, you’ll never imagine,” Taehyung says. “Ari’s best friend here is JK’s ex from high school. She’s French but she grew up in New York.”

Chronology is interrupted - you think there might be a hiccup in the line of time. But then it starts again, far too quickly, and your blood fills with adrenaline, your heart picking up in your chest.

“Who?” you let out, sounding infinitely stupid.

But then again, maybe you’ve been a fool all along, since that very first kiss he’d claimed to be a fake Valentine’s Day kiss.

“Gaby,” Taehyung repeats. “Gabrielle. She’s pretty chill.”

Your heart aches in your chest. It burns like someone threw acid on it, and you feel it shrivel behind your ribs, slowly turning to dust.

“Oh.”

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, and you wonder if you imagine the knowing look that passes on his face.

“Nothing,” you quickly reply, but you can’t breathe anymore.

It’s like there’s no more oxygen in the room, and you’re choking on the nitrogen, your mind spinning.

Taehyung gets up, and then everything is truly spinning. You think you hear Sera saying something that sounds like ‘Come on’, but then again you might be deaf.

All you hear is that sentence Taehyung said - We’re just chilling while Jungkook finishes up with Gaby.

When you were younger, you’d always believed your heart to be invincible. You’d felt invincible, like maybe you were meant to conquer all mountains. 

Tonight, you realize you’ve never been invincible - you just never cared enough about anything to thoroughly break, your heart shred beyond recognition.

Taehyung is walking somewhere. He laughs on the way, and Jimin is close behind, as you can see his head peeking over your brother’s shoulder.

“Don’t open the door,” Jimin says.

Taehyung snorts, and it’s like he forgot you’re right there. Or maybe he’s enjoying this.

Maybe he’s known about Jungkook all along, and this is his own twisted way to kill the relationship before it really starts. 

Your reckon, you deserve it. For all the lies, for the truth hidden, you deserve it. But then again, isn’t Jungkook the true responsible of the neverending breaking in your chest? Because it’s breaking - like a glass dropped, your heart is shattering. 

Perhaps chasing cars around Jungkook’s head was only ever leading to an inevitable crash.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung singsongs, and then you hear a door being opened, and the camera flips.

You don’t even know why you’re still looking. You know exactly what’s going to be under your eyes - what is under your eyes - but you can’t stop watching. Can’t really see it either, blurry as it is behind the tears pooling in your gaze.

I promise I’ll come back to you and make it work

He was never going to come back, wasn’t he? He was bound to be left in the past - you should have known when you’d kissed him by the door. Should have known to take the time to commit his features to memory.

Your vision clears, and the scene comes in focus. He’s dressed. He’s fully clothed, and so is she - you don’t even know if it’s a relief. Because they’re clearly kissing, and you think maybe he’s ripped your heart from your chest.

He was lying to you. He was lying to you through it all, wasn’t he? You should have listened to everyone, should have run while you still could.

You’re crying. You only realize you’re crying when Ria steals your phone from your hands, quickly hanging up the call. 

“Y/n,” she gently says, and she kneels in front of you, wiping the tears on your cheeks. “Y/n.”

“Holy shit,” is all you’re able to say before you break into sobs, shaking from the ferocity of the heartbreak. 

Your heart, now shards of glass, pricks your skin, pricks your soul. Everything hurts - you burn and drown, you freeze and blaze. You can’t breathe around the sobs, choking on them as they rock through you, yet you can’t stop them.

And as you break, you see him on Valentine’s Day. You see his sparkling eyes, his gentle gaze. See his lips right before he’d kissed you, so gentle like he’d been afraid to break you. You see him in New York, see him as he’d fucked you like you were in the clouds. You see him every day since then - you’d been so convinced of the reciprocity of the feelings that you’d forgotten who you were dealing with.

You think perhaps you’d truly just been the little sister, a fantasy he had to check on his bullet list of things to do in his life. And perhaps he’d been afraid of breaking you, of the inevitable consequences on him.

“He fucking lied to me,” is the first thing you manage to say through the breaking.

Ria pulls you in, and you fall on the floor, where she holds you as you cry. 

“He fucking lied.”

She strokes your hair. “I’m sorry.”

And it hits you then - Jungkook never really said he had feelings for you. It’d just been an act - the grandest act of his life, perhaps. And you’d been foolish enough to fall, to fall and fall and think he’d catch you. You’d thought you were diving in sweet waters, yet tonight you crash on concrete, the Earth’s gravity destroying you until you’re just a memory, meant to be carried away on a wind of heartbreak.

Ria stays with you until you fall asleep in your bed, your makeup ruined by your tears.

Your heart ruined by Jeon Jungkook.

Prev | Chapter 11.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

.................. i am deeply sorry. please don't hate me for this one, and feel free to scream at me too :') (i promise everything will make sense one day)

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[maplebellsmods]

Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod: 2

Ok..more storytelling and relationship options for your sims! 

(Really tried my best to push this out before the end of Jan) 😮‍💨

If you want more info about the mod check this page out: Expanded Storytelling Relationship Bits Mod 

This time around created more relationship bits. Here they are

I wanted to try something new this time, which is why it took me so much time. I'll get into it later.

But there are a few new things I have added and changed from the previous one. First off, there are more interactions available: social interactions, phone interactions, and rabbit hole interactions.

Each one of these interactions corresponds to a specific relationship bit.

Healing Touch: 'Plan Relaxing Activities Together,' 'Offer Comfort through Hugs and Physical Touch.'

Wisdom Seekers: 'Ask Questions about the Universe.'

Unbreakable Connection: 'Celebrate Anniversary of Enduring Connection,' 'Promise Everlasting Friendship' (Only available pre-promise).

I do need to note that, just like the other mod, many of these are cosmetic and don't have a full effect yet. (Emphasis on 'yet,' as I will slowly but surely make these more functional.)

If your Sims have the Wisdom Seeker, Tech-Savvy Partners, or Night Owl Companions relationship bits, some interactions will unlock on the phone:

Wisdom Seeker: Study Together at the Library 

Tech-Savvy Partners: Send Tech News 

Night Owl Companions: Night Time Activities Menu 

(Regarding nighttime activities, I haven't found a workaround for this issue yet. However, here's a temporary solution: When selecting an activity for the two Sims who have the rabbit, choose the Sim you want to go with first, and then select yourself again using the same option. I'm not sure why this happens, but it can be a bit inconvenient. I'll work on making the process more streamlined in the future, but for now, this is how you can get them to go to the same activity.)

The new feature I've been working on, which I'm quite excited about, involves social interactions. I've always felt that many social interactions lacked depth and context. So, what I'm currently working on is creating social interactions to fill that gap

One of these interactions is 'Provide Emotional Support,' which is available for Sims with the 'Healing Touch' relationship.

In this interaction, your Sim will be presented with several options when they are feeling sad. Your Sim can choose from these options to express why they are feeling sad. Once they make a selection, the other Sim will ask for more context, leading to the exchange of contextual advice and reassurance.

I've also developed another social interaction, 'Try to Confess Feelings,' which is available for Sims experiencing 'Unrequited Love.

Attempting to confess your feelings will lead to various outcomes depending on the option you choose. In this interaction, the Sim who hears the confession will have several response options available.

The choice made by the listening Sim will have an impact on their relationship, both romantically and platonically. Some response options may harm the relationship more than others.

The way the Sim responds through the animation doesn't affect the outcome. I've designed it this way to leave the choice entirely in the player's hands. However, unless both Sims are in a flirty mood and have a high friendship level, the Sim who hears the confession will always use the rejection animation. Nevertheless, this animation choice doesn't alter the outcome.

The social interaction 'Forbid Relationship With' can be used either before or after designating two Sims as star-crossed lovers. Some of the options will even add the 'star-crossed lovers' relationship bit to the two Sims (if they didn't have it), while others will remove it (if they did have it).

The interaction can be found under the Mean -- Arguments Pie Menu Category. Only a parent, grandparent, uncle, or caregiver can trigger the interaction. 

Depending on the chosen options, the relationship can either suffer a negative or experience a positive impact. While all of the options will influence the relationship, certain responses will have a significantly greater effect on it than others.

These are all the main points! I hope you all enjoy this new feature because I'm eager to create more! There will be additional interactions and other things I'll be adding to this mod. I'm constantly learning new things, and it's truly enjoyable to implement them!

Download Here

Public Feb 24

[vxrycooldude]

MDNI - cw: nerd!choso x fem!reader, (‘pretty girl,’ ‘sweetheart’), fingering (f! receiving), public sex, not very detailed smut, not proofread

thinking about nerd!choso who you see one day in a lecture - his focus on the professor, when he’d twist his rings as fidget, and his cute, inky ponytails that made you want to thread your fingers through his hair - see if it felt as soft as it looked.

but when the lecture was over and everyone started filing out of the room, you were able to see his face. he had an aloof expression, and his eye bags made it seem he hadn’t slept in a good while. a black tattoo stretched across the bridge of his nose, making him stand out strangely, even though he didn’t seem like the type to want the attention.

you continued to see him around the campus, always with that same tired and bored attitude. you hadn’t even spoken to him - yet he was all you could think about. you hadn’t even heard his voice!

so you decided to do something about it. putting on your most revealing denim skirt, layering two tank tops on top of each other (both with a low cut). you hadn’t cared that much about how good your hair looked or how slutty you seemed in a while, but the extra hour you spent getting ready before your next lecture would all be worth it - hopefully.

you watched him, waiting in anticipation until the professor would stop droning and you could talk to him. finally, after a good hour - the lecture was done. you quickly grabbed your purse and caught him as he was making his way out of the lecture hall. “hey, wait up!” he stops, turning around. his eyes are wide. you’re surprised when you realize how tall he really is - a good head taller than you.

“i’m sorry…i don’t know your name.” he mumbles, scratching the back of his neck. he had baggy black pants and an old Korn t-shirt. you hoped your cheeks weren’t red, but he was so…alluring.

“well, i don’t know yours, either.” you grin. he looks surprised that you asked, and that you’re even speaking to him. “…choso.” you try to contain your own excitement as you smile up at him.

“i’ve seen you around campus. you seem really smart…and i’m kind of failing,” you chuckle, swaying back and forth on your feet. “i was wondering if you’d tutor me, by any chance?”

choso’s mouth stretched out to a tiny smile, one that sent your heart beating furiously. “i’m not that smart…but i’d love to help.” he sounded so sweet, like he really did care if you failed or not. why couldn’t all guys be like him?

your eyes light up as you thank him profusely. the thought of spending time with choso, alone, was enough to make you thank yourself for actually making it this far in life. the next day, you would meet with choso in the university’s library and go over trigonometry together - at least, that was the plan.

but what really happened was his fingers finding their way knuckle deep inside you, his face leaned closely against your neck as he peppered kisses along your smooth skin. you bit your lip as you tried to conceal your noises, but two of his fingers were enough to make you go insane.

“shh, pretty girl. gotta be quiet for me, mkay?” he bit down softly on your collarbone, causing you to whine. his teeth grazing over your skin, plus the added feeling of his fingers pumping in and out of you, were enough to make your toes curl. “ch-cho-‘m gonna-“ “that’s it, sweetheart. come for me.” you let out a broken groan as you came, bucking your hips forward into his hand. you’d never came so hard in your life.

“…think we need to go to my place to study s’more, don’t you think?”

[thegreatstoryteller]

The Great Shift: Turning 30

The Great shift was a huge time in many people’s lives. Especially those with birthdays who fell around the time of the great shift. Some turning 18, others turning 80! But still others had their hearts set on a time in their life that was quite pivotal. However, because of the shift some may have to wait a little longer to reach that milestone, while others have jumped leaps and bounds beyond it!

Harvey Singh (30 years old)

Fuuuck my head… and my clothes apparently. Damn. This is not what I imagined turning 30 would be like! 

Before the world went insane, I was so close! The damn great shift just had to happen right before my birthday. I was working at this law firm, a pretty shady place at first. Lots of scummy people taking advantage of others, but my boss was trying to turn it around! We kicked out those idiots who were causing trouble, got them arrested! I was gonna get promoted and help lead the charge for helping others… but not anymore.

The great shift landed me inside of Skyler Marlo! 18 year old quarterback for the local university. And right after a big party too. I couldn’t find a stitch of clothes to fit my new larger body. I was really lucky this frat house I woke up in had a towel nearby. But that was just the beginning of my nightmare. 

You see that smile of distress? Yeah that’s me. Instead of writing briefs and taking on clients in need, I’m here on the football field. Apparently after the upheaval the shift caused people are having trouble verifying identities and gaining access to their property/funds. That’s totally something I could be helping with! Instead I'm stuck back in the life of a teenager again. I wasn't a big fan of 18 last time I was in college.

The only thing that could get me after the shift was taking on this guy’s college scholarship. It gives me a place to stay and access to their college library, but I had to join the college football team. Some organizations like college athletics don’t seem to care who is shifted or not! As long as they got the players they need to draw in a crowd, they seemed perfectly content letting anyone play. Though who can blame them. If they saw me before I doubt they’d want some angry short king running their drills. No… now I’m not the 5’0 Indian guy who got overlooked in school. I look the picture of boy next door prom king that rules the college. 6’2, 195lbs of lean muscle, and size 15 feet. That last one took awhile to get used to! Finding cleats that size was the hardest part of this change. 

So here I am, sweating it out day after day to maintain my scholarship, while I wait for the day I’m recertified with my state’s bar! Once I’m a lawyer again I swear I’ll help out others like me forced to cling on to new lives while the system sorts things out. It sucks having to practice every day and do all these drills and grunt work! The college even has me posing for their promotional material to draw in bigger crowds at the game! Who would want this kind of life?!

Then again… it’s already been a few months… I may as well get used to college life… I was a nerdy brown kid my last run in college, mostly studying and doing what my parents wanted… now at least I can get a look at how the athletes lived… That frat did ask me if I wanted to join… I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun while I wait to get my life back.

After all, I do get pretty excited after an intense practice, and judging by some of the looks from my teammates, I may not be the only one eager to get to know my new body better. 

Phil Inver (30 years old)

People need to learn how to relax. I don’t know what the big deal is. So a bunch of people swapped bodies. What’s there to worry about? See me? I don’t have a care in the world. When I was turning 30 doctors told me I was overweight and at risk of diabetes, my work would always be on me for not applying myself, and my girlfriend said I was always too lazy in our relationship! 

But my mindset since the shift hasn’t changed! It landed me in this nice smooth and lean body! I’m glad that this guy kept in such good shape. Having actual abs is insane! Same for these toned arms! I’m not sure if he’s the shaving kinda guy or if he’s naturally smooth, but it sure as hell beats taking care of an unruly beard and body hair!

Turns out now that I look like this people are a bit more receptive to my ideals! Doctors say my heart is as healthy as a horse! Says my stress free lifestyle is a large part of that! My work? They now say my chill attitude makes things a lot more zen around the office. Guess they don’t care I don’t get too much done whenever I flash them a smile. And my girlfriend… or my boyfriend as he goes by now, certainly thinks I’m taking an active role in the bedroom. Who knew that my new stud of a boyfriend had a thing for Asian guys!?

So what am I gonna do now? Listen to music, chill as my boyfriend showers, and wait out the day as normal. Sure I’m turning 30, but it’s just another day in paradise for me! Oh what’s that? This body is only 21? Even better! I’ve got plenty of time to relax before I turn 30.

Devon Lin (30 years old)

So I was a bit nervous about turning 30. I feel like I haven’t really done all the things I wanted… and all my friends were joking saying it’s all downhill after that. I wasn’t dealing the best with the stress… Well like it or not the shift had me face that hurdle a few year further than I expected.

And I gotta say. It’s not as bad as I thought it was gonna be. Sure I’m a bit older, but hell  I look a hell of a lot more manly! Could it be that the shift landed me in a handsome 37 year old with a built body, tan skin,  and perfect beard? Maybe… but hey. Age is just a mindset… but these muscles sure aren’t! Boom!

You like that? So do the guys at the bar! They keep insisting I don’t shave my chest or pit hair too. I think I could pull off that look. That being said, I think anything looks good on a 6’5 stud like me. Tall, dark, and handsome all the way!

Before I would jump around from job to job. Bartender, janitor, waiter, and housekeeper, but lately I’ve found my job as a bouncer at the local bar a lot more rewarding. You’d be surprised how many fights stop once I take my shirt off and start playing pool with the patrons. I’ve won nearly every game of billiards I’ve played! Though I have the sneaking suspicion it may be due to the guys staring more at me than the balls.

Guess that’s one of the benefits to working at a chill gay bar! You know, I was always a bit insecure about my body and experimenting sexually. Being a shorter gay man with a chip on his shoulder would do that to you. Now… well let’s just say now I feel like I’ve got a lot more confidence! I may have missed my 30th birthday, but I think I know how I’m gonna spend my 38th!

Marcus Garcia (30 years old)

They say when you get older you begin to value things differently. Honestly I didn’t know what to expect when I turned 30. Was I supposed to be wiser all of a sudden? Have a plan for things? In truth plenty of people younger than me had their life together compared to me. Partners. Kids. A stable job. A house.

In short. I thought I had more time. But we don’t always get to choose how fast life comes at us. I mean look at me. Didn’t expect the shift to make me 55.

Losing 25 years of my life was definitely not the easiest. The great shift nearly tears the world apart and I’m running for my life looking like retirement is right around the corner. That first day was definitely a wake up call that I did not have the same stamina that I used to. In that opening week of the shift I was pretty much running on adrenaline and coffee wherever I could get it. I took lots of naps just to stay sane. 

As the days went on and society slowly readjusted to some version of normal, I began to actually have time to look at my body. I mean I was a pretty skinny guy before, my sister would always say I needed to workout more. But I guess all it took was 25 years of my life to finally get in shape. 

Not only that, but I’m admiring the body hair. This guy was a pretty hairy dude. The salt and pepper stubble had guys starting me daddy at the gay bars, while the chest hair was still dark like my eyebrows and made my impressive physique pop. 

My feet were pretty big too. Size 14! Twice as big as my old feet, but just as hard to find shoes my size. 

Needless to say there were highs and lows to my new life. Was I happy that i was 6’6 now? Sure! Loved being tall and nearly bonking my head on doorframes. Was I upset lots of my joints were sore and that I could only take my coffee black to avoid dairy and sugar? No… that sucked. I liked my sweet drinks and I missed not waking up in pain.

Omar LeRon was a guy that lived along my street. He was a single dad raising his 5 year old, all at the age of 45.

I later learned he had a few wild days in his early 40s that lead to Omar Jr. And now in his mid 20s again he’s glad he could be more present for his son! Even if his son is the same age as him now.

He told me all of this one day when we both left our house for a jog. He found that doing some running in his new body helped him vent some much needed energy from his body, while I needed to do something physical if I was to have any hope of maintaining healthy workout routines for mine! 

Needles to say he offered some words of wisdom growing up and it really helped put some things in perspective. Meanwhile, I gave him some tips about helping his son. Turns out all those years working at my aunt’s day care counted for something, even for post shifted kids!

Our conversations started as friendly advice and then grew into more! Talks became dates. Dates became moving in. Moving in became an engagement! Now a few years after the wedding I guess you truly can call me a daddy now. Jr. sure does. He’s doing great in school and is looking forward to next week when my sister is gonna watch him for the summer.

My husband and I are gonna take our first real vacation since the great shift! We’re looking forward to it! We’ll be celebrating Omar’s 30th birthday in his new body now! He keeps making jokes saying, “Well I’ve done it before. Nothing to it the second time around.” And “Well here I thought your 30th birthday was extreme. I doubt I could top that”

He also never stops teasing me about how he loves being married to an older man and that I’m not as young as I used to be. We know it’s all in good fun. I mean, I can still keep up with him in the bedroom, where it counts… as long as he gives me a few minutes to recover after. Young guys like him are insatiable. I’ll try to power through though. After all, you only turn “30” once.

[dark-fics-4-you]

Number One Fan ch. V

Dark!Stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), incest (step siblings), implied noncon, forced kissing, forced oral (m!recieving), fingering, semi public sex, drug mention, manipulation, controlling behavior, gaslighting, blackmailing, fainting, reader has ptsd like symptoms,

Previous Chapter

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you sat in Ward’s study, finding it much easier to look at your shoes than meet the eyes of your angry step father.

“Are you going to tell me what really happened yesterday? Because Rafe already did, and now I want to give you a chance to explain yourself, Y/N.”

Unwanted memories flashed through your mind.

Watching your brother slam his fists into JJ’s face, the way it felt when Rafe had pinned you to the bed, and how your head had spun when he slapped you. You shuddered as you recalled the feeling of him forcing himself inside of you for the first time and how awful it felt went he kissed you.

You didn’t want to think about the sticky feeling of his cum oozing out of you after he pulled out.

You could only lie on the bed in shock when it was over. Rafe had to carry you to the shower, holding you up as he washed you and you tried to ignore how his hands wandered across your soapy body, squeezing your tits and ass while your numb tears mixed with the water from above.

Before that night, you had loved falling asleep next to your step brother. You loved the sense of comfort, safety, and peace that he always gave you.

Yesterday night, however, you felt terrified and tense as you lay next to the man who had just broken your trust and assaulted you. Rafe had insisted on sleeping naked, leaving you on high alert, so scared that he was going to try to initiate something that you couldn’t relax.

Even worse was knowing that if you did fall asleep next to him, he might force himself onto you anyways.

Every time he shifted in his sleep, every time he pulled you closer, or wrapped his strong arms around you tighter, your heart rate spiked, sure that he was awake and had decided that one time wasn’t enough.

After an almost sleepless night, you cracked your eyes open and felt Rafe stirring beside you.

“Good morning, Y/N/N,” he mumbled, his voice lowered from just waking up.

You had started shifting away from him when his arm wrapped around you, pulling you in to his warm chest. His hand found your chin, tilting your face towards his before his lips captured yours.

When you struggled against him, you felt his lips curl into a small grin and he chuckled before covering your lips with his again, this time sliding his hand to hold the back of your head in place.

His other hand found your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, and you were disgusted when you felt yourself getting wet.

Rafe broke the kiss, staring into your eyes for a few moments before he slowly sat up in bed and started grabbing his clothes.

“We should probably start heading back. Don’t want Ward and Rose getting too suspicious.”

You breathed a silent sigh of relief at his words, anxious to return to land and get far away from your step brother.

Rafe’s eyes burned into your back as you dressed quietly, putting on the outfit that you had worn the day before, already formulating plans on how you could burn the clothes.

You didn’t want to be reminded of last night every time you looked at them.

Before Rafe could finish up in the bedroom, you quickly exited, walking up the stairs to the main deck and leaning on a railing to watch the rising sun reflect off of the water below you.

How could you possibly have a normal life after this?

How could you go on about your day, knowing that the brother you had always trusted, the one who had lived just down the hall from you for 10 years, was capable of so much cruelty?

Sensing a presence from behind, you spun around to face him as Rafe hooked his arm around your back, holding you against his chest before grinning wolfishly and leaning down to smother your lips with his own.

With the railing at your back along with his arm locked tight around you, there was nowhere to go as you squirmed helplessly in his grasp.

Rafe’s tongue forced its way into your mouth and you almost gagged. He held you in place for what felt like an eternity before finally releasing you.

The blond grinned down at you wickedly before wrapping his fingers around your wrist and tugging you towards the bottom deck. He glanced at his watch, clicking his tongue before chuckling darkly.

“Just enough time for a quickie.”

When you finally got back to Tannyhill, feeling sore and used, and utterly repulsed by your step brother, you couldn’t get out of his truck fast enough.

Thankfully, you didn’t see anyone as you came in and you quietly, but quickly, rushed up the stairs before entering your bedroom, locking the door, ripping your clothes off, taking a scorching shower as you tried to wash the scent of your brother off of you, and then collapsing onto your bed in exhaustion.

You must have slept for several hours however, because when you were finally awoken by a knock at your door, the sky outside your window was growing orange and red as the sun began to set.

“Y/N? Are you in there?” You recognized Sarah’s voice and you sat up in bed.

“Yeah, one second,” you forced your hoarse voice to project enough for her to hear, climbing out of your bed and walking to your dresser to grab a change of comfy clothes.

You opened your door with a timid smile that Sarah worryingly exchanged.

“Are you okay? What happened last night?”

You anxiously looked down the hall to see if Rafe was lurking nearby before sighing and fidgeting with your fingers as you attempted to find your voice.

“Um.. I’d rather not talk about it, Sarah.”

Your step sister looked confused as she tried to get a read on your face.

“But, um, is JJ okay?” You asked nervously.

“Rafe broke his nose and he’s bruised pretty bad but he’ll be okay. He’s been asking about you nonstop, all the Pogues have. They were really scared when we told them what happened.”

You looked down at the ground feeling guilty. You knew that Rafe was the one who had initiated it, but JJ wouldn’t have been jumped like that if you hadn’t been talking to him. Rafe fought with the Pogues all the time, but last night was different.

“Hey, are you okay?”

Sarah’s question surprised you, and you realized there were tears welling in your eyes.

“Um…. Could we go to your room to talk?”

Sarah’s room had always been a comfort to you before you and Rafe got super close, and you did enjoy your sister’s company a lot.

“Sure, of course, Y/N.” She pulled you into a hug, which you returned, enjoying the lightness her presence was bringing you.

You tensed however when you cracked your eyes open to see Rafe emerging from his room behind her.

You averted your eyes immediately, heart rate picking up as you released Sarah and she turned to see Rafe.

“Fuck you, Rafe. I really do not understand your problem with JJ at all,” she spat at him turning to you and expecting you to join in.

Rafe’s eyes fell on you and you watched the corner of his lips threatening to pull into a smirk of amusement.

You swallowed dryly, remembering the sensation of his backhand whipping your head to the side and the dizziness that followed.

“I really wanted to make this special for you,” his nasally voice taunted you.

Your breath grew faster and harder to catch as your vision grew fuzzy around the edges.

“Y/N?” Sarah’s voice was muffled, like she was speaking to you through a tunnel

You felt lightheaded and sick, and you were lucky that you were standing by Sarah and not Rafe because she was the one to catch you when your knees buckled beneath you.

The two of them had a short argument that you couldn’t hear above you before Rafe’s arms wrapped around your limp body and carried you to Sarah’s room.

You tried to ignore the feeling of his fingers brushing over your exposed skin as he lay you down on Sarah’s bed. Sarah’s face appeared in your line of vision and she said something that you couldn’t hear before both of them left the room.

The last thing you saw was Sarah returning a minute later with a cool washcloth that she pressed to your warm forehead.

She was talking to you again, and you tried to grasp at her words, to understand any of them, but your body felt weighed down and you fell into the black abyss of sleep quickly.

…

You woke to the sound of an argument on the other side of the door. Sarah, Rafe, and Ward were screaming at each other.

“She wouldn’t do that, Rafe!”

“Don’t act like you know her so well! You’d be surprised.”

“Both of you just calm the fuck down!” Ward yelled and they became silent. “Sarah go see if she’s awake yet.”

The door to her room cracked open and light from the hall made you sit up in bed.

“What’s going on?” You met Sarah’s tear filled eyes first, then the angry eyes of Ward, your confused mother’s eyes, and then finally Rafe’s, who was standing behind all of them wearing a vindictive smile only you could see.

“Get out of bed and come to my office right now, Y/N,” Ward sternly commanded you.

Your heart leapt to your throat, confusion pulsing through your veins.

What the fuck is going on right now?

Without a word, you followed Rafe, Sarah, Rose, and Ward to his office, where he gestured for you to sit down before staring you down in silence.

“Ward?” You nervously asked. “Rose?”

“Are you going to tell me what really happened yesterday? Because Rafe already did, and now I want to give you a chance to explain yourself, Y/N.”

You tensed, anxiously looking over at Rafe who was watching you with a small smirk.

He wouldn’t have told them about what happened yesterday, that would have been insane, right??

“I- I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Your step father sighed before reaching into his pocket and pulling out three small bags of coke.

“Do you want to explain to me why Rafe and I found these in your room today, Y/N?”

Your heart stopped, jaw dropping open in disbelief as you stared at Ward.

“Th-those aren’t fucking mine! Ward you know I don’t do that!” You would have laughed if you didn’t feel so sick right now.

“Rafe was the one who told me, he said you asked him for some, and when he wouldn’t give it to you, you went to the Pogues.”

“Dad, I already told you, none of the Pogues use or sell coke!” Sarah shouted at him and he silenced her with a furious look.

“They aren’t mine, Ward! Rafe probably just got too high and forgot where he stashed his!” You threw a pointed look at your brother who was just behind Ward and Sarah, watching on with a mirthful smirk.

“If it was mine, don’t you think I would’ve just, I don’t know, taken them?” His casual tone made you want to scream. “Why would I hide it in your room?”

“Maybe because you’re a fucking cokehead,” you spat at him.

“Takes one to know one,” he shot back and you huffed in frustration. He looked at his father and Rose before faking concern, “She’s probably high right now.”

“God! Ward, please, Rafe nearly killed JJ yesterday! He would have, if I didn’t push him off of him. He’s lying to you!” You looked over to Rose, who met your eyes with sadness. “Mom, tell me you don’t believe this too!”

“I wouldn’t have done that if he hadn’t been selling to my little sister.” Rafe sniped.

You bit your tongue as you glared at him, trying to not let your anger get the best of you. Tears burned at your eyes before slowly starting to fall past your lashes.

Looking at Ward and your mother again, you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“Ward, I swear to you, that coke isn’t mine. I promise that it’s not mine. JJ is just my friend, he’s not a dealer. Rafe planted it there! You have to believe me.” You were crying harder now despite your efforts to stop.

Ward just shook his head in disappointment, “You just fainted earlier today out of nowhere! What was that? I’ve heard this a thousand times. You sound exactly like Rafe the very first time I caught him. Rafe? I’ve come to expect this of him. But from you? Y/N, I thought you were better than this.”

You didn’t miss the scowl that crossed Rafe’s features at Ward’s words, and you realized that, even though you were the one on the receiving end of Ward’s criticism instead of Rafe for the first time, Ward still couldn’t help but put his son down too as he scolded you.

“From now on I will expect you to cease communication with all of those Pogues and you’re to be back in this house by 9PM every night. No exceptions. I can’t have you going out to god knows where.”

Your heart clenched at that, frustration threatening to bubble over into rage.

“Dad, come on, you’re being completely unreasonable!” Sarah shouted. “Y/N is not getting drugs from our friends!”

“Be quiet, Sarah, I wasn’t done.” Ward snapped at her. “I don’t want either of you hanging out on the Cut with those Pogues. And that goes for John B too.”

His gaze fixed on yours again, “give me your phone.”

“What?!”

“You’ll get it back tomorrow, don’t worry, but I need to have your location at all times. I can’t trust you after this, Y/N. You know how it is with…” Ward stopped himself from finishing his sentence, but everyone in the room knew exactly who he meant and you saw Rafe’s jaw tick in annoyance again.

Ward dismissed you and you ignored Rose and Sarah when they tried to talk to you in the hallway, instead choosing to rush to your room, slamming your door and grabbing a pillow to scream into.

When you arrived at the dinner table the next day and saw the only empty seat available, your heart sank.

Taking a deep breath, you steeled yourself before taking your seat next to Rafe, trying intensely to find interest in the otherwise ordinary pot roast on your plate to avoid looking over at your step brother.

Ward and your mother were already in the middle of a conversation and Sarah gave you a sympathetic smile when she noticed how uncomfortable you looked next to Rafe. Wheezie, who was completely oblivious to your argument with Ward, asked Sarah a question, diverting her attention away from you.

Rose turned to you, somewhat awkwardly, and inquired about your next semester. “Do you already know what classes you’re going to be taking?”

Despite the obvious tension that was still thick in the air between all of you, you appreciated your mom making an effort at least.

“I think I’m registered for Photography 3, Art History 3, Math, and a writing class. Maybe one more Gen Ed that I’m forgetting right now.”

“Ooh Photography is going to be fun for you, I bet! Remember when you used to take photos at Rafe’s football games? I always thought that was so cool,” Rose cheerily said.

“Um. Yeah, well we’ll see about his upcoming season. Maybe.”

“You and your friend, Mary used to go all the time didn’t you? Oh you two used to be so close.”

“Yeah well ever since she moved to-” you cut yourself off with a small gasp when you felt Rafe’s fingers grip your upper thigh before inching between your legs.

You couldn’t believe how brazen he was to do this at the dinner table in front of the entire family.

You squirmed uncomfortably, lightly slapping his hand quietly before clearing your throat, “Ever since Mary moved to New Orleans for college, we haven’t been talking as much.”

Your older step brother seemed determined to get a reaction out of you however, brushing past your silent protests to fit his hand between your legs. Your eyes widened and you shifted in your seat again as Rafe’s fingers danced past the fabric of your shorts and panties. When he dipped the tip of his finger inside of you, you had to bite your lip to stop from whimpering.

“Y/N?”

You realized that Rose was looking at you with a puzzled expression and she must have asked you another question.

“Um, what?” Your mouth felt dry, mind racing as you squeezed your thighs together, trying to get Rafe’s wandering hands off of you without raising the attention of your family. Your cheeks felt so hot, you were sure they could notice.

When you felt him push his finger deeper, forcing himself inside your slick walls past his knuckle, and beginning to stretch you out around his ring, a whimper slipped past your lips and you quickly coughed trying to cover up the sound.

“What is going on with you, young lady?” Ward asked, his patience with you clearly waning at your outbursts.

“Yeah, Y/N/N, you’re acting weird,” Rafe’s teasing tone was lost on everyone but you. And you loudly cursed when his finger twitched, curling inside of you to get more of a rise out of you.

“Fuck-!” Your chair scraped loudly as you pushed yourself away from the table and stood up.

Your entire family was staring at you now as you tried to correct your uneven breathing.

“I- I think I’m gonna be sick,” was all you managed before you stumbled from the dining room before running up the stairs to your room.

For a moment your family stared at each other in shocked confusion.

Rafe was the first to break the silence.

“She’s probably just going through withdrawals, lemme see if there’s any way I can help.” He stood from his chair, leaving his plate on the table.

“Should we come with you?” Rose offered, getting ready to stand before Rafe waved his hand, ‘no’

“Nah, I think she just needs her brother.”

Rafe put an ear to your door, opening it quietly and stepping inside after hearing a retching sound coming from your bathroom.

He closed the door behind himself, locking it gently, before following the faint light from the cracked door where the sounds had stopped and been replaced by you scrubbing down the inside of your mouth with a tooth brush.

When he knocked on the door, he heard you sigh before spitting out the rest of your toothpaste.

“Sarah, I don’t want to talk-” you had opened the door a bit, but you suddenly paused when you saw Rafe, tensing and shrinking in on yourself.

You tried to close your bathroom door, but Rafe’s hand shot out, easily outdoing the all strength you had put behind trying to keep him out. He pushed the door open and you backed up against the counter in fear.

When he shut the door behind him and locked it, your stomach lurched.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Rafe?” You hissed before lowering your voice for your next words, “why are you doing this now? When any of them could catch us?”

Your older step brother smirked, taking a step towards you and enjoying your distress at him bursting into your room.

“I think that would be your fault, sweetheart.”

He moved so fast you barely had time to react, pressing himself against you before both hands came to your shoulders, shoving you to your knees. You hit the ground painfully, letting out a whimper before meeting Rafe’s eyes as he loomed above you.

“Y’just can’t keep that pretty mouth shut, can you?” One of Rafe’s hands tangled into your hair, holding you beneath him, as the other found the button and zipper of his shorts, fumbling to undo them as quick as possible before pushing them down to his ankles.

“No, Rafe, please don’t!”

His boxers were next to go, and your pleading was cut off when he tugged you forward by your hair and forced his cock between your lips.

The salty taste made you want to gag, and you had to stretch your lips more to accommodate his size, flattening your tongue to the bottom of your jaw.

Startled, you tried to gasp for air, giving him access to slowly push himself deeper, his cock nudging the back of your throat, staying there and choking you until your pleading eyes went wide, tears beginning to build up along your waterline.

“You can take it, Y/N/N,” he whispered and you were confused when his encouragement made your clit tingle and butterflies fluttered in your stomach.

Rafe tilted his hips back, sliding himself out enough to allow you to take a much needed breath, but your relief was short lived when his grip on your hair tightened and he pushed his cock to the back of your throat again.

His thrusts were steady at first, and every time you choked or gagged on his cock when he pushed you too far, he let out a soft groan, fingers twitching in your hair as he played out his sick fantasies with you.

Despite already stealing your virginity away from you, watching you pathetically crying on your knees and choking on his cock was just another level of degradation. The fact that he was taking yet another first from you made this all the more thrilling for him.

The initial panic had worn off inside of you, all you could do now was focus on breathing through your nose and trying not the throw up from the feeling of your step brother’s dick sliding across your tongue and kissing the back of your throat.

His speed picked up and Rafe ignored you when you slapped at his leg in a desperate attempt for him to slow down.

Tears were steadily rolling down your red tinged cheeks now along with some spit that had escaped the corner of your lips due to Rafe’s brutal pace.

A sudden knock at the door made Rafe freeze, and he rolled his eyes and let out a quiet groan of frustration when he heard Sarah’s concerned voice.

“Y/N? Are you doing alright?”

“We’re fine!” Rafe snapped at her dismissively.

“I want hear that from, Y/N.” Sarah replied.

Rafe sighed before sliding his cock out of your mouth and leaning down to order you quietly.

You quietly caught your breath, pulse racing as you desperately willed Sarah to come in and help you.

“Tell our dumbass sister what a good job I’m doing cheering you up and then tell her to fuck off,” he hissed into your ear, his hot breath made you shiver.

You hesitated before Rafe yanked on your hair again and you bit back a yelp.

“I’m fine, Sarah, r-really. Rafe is um- helping me take care of it.” You struggled to keep your shaky voice under control.

Sarah was silent for a moment before her voice came from the other side of the door, “are you sure? You don’t sound okay.”

“I’m f-fine, I promise. I was just throwing up a bit.” You despised lying to her right now, especially considering how much help you actually did need in this moment.

“Yeah, she’d appreciate some privacy, Sarah,” Rafe snipped.

“Okay, Y/N, if you’re sure..” her voice trailed off and you knew she had left when you heard your bedroom door close.

Rafe wasted no time in grabbing your chin and forcing your mouth open before shoving his cock past your plump lips.

You slapped his thigh and he grunted, fingers lacing through your hair and sliding your lips back and forth on his cock as he stood still.

“Fuck-” he breathed through gritted teeth, his hips starting to move impulsively, thrusting forward when he pulled you in and forcing himself deeper down your throat.

When his fingers pulled at your hair again, holding you in place as he frantically fucked your throat, you knew he was close.

You took a gasping breath when he pulled his cock out. His hand wrapped around his length, stroking himself until white burst from the tip, splattering your face.

You closed your eyes as ropes of cum painted your lips, cheeks, and chin. The sticky sensation made your skin crawl and you felt like you were going to throw up again.

Disgust and humiliation boiled in your gut. You just wanted to disappear.

The sound of a camera lens snapping made your eyes split open.

Rafe chuckled when you registered the phone in his hand, turning the screen around to show you the degrading picture he had just taken.

“Y’ know,” he sniffed, looking over his shoulder at the closed door behind him. “I uh, wouldn’t tell anybody about this if I were you.”

Your stomach dropped at his words. You could feel any last chances you might have of rescue from your step brother slipping through your fingers.

“I’d just hate it if you decided to mess up your future over this.” You couldn’t stand the way he was speaking as if he was giving you any kind of choice in this situation. “You understand, right?”

Staring at up at your older brother from your knees as you watched him nonchalantly pull his shorts back up and discuss blackmailing you, as if this was all just a petty fight over nothing made you want to scream.

But you bit your tongue, not seeing any other choice but to agree with him.

“Yeah… I understand.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked over your defeated face, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips at seeing your pretty face painted with his cum.

“You should probably clean yourself up. Sarah’s still waiting on you.”

[facioleeknow]

The art of pleasure ch.3

Mars ° Seo Changbin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It’s only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY wc: 1.4k+

Warnings: fraternity skz, inexperienced reader, experienced changbin, oral m receiving, fancy dinner, alcohol mention, rich changbin, car sex in a way, coke can cock changbin

Chris-py boy <3:

How was it? Did he treat you well?

Damn he got you good mh

Are you alive?

Y/N????

I’m coming over

The activities with Minho had left you exhausted, both physically and mentally. Trying new things had always been tiring for you and paired with the physical tiredness, it wasn’t a surprise that you passed out as soon as you came home from the little date you two had. Minho had been kind and gentle through the whole date, his behavior perfectly gentlemanly. The words and touches and words you shared had left a warm feeling inside your belly that expanded and cradled you to sleep quickly. So you weren’t even a tad bit surprised when you woke up still with your clothes on, on top of your bed, what did surprise you was the arm that was around your shoulders and the warm chest your head laid on. An inhuman scream ripped from your throat.

“Why are you screaming?” a familiar voice.

“Why am I screaming? Why the hell are you here Chris??” you tried to pull yourself together, he was your best friend but he was still a hot guy in your bed.

“I texted you but you didn’t answer, I got worried.” You laid your head on him once again, your cheek squished against his hard body.

“Everything went well. Minho was very nice and kind,” you paused, thinking how to phrase your next thought, “he seems pretty skilled, if you know what I mean.” Thankfully he wasn’t looking at you, because he would’ve seen a look of pure embarrassment.

“He is, once we shared and the girl couldn’t stop talking about what he could do with his mouth,” Chan said nonchalantly, that man really had no shame.

“You have shared girls before me? And here I was thinking I was special,” you half joked.

“You are, we usually don’t invite the girls for ice cream after we fuck,” he giggled.

“Yeah alright mister playboy, get out of my room, I need sleep.”

The start of the week was always chaotic, but after your little weekend treat it seemed even worse than usual. Lessons had been so hard and draining that the only thing you could do once you got back to your room was study and sleep. When you woke up to start another day the cycle continued. Lessons, study, sleep. By the time Thursday rolled around you needed a long awaited break.

Unknown number:

Hey, this is Changbin 

I was wondering if I could take you out tonight and then have our lesson 

The repeated pings from your phone broke the atmosphere of focus and desperation that filled the room. 

‘Shit the lessons, I forgot,’ you thought.

You:

Hey Changbin

Yes, tonight works for me, do you have a place in mind??

Changbin:

It's a surprise eheh, wear something fancy

See you tonight

The secrecy was killing you. The books were quickly pushed aside to make space for new more pressing matters. Suddenly your wardrobe felt empty and nothing looked good on you. You hated fashion emergencies.

By the time you had pulled yourself together, it was time to leave. Changbin was already waiting for you in front of your dorm, in a black expensive looking car.

“Hey, thank you for picking me up,” you greeted as soon as you got inside. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Black slacks and a white button up hugged his muscles in all the right places, his sleeves were rolled over your forearms so deliciously that you almost asked him to skip the dinner. Almost.

“I couldn't let a lady walk alone in the dark,” Changing offered you a smile before driving away. Seeing the world from inside a stupidly expensive car was a whole new experience, so good that you spent the whole journey gawking out of the window. You felt almost sad  when the car stopped in front of a restaurant that looked too expensive to exist. 

In a matter of seconds Changbin was at your door opening it for you. 

“Thank you.”

After helping you out, Changbin gently placed his warm hand on the small of your back, giving you enough time to push him away. You didn't, it was comforting, you liked the feeling of his hands on your body.

The inside of the restaurant was even more dashing, everything tied together beautifully. You felt out of place but at home at the same time thanks to the man at your side. Your thoughts swirled and filled your head so much that you only realized that you had arrived at your table when Changbin gently pushed a glass of champagne against your hand.

“To you and how beautiful you look tonight,” he raised his glass.

“Thank you for all of this Changbin.” Your glasses clinked together.

Changbin was funny and respectful on top of being stupid hot. He made you laugh and the dinner passed in a blur of exquisite food and teary laughs.

“I had a good time tonight.” Unlike the last time you were in the car you were looking straight into his eyes..

“I'm glad, I didn't know if it was too much, I didn't want to overwhelm you,” he chuckled, that small and cute chuckle that only Changing could make.

“Every girl wants to be pampered like that, I assure you. You didn't have to pay tho, I feel bad.”

“Don't worry, money is not a problem for me.” He laid his hand on your thigh. During the dinner the volume of your laughs wasn't the only thing growing, your pussy was absolutely drenched and you couldn't help but rub your legs together every once in a while.

“Changbin, I want to touch you.” You didn't care if you sounded desperate, you didn't care if you sounded petulant. You need him, you were going to die if you didn't have his dick in your mouth in the next five minutes.

“Are you sure? Is that what you want to do today?” he tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, please can I touch you?” he didn't answer but pressed your hand directly on his bulge. He felt hard and warm. You wasted no time in opening up his pants and tugging them down with his underwear, you don't know what over you but all shyness was thrown out the window replaced by intense burning desire. 

His cock was exactly like him, not the longest but deliciously thick, so much that you knew your jaw would ache the next day.

“Don't worry baby, I'll guide you through it. Do what feels comfortable,” his words spurred you on and you reached down to wrap your hand around him. His skin felt hot and soft, it turned you on. In a second your mouth was on him. Small kitten licks were placed all around his girth. 

“Just like that baby, enjoy yourself,” Changbin assured you with a breathy voice.

You liked the taste of him, it was intoxicating, you wanted more. The sides of your mouth stretched and burned when you took him into your mouth. The weight of his cock on your tongue felt welcome and you moaned at the sensation which sent Changbin into his own series of whimpers.

“Touch my balls pretty.” You complied without having to be told twice. 

His balls were big and round, perfect to feel in your hands and to play with. Your head bobbed mercilessly up and down while you felt around his sack.

“God baby, I'm so wound up, I think I'm gonna cum.” You moaned again, trying to tell him that you needed it, you needed his release down your throat like you needed air. But taking your mouth off his dick was not an option, so you just sped up your ministrations. Wet sound from your throat and hand filled the car and pushed Changbin over the edge.

“Pretty, you sound so-” a long, breathy moan cut his sentence in the middle and his warm release shot down your throat. 

His muscles finally relaxed and he fully laid against the car seat, he was beautiful and the fact that you had the power to make him a breathy mess was even more beautiful.

“Come here,” he grabbed the back of your neck and placed a gentle, affectionate kiss on your lips.

“Remember, real men kiss women after they cum in their mouths.”

“I will,” you giggled. Silence fell on you two. Changbin’s chest rose and fell slowly, he was happy and so were you. His hand lightly caressed your face.

“How about a second date?”

[luciantapes]

The forgotten child

Pairing's : fem! reader x peter parker, tony stark daughter! x tony stark, tony stark daughter! x peter parker

Warnings: really sad angst, jealousy, daddy issues, neglect, lmk if i missed anything! :)

Summary: dad of the year award? surely isn't going too him

a/n : I know the gif doesn't really match the theme of this story I just really liked it. I did not reread this so please ignore any grammar mistakes. Also, I'm not sure if i wrote a panic attack correctly but I wrote based on what their like for me. hope you all enjoy!

you really tried not to become the forgotten child, always tried you're very hardest to live up to your father expectations, trying to make him proud in hope's he'd show some form of attention.

always studying to get straight a's even through countless anxiety attacks from fear of failing and disappointing your father.

all you ever wanted was reassurance, and if you ever got lucky enough a "You did a good job" after getting a high score on a test.

but it never came, it would forever be something you longed to hear. he would usually just mumble a small, quiet "congrats" as his mind stayed focused on his work and his eyes stuck to the blueprint laid out on the table Infront of him.

you always tried you're best not to feel jealous whenever your father held morgan, you had no ressentiment towards morgan whatsoever, in fact she was the one that kept you smiling most days. although you couldn't help but feel your heart tighten from jealousy as you watched them have daddy daughter time

you really did try you're best to be happy for your younger sister, but you couldn't ignore that aching feeling. all you wanted was the attention she had that your heart ached so desperately for, but it never came despite your countless attempts.

you we're astound to hear a new avenger had been recruited, you always enjoyed meeting new people. mainly because they gave you attention they didn't even know you craved.

you always seeked to see the best in people, no matter what the circumstances we're. including peter parker, there was nothing wrong with him, he wasn't a bad person in fact quite a good one, and if you weren't so envious of him you possibly could have been friends with the boy. but you watched how peter and your father clicked so easily becoming like father and son.

it made the knots in your stomach tighten as you watched them spend time together, it made you feel as if something was wrong with you, like maybe if you tried harder or changed, he'd give you the attention you deserved.

your mother, pepper always said he loved you just as much as he loved morgan or even peter, but you knew the truth as much as you ignored it you knew. but oh, how you wish he did.

"Mom, I'm home" you called out knowing if father was home, he wouldn't answer you. after not receiving an answer, you decided to look through the house in search of your mother, after a couple of minutes searching you still hadn't found her and decided she probably went out and took morgan with her. you heard talking but it sounded like your father, and peter?? "what's peter doing here?" you wondered. you decided to peak you're head through the door and saw peter and tony standing with their backs faced away from you, working on some upgrades for peter's suit.

"you're a pretty great kid peter" tony told him as he smiled at him patting his shoulder. a wave of jealously hit your chest as you watched them, your throat tightening. "Thank you, Mr. stark," peter smiled cheekily as your fingers clenched into a fist at your side.

"Becoming like my son."

once those words left Tony's lips, your mouth went dry, your head aching as you backed away from the door as quietly as possible, you're breathing picking up rapidly. you quickly made your way to your room, tears forming in your eyes, you walked into your room and shut the door softly as your hands started shaking as you paced around your room quickly, trying to stop the tears from rolling down your cheeks. you never liked crying, it made you feel weak.

you're breathing came out in heavy gasp as you struggled to breathe. you leaned against the wall coughing as you squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to stop the words from replaying in your mind.

"Becoming like my son" continuously echoed through your head as soft sobs left your lips, you didn't want to feel this way, envious of what your father and peter had. it's not peter's fault about what your father feels about you so why hold him accountable. he'll never love you, at least not like he loves peter. you can't figure out why? you always tried you're best to impress him, but nothing seemed to be enough for him, it's like he didn't even care about your existence.

you stumbled over to your bed, taking deep breathes as your body grew exhausted from crying. you plopped down on your bed tiredly as you snuggled up against your blanket that was where your pillows we're supposed to be, you grabbed a pillow and hugged it too sleep.

you didn't want to put the blame on peter because it wasn't his fault, but a little piece of your heart blamed peter parker.

a/n: CLIFFHANGER!?!? I decided to leave it for now because I haven't come up with an ending that I thought fit the way I wanted so if you guys have ideas, please let me know. reblog's are highly appreciated, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed!

[writeonwhiskey]

the skz house: ch 17

a/n: thank you to @bahablastplz for editing. check out her writing if you haven't already! she's amazing.

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’. You're one of the four girls chosen and find that your duties for the rest of the school year will be cooking, cleaning, and pleasing your assigned house members: Hyunjin & Chan.

[ read chapter sixteen here ]

Chapter Seventeen: Of Futures & Flights

Lee Know was right—your least favorite string of words in the English language. Hyunjin will be going to Korea for winter break and now your only option is to see what Chan has planned. You knock on the door to his room before entering. He’s sitting at his desk, laptop in front of him. He turns to face you as you enter. A hint of a smile tugs at his lips when he sees you and you immediately feel your face flush. 

“Hey,” you say meekly. 

Lately with just one look from him you’re overcome with flashbacks of being handcuffed to his bed. And he knows it. It hadn’t been awkward or uncomfortable in the days that followed, but he certainly was finding a lot of joy in catching your eye from across the room and winking or smirking. He always got a kick out of your reaction. 

“Hey,” he replies smoothly.

You walk over to your bed and sit on the edge, facing him.

“I wanted to ask about your plan for winter break,” you cut straight to the chase. “Are you going to visit your family?”

“Maybe. Why?” he asks, crossing his hands in front of his chest as he leans back in the chair. “Got a more tempting suggestion?”

Of course, he must already have some idea why you’re here. Lee Know or Hyunjin could have mentioned it. But he wants to hear you ask anyways.

“I want to use the trip I won around that time and Hyunjin is going home, so…”

“So…I’m your backup?”

“N-No,” you stutter. Though you can’t deny how it must come off from his point of view. 

“Hmmm,” he hums, not taking his eyes off you. “Where you planning to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere warm, like Miami. I’ve never been.”

“And you actually want me to go with you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow. “You could take one of the other members.” 

Is he suggesting that you should choose someone else? That he doesn’t want to go with you? He does so damn well at playing serious when he’s messing with you, you can never tell.

“I’d prefer to spend it with you…”

“Since Hyunjin isn’t available?”

“Chan.” you sigh. 

He chuckles at your exasperation and gives up. 

“I’ll go.”

You wish you had something nearby on the bed to hit him with. Internally you’re jumping for joy. 

The next day, you’re in the kitchen with plastic gloves on your hands. Hyunjin’s long body is laying on the marble countertop, feet hanging off the edge, head over the sink with a folded towel under his neck for support. He has hands clasped in the center of his chest. A bottle of black hair dye sits next to the faucet as you work your fingers through his newly darkened locs to rinse it out.

You keep turning your head to the side as you work, trying to fully picture him with dark hair as you’ve only ever seen him as a bleached blonde. The darker strands definitely look more natural on him and enhance his features.

It’s finals week and you’ve decided to take a break from reading to help Hyunjin out. The house has been relatively calm lately as everyone cracks down on studying. Some go at it alone, others pair up to quiz each other. 

“Would your parents really lose their shit if you came home with blonde hair?” you ask, turning the water off when the black dye has finally stopped dripping.

“Yeah ,” he replies. “And that’s an understatement. My dad would behead me, then drag my headless body around before letting me show up at company events like that. It’s ‘unprofessional’,” he says, using air quotes.

He jokes about it so casually, but it makes you wonder what their parents are like. It’s so different to the supportive upbringing you had. Well, it is supportive in a way—their parents are doing what they believe is best for their child’s future. It just seems like it doesn’t leave room for them to be themselves once they return home.

You know, from talking to Han, the general idea of what’s expected of them after graduation. You previously assumed, though, that just meant a continued sexual relationship was off the table. After what Lee Know said, you now understand that you are forbidden to have contact with them at all.

As you’ve grown more curious about it, Hyunjin has been rather receptive of your prying questions. When you asked why he was so open, he mentioned the NDA in that cursed contract you skim read through in desperation all those weeks ago.

“So do you immediately start working after you graduate?” you ask, taking off the plastic gloves and setting them aside.

“Not straight away. There will be a few months spent doing whatever I want…traveling, probably. Then I’ll work directly under my father. Essentially until he’s ready to retire or trusts that I won’t fuck up the family business.”

This feels like such a heavy topic, but Hyunjin grazes over it with ease. Like it’s not a big deal. From his perspective, maybe it isn’t. He’s known the path his life would take since he was very young. They all do. There isn’t much to guess or worry about like most of us. Hell, it doesn’t seem like they get to choose much of anything for themselves. Your thoughts drift to Chan for a second as you wring the water out from Hyunjin’s hair. 

You take the towel from under his head and guide him to sit up so you can dry it.

“And when it comes to love and marriage and children and all that…what sort of freedom do you have?”

Hyunjin makes a face like he’s going to throw up at your words. You roll your eyes and throw one end of the towel at him, so it covers his dramatic face.

“Come upstairs,” you say as you walk out of the kitchen.

When you’re both back in his room, after he stopped to grab his blow dryer, you have him sit in his desk chair. You stand behind him, combing your fingers through his hair.

“So…marriage, love? What’s that look like for you guys?” you ask again.

“At some point I’ll be encouraged to date, then marry. Exclusively from a list of women vetted by my parents,” he tells you.

You chew on your bottom lip; thankful he’s not looking directly at you. From your perspective, it all sounds concerning the more you learn, but you know it’s not your place to speak on it. What is there for you to even say? They’ve probably all already come to terms with it. Would your opinion even matter? In the grand scheme of things, you living with them this year is just a blip on their radar.

“Like an arranged marriage?”

“Kinda,” he says nonchalantly. “I will have some say in it, though.”

You turn on the blow dryer, using it as a distraction to sort through the thoughts arising from the information he provided.

Hyunjin previously mentioned the main function of the SKZ house was to provide them the ability to focus on their studies without allowing love and romance to distract them. Having a dedicated girl each year to meet their needs…to take care of them in more ways than one. It’s almost like this is a trial run for their futures. Though, from the sounds of it, the women vetted by their parents will probably also come from wealthy families and possess the feminine qualities they desire in a daughter-in-law. Certainly no one like you.

You grew up fairly well–your mom and dad played active roles in your upbringing. They were able to dote on you as an only child and you don’t recall ever wanting for much. You weren’t poor, but nowhere near the level of wealth their families have amassed. They supported you with all they had and there was never much fuss or drama. You’ve always been a good kid with your head on straight–focused on your own dreams and goals.

Having gotten to know Hyunjin the past couple of months, you know one day he will make an amazing husband. He’s gentle when needed, thoughtful, caring and extremely empathetic, while still maintaining his masculinity. Which makes him even more attractive. Chan, on the other hand…

You feel a sharp pain in your chest–maybe Chan is holding back with you because he’s saving himself or really only willing to open up to his future wife. That hurts to think about. 

You turn the blow dryer off and sit it on the desk. Hyunjin reaches out for your hand and pulls you around the front of the chair. You sit on his lap, straddling him and cupping his face with your hands.

You take in his new appearance. His blow-dried hair looks full and fluffy, and it’s grown a lot in length, reaching beneath his collar bones. The dark hair looks good on him—it gives meaning to the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ trope.

“What happens if you don’t like anyone on the list?”

“They’ll compile another one,” he shrugs.

“That seems unfair,” you reply. “What if you meet someone organically and fall in love?”

“I could date them,” he says, hands sliding up your thighs to rest on your hips. “But nothing would come of it.”

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

He considers the question for a beat.

“Not in the way you might think,” he replies.

“Well, I think anyone would be right to be bothered at having so little say in the outcome of their life…”

“I don’t mind that aspect of it. Being on this path ensures I will live a good life,” he says matter-of-factly. 

“What’s your take on it, then?” you ask, making note that he said good life and not happy.

“I’ve never been fond of the ‘forever partner’ idea.”

You lean back a little, sliding your hands down to his shoulders. You’re a little surprised at his words. The kind, caring and doting Hyunjin? Does not believe in soulmates? 

“I have no problem being committed and dedicated to one woman at a time, but…forever?” he asks rhetorically. “I think we’re meant to connect on a deep level with a lot of people at different times in our lives. Do you know how many people there are on this planet? And I’m supposed to find a lifelong match from a list? To meet all my needs, even as they change over time?”

You can completely understand, and have experienced, his commitment and loyalty in the way he immediately opened up to you and was there for you. But maybe this experience has made him grow accustomed to having a new woman in his life every year. 

“New people make things exciting and fresh,” he continues as he slips his thumbs beneath the hem of your shirt, rubbing circles against your skin, “…how you meet, learning about them, being intimate with them.”

You had never taken him for the playboy type. Though the way he’s explaining it doesn’t sound like he will be running around trying to fuck anything that walks. Just that he’d prefer to entertain the idea of a woman without any real commitment for certain stretches of time, for the rest of his life. 

“So you worry you’ll become bored?” you ask. 

“Maybe,” he answers honestly, as always. “I don’t doubt my ability to remain faithful—to be a good dad and husband when the time comes. But I do want to take my time getting there. I’m in no rush. Maybe in 30 years or so.”

You roll your eyes at that.

“I cannot with you,” you say, reaching your hands up to run them through his newly darkened locs. You tug on the strands, and he tilts his head back, shutting his eyes. 

His hands fall from your hips to cup your ass. In one swift move he stands, holding you to him as he walks towards the bed. You rest your forehead against his, and nuzzle his nose.

“Well. I certainly can with you.” He gives your lips a peck with his before tossing you onto the bed. 

You squeal as you land, then start moving backwards on the bed. You can’t help but smile and giggle as he crawls towards you. His dark, fluffy hair falls in front of his eyes and he looks so fucking sexy as he looks down at you.

“Where you going, jagiya?” He asks, straightening his back but still on his knees. He reaches for your leg. “Two weeks without you? We have to make up for the time we’re losing.”

You let out another squeal as he grabs your leg and pulls you towards him. He places his arms on either side of you, caging you in, in the best way possible. You hook your arms around his neck and pull him down towards you. 

After finals are done, it feels like there’s less tension in the house. Everyone’s interacting again versus being huddled up in a corner studying. The house steadily becomes empty as those who are going away for break take their leave. You drop Hyunjin at the airport and try not to think of what it will be like when you have to say goodbye to him for good.

Soon enough, it’s your turn to get dropped off at the airport. Jeongin and Charlotte wave goodbye to you and Chan. They’ll both have the house alone until Jeongin leaves for Korea and you can only imagine what they’ll get up to. You make a mental note to sanitize every communal surface when you get back. 

In the airport, you and Chan barely speak. He has his headphones on and keeps a blank expression plastered to his face. The last couple days his mood seemed to turn sour, and you have no idea what caused it. You have an uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach–this is exactly how you did not want to spend the trip.

You busy yourself with checking the destination on your ticket multiple times. With Lee Know in charge of organizing this trip, you couldn’t be sure enough that he hadn’t booked you a flight to Miami, Oklahoma instead of Miami, Florida. 

A few hours later, you and Chan are settled into your business class seats. A few minutes after takeoff, you finally release his hand you’d been clutching for dear life. 

“Sorry,” you apologize, watching him stretch his fingers out. 

He reclines his seat a bit and shifts around to get comfortable. He leans back in the seat and closes his eyes. You lift the window shade and look out at the clouds as you fly through them, trying your best to tame your annoyance. 

You don’t know how long passes, but being an overthinker you’ve gone through several scenarios and outcomes about how this trip could crash and burn if you don’t say something now. You can’t just let his silence go unchecked. You refuse to spend your vacation, that he agreed to come on, this way. You reach over to move his headphones from his right ear. 

“Chan,” you begin, “I haven’t had a real vacation, alone and not with my parents, in almost two years so I’m really looking forward to this, but…”

He’s absentmindedly chewing on his bottom lip as he listens. 

“You’ve been in a shitty mood the last couple days. I want this to be a good trip, I want us to have fun…if you were planning to be miserable, you really didn’t have to come.”

“Planning to be miserable?” He repeats. 

“Your sudden change in attitude?” You shrug. “I would have rather rescheduled the trip, if you were going to be like this. And don’t say like what—you know how you’re treating me.” 

He becomes quiet at your words. You feel proud of yourself for getting them out. There’s no way he doesn’t realize when he’s shutting you out. You look away from him, seeing the stewardess start coming down the aisle with her cart. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I wanna take this trip with you, y/n, I just have a lot on my mind right now.”

“You always say that,” you shake your head. 

“That doesn’t mean it’s not true,” he replies. 

You let out a soft sigh. 

“Well, isn’t that what vacations are for?” you ask. “You can travel somewhere far away and leave all the bullshit behind. Forget about school…the future,” you look away from him at that, “you can be someone entirely different when you get to your destination. For a little while, anyway.”

He mulls your words over. 

“Is that what we’re doing?” He pulls his headphones down, so they hang around his neck. 

It certainly hadn’t been your intention, but you spot the sudden playful glint in his eyes and nod your head. You want to smack him. Or yourself. You cannot figure out if it’s him and his bad mood that causes the tension, or you allowing him to sulk in it instead of confronting him about it. 

“And who are we pretending to be?” 

You shrug, “Hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

The stewardess stops next to him with her cart, smiling as she opens the cabinet and produces two champagne flutes. She then fills them up with wine. She hasn’t even asked your drink choice, so you assume she’s preparing it for the pair across the aisle. When she politely reaches over Chan to pull out your tray and sits the drink down, you throw a confused look at him. 

Maybe it’s complimentary…but still, wouldn’t she ask if you wanted it?

“I’m sorry,” you finally speak up. “We didn’t ordered this…could I just get a Sprite?”

“Oh, of course, dear,” she says, but still proceeds to pull out Chan’s tray and sits a drink in front of him too. “These drinks are free to you, on behalf of the flight crew. Congratulations on your engagement–future Mr. and Mrs. Bang.”

You stare and blink, dumbfounded. 

Chan clicks his tongue and mutters something in Korean under his breath. 

“Thank you,” he says with a tight-lipped smile. 

“My pleasure,” she replies. “What else can I get you, sir?”

“Water, please,” he tells her. 

She provides you both a cup filled with ice, and your requested Sprite and water before turning to assist the pair on the other side of the aisle. 

“I’m gonna fucking strangle Lee Know,” you say through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, he’s the first call I’m making when we land,” he concurs. 

The man can’t even be trusted to book flight tickets without some kind of shenanigans attached to it. 

Chan picks up his wine glass and sighs, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. 

“I guess we have our roles,” he says, tilting the rim of his glass towards you. 

You grab your own, but don’t cheers his yet. 

“I don’t know…I was thinking more along the lines of coworkers on a business trip or annoying vloggers or something like that,” you tell him. 

“So you wanna call off the engagement already?” He asks, feigning a hurt look. 

It never ceases to baffle you–how quickly he can go from cold and distant to warm and teasing you. And vice versa. 

“You’re okay with pretending to be my fiancé?” 

He shrugs, “It could be fun. It’ll help take my mind off some things.”

“Really?”

“I’m a committed actor. Very convincing…don’t you remember?”

Of course you remember his stint as Professor Bang. You wouldn’t mind taking a class with him again. But this? Chan pretending to be your fiancé? After your talk with Hyunjin, you know you won’t ever know what it’s like to actually even date him. Let alone fathom marrying him. 

“Okay,” you reply, choosing to indulge. You tap your glass against his before taking a drink. 

You’re so happy that the dark cloud looming over him seems to have dissipated, that it doesn’t even cross your mind how much you might regret this later. Having a sample of this version of Chan? It’s like you’re setting yourself up to get hurt. But you’ll keep telling yourself you’re strong enough to remember it’s not real. That when the time comes to say goodbye to this man, you won’t think about these moments and what could have been. You’ll keep lying to yourself this entire trip.

[ read chapter 18 here ]

a/n: the chan we've been dying to experience is almost here. thank you all so much for your continued support. your feedback, comments, asks, reblogs, etc., ALL your interactions fill my heart with happiness. it encourages me to write more because i don't want to leave you all hanging for too long lol but seriously, tysm!

taglist: i have no idea why it's not letting me tag everyone. i know there's a limit of tags per post but even if i type less than the limit, it's not working :( tagging on hiatus til I can figure it out, i'm sorry.

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss Ch.1: Rhysand x Reader x Azriel

Chapter Warnings: Mild Smut, Angst, 18+

Ch.2

***

You woke early, the sun shining softly through the windows. You turned, watching the even rise and fall of your loves chest, sunlight highlighting the golden skin. You wished you could preserve this moment, the peace on his face. He carried too much, wound himself up too tight. You reached a hand out, brushing some of the midnight black hair off his face. His eyes fluttered open at your touch, violet blinking blearily at you.

“Good morning, my darling.” Rhys murmured, voice thick with sleep. You smiled down at him, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He groaned softly, reaching up to pull you on top of him. You broke the kiss, laughing at the pout on his face.

“Needy, needy boy.” You teased, feeling his fingers dig into your waist. You loved how insatiable he was with you, how desired he made you feel. You pushed your hips down onto his, fire sparking in you at the noise he made.

“Stop teasing,” he growled, pulling your lips back to his. You smiled into the kiss, at his hands tracing down the curve of your ass, grabbing onto the back of your thighs. You opened your mouth for him, giving a soft moan as his tongue overtook yours.

You were interrupted by the door to your room slamming open. You froze, the both of you turning your heads to see Azriel standing there. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else, a light blush on his face. He looked at the ceiling, pretending he didn’t see you straddling the High Lord, both of you dressed in only your underthings.

Rhys looked at him accusingly, one hand on your thigh sliding around to your front. You jumped as he rubbed you through your underwear, biting your lip to keep quiet. “Well?” He demanded, sliding his fingers under the soft fabric covering you. “What is so important you feel the need to interrupt my morning with my wife?” You whimpered when his finger deftly circled you, embarrassment coloring your cheeks at Azriel standing mere feet away.

“Sorry, Brother. There is a female from Hybern in Prythian, meeting with all the High Lords. She has requested to meet with you tonight.” Azriel informed, trying hard to not show the way your sounds were affecting him. Rhys noticed the scent coming from him, a low growl in his chest. He wasted no time in sliding two fingers into you, expertly hitting that spot he knew made you tick. You gasped out his name, nails digging into his bare chest below you.

“Fine. Tell her I agree.” He said, curling his fingers in and out of you. “Now leave. I must tend to my girls needs.” Azriel was gone in a second, the door slamming shut behind him. Rhys looked back at you, a devious smile on his face as you continued to moan and whimper for him.

“Where were we?”

***

You found Azriel shortly before the meeting that night. You knew Rhys was protective, that he liked showing off what was his. He had never gone quite that far before, but something about Azriel made him extra touchy. You weren’t sure why, the Shadowsinger had never said or done anything outside of normal friendship to you. Honestly, Cassian was the one who flirted with you and made sure to touch you a little too long. Yet Rhys never acted this way towards him.

You knocked on the open door to the room he used in the townhouse, seeing him looking over something on the desk. He turned and gave you a small smile, motioning for you to come in. You walked over to him, leaning against the desk to face him. “What can I do for you?” He asked politely, always so kind.

“I wanted to apologize,” you started, “for Rhys. I do not know why he acts that way to you. It was incredibly inappropriate of him to do that while you were there, especially when you were just trying to deliver important information.” You studied his face for any discomfort, any sign of upset. Azriel was your dearest friend, and you didn’t love how your husband teased him.

Az shook his head, a small laugh coming from him. “It is okay, do not worry. I am aware of how … territorial Rhys is.” You laughed with him, not able to argue that. You opened your arms, beckoning him into an embrace. Azriel wrapped his arms around your waist, tucking his head against your chest. The two of you stood like that for a few minutes. You knew this brought him comfort, a feeling of love and safety he struggled with. When you first became friends you often shared the same bed, holding each other through the night.

Until Rhys started courting you, that is.

You pressed a sweet kiss to the top of his head, pulling away. “I have to go make sure my husband is ready, and that his attitude is in check.” You said, giving a goodbye as you left the room. Azriels laugh followed you into the hallway.

You found your husband in the living room, waiting to winnow you to the Hewn City. He turned to you with a wide smile. “Come, my love.” He said, holding his hand out to you. You allowed him to pull you into a kiss, holding you tight. He began kissing down your neck, nose brushing your skin when he stilled. “Where were you?” He asked, the words laced with jealousy.

You shook your head at him, bringing his eyes up to yours. “Husband,” you said, reminding him of who he was to you and you alone, “I was apologizing to Azriel for your actions this morning.” Rhys scoffed, a wicked smile coming across his face.

“He should learn to knock.” He said with a shrug, dipping down to kiss you again. You melted into his touch, into the love radiating from him. Life with Rhys had been such a dream, a blissful existence. A hundred years of marriage and the two of you were just as lovesick as the day you said your vows.

“Alright, enough!” A dramatic shout interrupted you, Cassian fake gagging. “We don’t all want to see you sucking face every second of the day.” You rolled your eyes at the General, holding tight to Rhys as he winnowed you away. You strode confidently next to him as you walked into the throne room, always a step behind. Allowing him to command all the attention.

Rhys settled on his throne, you standing slightly behind to his right. Cassian took his left, Azriel next him and Mor next to you. You stood tall, strong, intimidating. The dark wife to the cruel High Lord.

The doors to the throne room burst open and in walked a red headed female, dressed in a seductive maroon gown. She bowed deeply to Rhys, her cleavage on full display for him. Now it was your turn to be jealous, your hands folding tightly in front of you. “My Lord,” she crooned, standing up straight. “We thank you for allowing us your time.” You didn’t miss the way her eyes were devouring your husband, lust clearly visible.

You didn’t like her one bit.

***

You begged Rhys not to go, running after him out the door. Tears were streaming down your face, your hand desperately grasping his. “You know there’s a good chance this is a trick, my love. Do not risk yourself like this.” You cried, turning him to look at you. He cupped your face gently, a million emotions swimming in his eyes.

“I know, but if I don’t go it will only cause trouble for you. I can’t let you get hurt. Please,” he whispered, lips pressing to your forehead. “Let me go. I will be gone at the first sign of trouble.” He pressed a hard kiss to your lips, holding you tight. You cried against him, refusing to let go. “Cass.” Rhys commanded to the General behind you, strong arms pulling you off your husband.

“No! No! Rhys!” You screamed, watching as he winnowed away. You collapsed into Cassians hold, dread and fear taking over your mind. He carried you inside, setting you on the couch. He didn’t seem to know what to do, having never seen you so upset before.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, trying to soothe your crying. “Rhys is the most powerful High Lord of all time. If it ends up being a trap, he will be out of there before anyone can blink.” You shook your head, tears coming faster.

“I don’t think so, Cass. I don’t trust Amarantha. She’s more clever than we give her credit for.” Your words were hoarse, voice tired from the screaming and crying. The heavy feeling in your heart was crushing you, panic threatening to overwhelm at any second.

Cassian pulled you into his arms, better with physical affection than words. “It’s going to be okay. I promise, I promise.” He murmured into your hair, holding you as you cried.

***

It had been 49 years since you saw your husband. You could still hear his last message to you, swirling around your head while you laid awake at night. You had screamed, cried, fought, pain overtaking you when his message came through. It was weeks before you left your room, months before you allowed one of Cassians jokes to pull a smile from you.

You were broken. Half of yourself, the other half trapped under that mountain with Amarantha. Velaris was completely locked down after Rhys was taken, no information coming in or out. You had no idea what was going on down there, what had happened to your husband. You knew it was for everyone’s safety that you remained here, but it still took everything in you to keep from running there yourself.

You were sitting in the living room reading a book when darkness swirled throughout the room. A very familiar darkness. You shot to your feet, running to the shape becoming visible on the rug. You yelled for your friends, hearing them come running. You slid to your knees in front of your husband, grabbing his hands in yours. Tears fell from your face, taking in his pale skin, the haggard look on his face. He looked up, eyes going right past you. You turned to see him looking at Mor, not even reacting to you in front of him. You ignored the hurt in your heart at the way his hands didn’t even hold yours, reminding yourself that you have no idea what he may have gone through over these decades away.

“She’s my mate.” He croaked out, eyes locked onto his cousin. “The cursebreaker.”

***

Here’s chapter one to my new series!! I am so excited to get the next few chapters out to you all. This first one was a little short, but the next ones will be more in depth. Please let me know your thoughts <3

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 6 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: date anxiety, Sam Hwang, OC had a pothead phase in high school, cursing, probably the worst date of OC's life, alcohol, peach, jungkook is a drunk mess, mentions of throwing up, explicit content: mentions of jungkook and oc having sex

☆word count: 9.6k

☆a/n: in this one, jungkook and OC proceed to be frustrating again :') hope you enjoy haha <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, March 1st 

You count the water drops on the vitrine of the restaurant.

One, two, three, though the third joins the second to merge into a single, bigger one. 

It’s all you can do to quell your nerves as you’re surrounded by the low chatter of the other patrons in the restaurant. You’re sitting next to the window, looking at the world outside. It’s unusually warm today, and the snow turned into rain earlier, though you know it will ice as soon as the temperature drops again. It feels like déjà-vu, like you’re stepping back to Valentine’s Day, though the company will be different tonight.

You’ve been avoiding Jungkook, and he’s been avoiding you. In truth, you don’t even think you’ve seen him once since last Sunday. He’d come home while you were eating dinner in the kitchen, and he’d walked in, patted your head, and grabbed a glass of water. When he’d stayed, leaning against the counter and looking at you, you’d asked him what he wanted.

He’d only frowned and said you were weird, and that had been that. 

To be fair, you know what he wanted. Or at least what he deserved. Apologies, that is, for the way you spoke to him at the bar. But you haven’t been able to give him any. Maybe because it pushed him away, rebuilt the true distance between the two of you as if nothing ever happened. It’s safer that way, especially considering how involved you’d already gotten after just a few days.

Then again, you get why feelings would grow so easily with him. It’s the risk that comes with him, the thrill of doing something you shouldn’t do. As a kid, that same thrill had always made you fall more on the bad side, though you’d always been good in school. But did you have a pothead phase in your last two years of high school? Yes, you did.

Looking at yourself today, you think you made it out of it pretty well after all.

You sigh, glancing at the time on your phone. He’s late. You don’t know why you’re surprised he’s late – Sam Hwang has shown time and time again that he cannot be trusted. And frankly, you don’t know why you’re here.

Why after last week’s shit show and what happened last summer, you still agreed to meet up at a restaurant that’s definitely over your budget. 

Another sigh escapes your chest, and you tap your feet under the chair, anxiety spiking through you. You feel foolish and dumb and everything in between, and you’re starting to want to head home when he finally appears outside, heading for the door.

Your heart stops in your chest. As a matter of fact, you think it’s dropped to your ass before Sam makes it to your table, apologizing profusely. He’s dripping water, and you realize he’s walked all the way here.

You do find it in yourself to feel bad for him, just a little bit. Because you’re careful around him, afraid he’ll just hurt you again. 

“Sup,” Sam says as he finally sits in front of you, pushing his long hair back. “Shit, it’s cold.”

You grab your scarf, handing it to him. “Put this on, it’ll help.”

He hesitates for a few seconds, holding your gaze as if to make sure this is not a trick, and then he finally takes the scarf. He sighs in contentment as he wraps it around himself, before saying, “Your perfume smells really good.”

You know. You know because Hoseok once told you the same, and so did Jungkook. 

“Thanks,” you say, looking down at your glass of water.

There’s an awkward silence, as if Sam is expecting you to say anything else, but you can’t find for the life of yourself anything to say. So you busy yourself with looking through the menu, reining in your wince as you notice just how much out of your budget this restaurant is.

“Long week?” Sam asks as he starts leafing through his own menu, though he keeps a careful eye on you the whole time.

You nod. “Had some lab reports for two classes due tonight,” you tell him. “Managed to get them done but they drained me.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t too bad,” he says, laughing lightly. “You’ve always been a smart ass.”

You purse your lips, cheeks dusting with pink. “Thanks.” You clear your throat, meeting his gaze just long enough to ask, “What about you? How was your week?”

Then your eyes fall back to the comfort of the menu, and you try to figure out if ordering an appetizer for dinner would look bad.

“It was great,” he says. “I didn’t have much to do for classes, so I just chilled. Spent some time with Jake and Soobin.”

You remember them. Jake is the redhead you saw at the bar last week, and Soobin is the third male who completed the friend group last summer. There were three other girls, though you haven’t heard of them since you moved to the city.

“Nice,” you let out, offering him a small smile.

The awkwardness expands tenfold after that, and you choose to order the cheapest meal on the menu. It’s pasta, and you figure you can never go wrong with pasta. After you’ve chosen, you still pretend you’re looking though, trying to escape having to face the heavy silence.

A waitress saves you from it by stopping by the table, asking if you want anything to drink. Sam, with his easy smile and nonchalant attitude, immediately attracts her gaze.

“I’ll have a Guinness,” he says. “And the lady will just have water.”

You freeze. You freeze with your eyes shooting at his pretty features. He looks back at you once the waitress nods, scribbling the order on her pad even though you’d assume it’s something easy to remember.

“What do you mean I’ll only have water?” you say.

Sam laughs. He laughs, as if his choosing for you isn’t paternalistic and so out of date. “I’m sure you wouldn’t drink a beer,” he answers, and it’s almost condescending. 

You make an effort of looking around the restaurant, pointedly stopping at a table near you, where the couple is sharing a bottle of wine. “I’m sure we could order wine?” you let out questioningly.

“I don’t like wine,” Sam replies, matter-of-factly.

You widen your gaze, tilting your head to the side. “And that means I can’t order any?”

“Damn, why are you so pressed about this?” 

Because this is not Sam. Or if it is, you do not recognize him. He’d charmed you last summer, whisked you off your feet and made you believe in love at first sight. It seems you were blinded, and it’s really hard to find any charm in the man sitting in front of you.

“Never mind,” you say, choosing peace over war.

But in that instant you already make the decision that you will never see him again. You’ll stay for dinner, though, if only because you don’t want to have spent twenty dollars on an Uber for nothing.

When the server comes back with the beer and to take your order, you realize maybe you should have left. Indeed, Sam orders for you again – a salad this time around – while he orders a steak for himself. You have to do everything in yourself not to cringe as he does so, and you keep an empty, plastic smile on your lips as he starts speaking to you about what he’s been up to since last summer.

And he speaks and speaks. That’s something you recognize in him – the way he can speak so much without you having to say anything. It’s like he’s doing a monologue – back then, you’d loved listening to his voice, if only because you liked the musicality of it. Right now, it’s grating on your nerves, and you keep diverting your eyes to the window, hoping there’s some salvation for you on the other side.

Obviously there isn’t any, and if Sam realizes your disinterest, he doesn’t let it show.

You think he’s on his month of December when the food finally arrives, and you’d thank God if you were religious for the respite in Sam’s spiel. Indeed, the silence is most welcomed, and you eat your salad, trying not to think about the pasta you wanted to order.

At least it’s a decent salad, but you’ll know you’ll have to eat something else when you get home.

“And the funniest part,” Sam is saying when you tune back into the conversation, “is that the girl wasn’t even pretty!”

You widen your gaze. “Oh!” is all you’re able to say. 

You think you see the couple at the table next to yours sliding their gazes to you, and the girl leans in closer to her partner, saying something. You can only assume that she’s laughing at your expense, and you get it.

You would too, if you were seated next to someone having the worst date of their life.

And it’s strange. So fucking strange, because once you would have given everything to be right here, with Sam Hwang. Now you feel like he’s a stranger, like he didn’t kiss you at the end of the night on that first party as if he’d been waiting for you his whole life.

“But her friend was,” Sam adds, and his fork makes a grating sound as he moves it on his plate. “Sorry,” he mindlessly apologizes. 

“No worries,” you let out, with no ounce of emotion in your tone.

Indeed, your social battery ran out while he was on October, and you think now he’s almost caught up to the present. Not that you care – you know you’ll never want to hear about Sam Hwang again as soon as you’re out of this restaurant.

“And you?” he asks, surprising you.

Surprising everyone in the restaurant, you reckon.

“Me?” you say.

“What’s new?”

You let out a small laugh. You can’t help it – it bubbles out of your mouth by itself, and you think it almost sounds a little crazed.

“Nothing much,” you answer. “My classes have been chill, can’t wait to be in med school, and I am starting to have a headache.”

Sam frowns, lips slightly curling in disdain. “Am I boring you?”

You blink once, twice, plastering a fake smile on your lips. “Of course not! I’m happy to know everything that’s happened in your life since you left me alone on the docks last summer.”

You say that at the exact same time the waitress stops next to the table. She gasps, or at least you think she does, and then she clears her throat.

“Would you guys like some dessert?” she asks as she eyes the empty plates in front of you.

“No thank you,” you quickly say before Sam could once more decide for you. “We’ll take the bill.”

He’s shocked. You see it the moment your eyes meet his again. You hope he sees all the ire in your gaze, all the hatred for what he did months ago and for this revelation that he isn’t shit anyway.

“I wanted dessert,” he says once the server is out of sight.

“Well, you can go home and get yourself some,” you drawl. “I’m tired of this.”

“Excuse me?” Sam lets out. “I’m stooping so low for you, and you’re just tired?”

“Seriously?” You scoff, shaking your head. “I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking last summer but you are an asshole, Sam Hwang.”

“And you’re so much better?” he says, laughing bitterly. “You’ve been looking outside this whole time as if you’d rather be anywhere but here. You’re the one that was begging me to hang out.”

You snort. “Oh, did I now?” you say. “I think I remember you asking for a date.”

“Whatever,” he grumbles. “I’m done here.”

You watch him get up, not surprised in the slightest as he throws your scarf at you, and then you watch him leave. He knocks his chair down when he grabs his coat from the back of it, and every pair of eyes in the restaurant turns towards you at the commotion. You just remain seated, trying to not explode, lips stretched into a thin line.

When Sam is out of the restaurant, the girl at the table next to yours leans closer to you. “I was about to tell him to fuck off for you, girl,” she says, and it makes you laugh.

“Man, to think I once had feelings for that douche?” you reply.

She chuckles. “He’s just red flags, run while you still can.”

You look at his chair on the floor, wincing. “Highly doubt he’ll ever approach me again.”

“And I say good riddance.”

You laugh along with her and her partner, and then you get up to right the chair, if only to busy yourself. Because your hands are trembling – you’re not good with public scenes like the one that just unfolded, no matter how friendly the people around you are. So you’re relieved when the waitress comes back, though the price on the bill seems to be laughing at you.

You still pay, cringing at the hole it’ll make in your budget, and then you wish a good evening to the girl and her partner, before heading towards the door, putting your coat on on the way. You stay in the lobby as you order your Uber, and you go through the Instagram stories as you wait.

Jungkook’s story is fourth, and you wince as you notice he posted it less than a minute ago. It’s nothing much though, just a picture of a table filled with beers, and you’re about to skip when something catches your eyes.

It is indeed a table filled with beers. A very familiar table, and you think you’ll murder Jungkook.

You slide in his dms as you slowly feel anger rising in you.

[08:57 pm] You: when were u going to tell me ure hosting smthg at the apt tonight?

Jungkook doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, you don’t even know if he’ll see, and all you can think is that you need to go home and go fast, just to make sure no one breaks anything. 

It’s not that you’re against having get-togethers at your apartment. As a matter of fact, you’re hosting something with your friends tomorrow, though you’d planned to tell Jungkook tomorrow morning.

Maybe this is payback for not telling him before. For not apologizing, for pretending that he’s just a stranger even though two weeks ago you were moaning under him. 

You push the thoughts away, but they’re like a door you were supposed to pull – they remain unmoving, taking up the whole scene of your mind. They haunt and taunt you all the way home, and you reckon it’s better than to think about Sam Hwang, about the shit-show of the date you just had.

So you cling to the anger rising in you, to the regrets and to the disappointment. Maybe because Jungkook is part of your present, and not your past. Maybe because no matter how much you avoid each other, your paths will always cross. 

The Uber drops you right outside the door of your building, and you thank the driver before stepping out into the cold. The rain has relented now, but it’s already started to turn to ice, so you carefully maneuver to the bottom of the stairs leading to your apartment, doing your best not to fall. You’re successful – not like a similar, freezing rain day, and you climb the stairs to the door properly.

You’re not surprised to find the door unlocked. 

But you’re definitely surprised when you open the door to the sight of five grown men sitting in your living room, with two pretty girls hanging with them. Though music is playing loud enough to burst your eardrums, everyone’s gaze turns to you, and you stand in the open door with a slightly frightened look on your features.

“Peach!” Jungkook bellows.

If he realizes he’s called you by that pet name in front of everyone he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he jumps to his feet, heading to where you’re standing.

“It’s freezing,” he comments as he stops next to you, pushing the door close. 

You immediately smell the alcohol on him, and you cock an eyebrow.

“You’re drunk,” you state.

He flicks your nose. “Astute.”

You don’t know how he manages to use vocabulary like that when he’s drunk. What you do know is that everyone is still staring at you, as if they’re watching the scene unfolding in a movie theatre.

“You didn’t tell me you were hosting something,” you hiss through your teeth, turning away from everyone to focus on Jungkook who’s leaning against the door now.

“Oh, peach,” he lets out. “Sorry. I thought we weren’t on speaking terms.”

Bewildered, you watch as he flashes you one of his iconic grins, the one that makes him look like a bunny, and then he heads back to where he was sprawled on the floor. Right next to one of the girls.

The other girl you know, and she’s currently leaning against her boyfriend. She offers you a bright smile when your gazes meet, waving hi.

“Hey,” you reply as you take off your boots and coat. You put the latter in the closet, before turning towards the living room again. 

The group seems to have moved on to something else, and you watch as Jungkook laughs, eyes crinkling with happiness. You don’t think you’re ready for what it does to your lungs – it sucks the breath right out of them, and you quickly leave to head to your room.

You pitstop by the kitchen first, trying to see if there’s anything to eat in the fridge. You fall on some leftover noodles that are undoubtedly Jungkook’s. You snatch them from where they are, thinking it’s a good revenge for him hosting people over without telling you. They’re almost done reheating when Sera walks into the kitchen, and she beams once more at the sight of you.

“Y/n!” she says. “Haven’t seen you in a long time.”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, since Tae left, you guys don’t usually come over.”

And it’s true. Except for Jimin, you haven’t seen the rest of Taehyung’s friend group since he left at the beginning of January. 

“It was Jimin’s idea,” she says as she heads to the fridge. She fishes a lemonade from the top shelf, before carefully closing the door again. “We facetimed Tae earlier.”

You nod. “Awesome. How is he?”

“You guys don’t speak?” she asks, and she genuinely sounds concerned.

You shrug your shoulders because you do speak. But ever since what happened with Jungkook, you’ve found it hard to truly speak to Taehyung, to pretend that you didn’t fuck his best friend, so you’ve been trying to avoid him as much as possible. 

Though it might be slightly suspicious, Taehyung hasn’t caught up to it yet.

“We do,” you say, chuckling. “Just not that often.”

She hums. “Oh well. Do you want to join us?” she asks, motioning over her shoulder. “JK said you make for a good Kim substitute.”

You snort, unsure of what you just heard. “What?”

She smiles secretively. “You know what I mean.”

Your gaze widens, and the microwave beeps, startling you. You pull your noodles out of it, wincing at how warm the bowl is. You drop it on the counter, before turning towards Sera again. “As a matter of fact, I actually have no clue what you mean.”

She bursts out laughing, that clear crystalline laugh you have no doubt ensnared Jimin when they met years ago.

“Jungkook just said that you guys hung out during the power outage and that you were chill.”

You wonder if you’ll have to murder him. You reckon you might, and your heart squeezes in your chest as you hope no one actually understood what he meant by that.

“He’s right,” Sera adds. “Each time you’ve hung out with us I’ve always found you fun.”

“Oh,” you let out, and you try to smile, try to act as if you didn’t turn entirely white at her words. 

“So come eat with us!”

And then she’s waltzing out of the kitchen, and you wonder if you should just jump out of the window. Avoiding Jungkook seems like the only viable option, especially when you step out of the kitchen, noodles in hand, to the sight of him with his head in the lap of the other girl. She’s running her hands through his hair while he plays on the Switch, and your heart squeezes uncomfortably.

Unfortunately, Jungkook catches sight of you, and he awkwardly sits up.

“Come here!” he tells you, and everyone’s head once again turns to you. “Wait, are those my noodles?”

You glance down at the bowl in your hands. “Maybe.”

“Stop stealing my food,” he complains, and he gets up, handing his controller to the girl. 

You’re keenly aware of the way her gaze slightly narrows on you as Jungkook makes his way to you. He makes to grab the bowl from your hands, and you turn away from him.

“Nu-uh,” you say. “They’re mine now.”

Jungkook groans. “No.”

And then he wraps an arm around your waist, skillfully stealing the bowl from your hands and raising it over your head. He lets out a victorious cry, and his arm tightens around your waist when you try to reach up.

“If you like my food so bad, just ask me to cook some for you,” Jungkook says, looking down at you.

He’s close. Dangerously close, especially under the eyes of his friends. Of that girl he was all cuddled up with just a few seconds ago.

“What are you doing?” you say through your teeth.

He dumbly smiles, before winking at you. “Making sure you don’t eat the noodles I know I’ll need tomorrow morning for the hangover.”

“Just don’t drink too much.”

His eyes trail to the coffee table. “I think it’s a little too late for that.”

And you know it is. He smells like it, like he’s had too many beers. You wonder how he can look sober even though he drank so much – if you were him, you’d be making a fool out of yourself by now.

“Please, Jungkook,” you say after a few seconds of tense silence, of your eyes getting lost in the enormity of his gaze.

He frowns, and his arm lowers from where he’s holding the noodles up. “What’s wrong?”

You gulp. “I just had a shit date, and I’m still hungry. I just want to eat something.”

He takes a step away from you, handing you the bowl as his frown deepens. He cocks his head to the side, questioningly, and then folds his arms on his chest.

You do your best not to avert your gaze to the muscles on his arms, instead letting your eyes fall to the bowl of noodles.

“Who did you go on a date with?” he asks.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Please tell me it’s not the guy from last week.”

You shut your eyes, sighing deeply. “Jungkook, it’s none of your business.”

“He’s an asshole,” he lets out, a little louder than necessary. “Why would you go out with him?”

You grit your teeth, before meeting Jungkook’s gaze again. “Because we have history. But I promise you that after the shit date we just had, I’ll never see him again. Happy?”

He looks anything but happy, yet he still says, “Yeah.”

“Now, can I go eat in my room while you guys do whatever it is that you’ve been doing?”

You make the mistake of looking at the group in the living room, and you hate that they all quickly look away, pretending that they weren’t watching.

“Why don’t you stay with us?” Jungkook suggests. “To cheer you up.”

You settle your gaze back on him, and he really looks like he wants to cheer you up. He’s pouting slightly, a small crease between his brows as he looks at you intently. There’s a light in his eyes that you don’t want to interpret, not when you hear the echoes of him telling you that you would just pretend nothing ever happened.

Are you weak for being unable to tell him no? Maybe. But you’ll have plenty of time for regrets later.

“Okay,” you let out. “But you should chill on the alcohol, you reek of it.”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Here’s to trying to be nice to you, huh?”

You chuckle, mimicking his expression. “Poor you.”

“You steal my food and then sass me?” he says, tongue pushing on the inside of his cheek. It attracts your gaze to his mouth, and your heart once again squeezes, though this time it doesn’t hurt.

No, this time it makes blush spread on your cheeks, and you feel like you’re starting to burn under his gaze.

“You deserve it,” you declare, and then you’re walking around him to head to the living room. 

He jogs to catch up to you, and once more grabs the bowl from your hands. It almost falls to the floor, but he effortlessly saves the noodles, and then motions with his elbow to the coffee table.

“Jae, clear the table please,” Jungkook says.

The guy – Jaehyun, you think? – obeys, though he grumbles the whole time. The unknown girl ends up helping him, and a few seconds later you’re seated in front of the coffee table, with Jungkook next to you. He sits so close you feel his thigh against yours, though he leans back into the couch, attention shifting to the TV, where Jimin and Eunwoo are playing a riveting game of Smash.

Everyone seems to forget that you’re there, and so you eat the noodles, trying your best not to think about Jungkook next to you. About the way you could easily cuddle in his side with a slight shift towards him…

Treacherous little thoughts. You don’t let them live in your head for longer than a few seconds, perhaps because the spice from the noodles overtakes everything. You wince, glancing at Jungkook, who catches your gaze, light dancing behind his pupils.

“You okay?” he asks as your cheeks burn.

“I forgot how spicy you like your food.”

He grins as you fan yourself. “You’ll get used to it. We just have to build up your tolerance.”

Then he does something incredibly stupid. You think his friends will notice, but they all erupt in cheers as they watch the TV, and Jimin slams Eunwoo’s character off the platform.

Jungkook’s large hand lands on your upper thigh. You’d say it’s possessive if you could produce any thoughts, but your brain zeroes in on the spot where he touches you, and you look down. He seems to realize it at the same time as you, and he quickly moves his hand away, frowning slightly.

He’s cute like this. Lips jutting out in a pout, a crease between his brows, confusion swirling in his gaze. Like he didn’t mean to touch you like that, the act done out of instinct. 

We just pretend nothing happened, no?

His words clang through your mind, and you turn away from him. Eyes falling on the noodles, and you take a shuddering breath in. Your memories provide you with images of you and Jungkook, alone in this living room. Of an attraction that was inevitable, yet now it tastes bitter. 

You’d like to be angry with him. For being so casual about everything, for wanting this over whatever secretive relationship you could have shared with him before Taehyung comes back. Maybe you’re stupid for wanting anything – the longer it would last, the more it would hurt. But as you force yourself to eat the food he cooked, you think the spice on your tongue isn’t really what’s hurting.

No, it’s your heart in your chest. It beats achingly, even more so as Jungkook ends up moving away from you, as if realizing through his drunken haze that he shouldn’t sit so close to you. That even if you tried to be friends, just friends, he’s already fucked you like there was no tomorrow. And during the power outage, it truly felt like there wasn’t any. Like you could just stay in that bubble outside of time.

When Jungkook ends up lying back with his head in that girl’s lap – Lisa, you now know – you pretend like you don’t wish it was you, running your fingers through his hair. You pretend like he’s not there, yet you see him in the periphery of your vision. You hear his laugh, know he smiles, and you wonder, is he just pretending?

Or is he attracted to that girl? You wouldn’t blame him. She matches his doe eyes, pretty features always hinting at a smile. She’s attractive, and you quickly understand that she is Sera’s best friend. Or at least it seems so, because she’s comfortable with the boys, and even more so with Jungkook.

You wouldn’t be surprised if they have history. Or if Jungkook is planning to get with her – hell, if you were a guy, you reckon she’d be the type of girl you’d want to get with.

Yet it hurts. It burns, and you find it hard to focus on the television. Even more so to participate in the conversation, and if someone notices, no one says anything. Perhaps because these are not your friends – no matter how friendly they might get, you’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to them.

You’ll always be Taehyung’s little sister to Jungkook.

“Hey, do you want something to drink?” Jaehyun says, shaking you out of your thoughts. 

You’re done eating by now, and you just turn to look at him, a startled look on your features. He chuckles at the sight, and you feel your cheeks burning.

“No, all good,” you tell him.

“Careful,” Jungkook says from behind you. “Tae’ll kill you if you speak to her.”

Now, Jungkook’s speech is definitely slurred. He’s drunk – you were aware of it before, but you hadn’t realized just how much. Indeed, when you turn to look at him, you know the bitter expression on his features is one he usually hides behind a mask. 

Just like that you know that he indeed does care, in the weird, twisted way that Jeon Jungkook can care. It reassures you somehow, but also breaks your heart. 

He was there, during the power outage. Did he, too, use it as a way to escape reality? Is he, too, regretting having to go back to normal? 

You like to tell yourself that he does.

“Bruh,” Jaehyun lets out, and Jungkook quickly composes his features, offering a bland smile to his friend.

The others just keep speaking about whatever it is that they’re speaking of now, but you can tell Jungkook is upset. You don’t think it’s jealousy because of Jaehyun – he’s haunted, just like you. 

He stays upset for a while. Drinking in silence, sitting up when Lisa says something to him and him only. She looks disappointed, and her eyes dart to you for a millisecond before she looks away. If she wants to blame you for Jungkook not wanting to cuddle with her anymore, then so be it.

Because you like that she’s not running her fingers through his hair anymore. Like that he sits between the two of you, and you imagine he’s just a little closer to you than he is to her. You’d want him to be – it’s a dangerous thought, much like all of your thoughts when it comes to Jeon Jungkook.

When Eunwoo suggests doing shots, Jungkook plasters a smile on his lips. You see it for the mask that it is, yet you don’t mention it. You long to reach between you and him, to smooth the lines on his brow away, but you don’t do anything. You accept the shot that’s handed to you, and a few minutes later, you let it burn down your throat.

After that, you decide to grab something to drink, only so that Jungkook won’t have to feel alone. Though you highly doubt he’ll realize the silent support that you offer him. 

While you’re still in the kitchen, Lisa walks in, a pretty smile lighting up her equally pretty features. You freeze by the fridge, and she moves closer to you, casually saying, “Hey, how are you?”

You offer her a tight-lipped smile. “I’m okay. You… want anything to drink?”

She looks down at the lemonade you’ve gotten for yourself, nodding once. You hand it to her, and it takes her a few seconds before she grabs it, awkwardness lingering in the air. You take another one for yourself, and then you face her again, hoping she’ll be gone.

She hasn’t moved an inch. As a matter of fact, she’s looking at you pensively, nose slightly scrunched.

“You’re Taehyung’s sister?”

The question takes you aback. You widen your gaze, struck like lightning just hit, and your mouth falls open. You think you must look stupid, so you clear your throat, trying to escape the awkwardness.

“I am,” you reply. “You are?”

“Lisa! Sera’s friend,” she supplies, and she offers you a nice smile. “Something happened between you and Jungkook?”

Straight to the point, then. You’d expected her to circle around the pot, never really fully digging in, but she’s straightforward. You can only admire her for it, even though your heart starts hammering in your chest.

“What do you mean?”

She purses her lips, before chuckling. “Sorry, you probably think I’m crazy.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just remain silent, trying to figure out how to escape the situation. She notices your unease, and she winces.

“Yeah, sorry, I definitely made things awkward,” she says. “It’s just…”

“Peaaaach,” Jungkook yells from the door to the kitchen, and both you and Lisa startle. You meet his gaze over her shoulder, and he frowns, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you guys doing?”

Lisa turns towards him. “Just talking.”

Jungkook cocks an eyebrow. “Well then, why don’t you come just talk with everyone else?”

You stifle a laugh, right as Lisa glances at you over her shoulder. You offer her a tight-lipped smile, and then she shrugs, before walking away.

Jungkook moves out of the way to let her pass, and then he walks in, heading towards where you’re still standing next to the fridge.

“I’m…” he trails off, and he stumbles a little when he stops next to you. “I’m fucking drunk.”

You hear it in his speech. “You want water?”

“Water?” He narrows his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “No, I want beer.”

“Jungkook,” you scold. “You don’t look like you should be drinking more.”

He snorts, and steps closer to you, towering over you. You tilt your head back, though you don’t budge from where you’re standing, effectively blocking the fridge’s door. 

“Move,” he tells you.

“Drink water first.”

He lands a gentle hand on your waist, pulling you flush against him. The sudden motion makes you shriek, and you push on his chest. 

“Let me get a beer,” he tells you. He drops his head next to your ear, and his warm breath tickles the side of your face. “Before I do something we’ll both regret.”

“Listen,” you whisper, and you gulp as his lips ghost on the shell of your ear. “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Yet when he does it again, your eyes flutter close, and you angle your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

“It’s hard to pretend when you look so damn good,” he murmurs. “Always.”

“Jungkook…”

He shakes out of it, taking a step away from you. The sudden absence of contact feels like a cold shower, and you gulp again, this time to swallow the lump that was threatening to form in your throat.

“Sorry,” he apologizes. “Wow. You’re right. I need water.”

You watch him as he moves to the cupboard, grabbing a glass for himself. He fills it at the sink, and he drinks it all in one go, as if that simple gesture will be enough to sober him up. You highly doubt so, but you’re relieved as he pours himself another glass, this time leaning against the counter to drink it.

“What was that?” you ask him.

He sighs heavily, pulling at his piercings. “I don’t know.”

“You can’t do that,” you tell him. “Especially not when there are people around.”

That second sentence is uttered in a low secretive tone, but evidently he still hears. He shrugs, tongue pushing against his cheek.

“Sorry,” he repeats. 

He does look apologetic, if not troubled. Like maybe he lost control of himself for a few seconds, and you see it for what it is – you left your mark on Jeon Jungkook. Because there was desire, in his voice, as he held you close to him. Want, in his half-lidded eyes, like you could just step back into that outer world the power outage consisted of. 

But you can’t, and as the sober one, you realize you’ll have to be the one to maintain a safe boundary. No matter how much you hate it.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, and you clear your throat as you open your can. “You just caught me off-guard.”

He smirks lazily. “Liked it?”

The conversation is taking so many 180-degree turns that you feel dizzy, and you shut your eyes, before taking a long swig of the lemonade. It fizzles in your throat, and though it burns you force yourself to drink and swallow.

You only open your eyes to meet Jungkook’s gaze again when half of the can is gone. And you glance towards the door, knowing you’re betraying yourself when you say, “So what if I did?”

“Pretend, peach,” Jungkook says, and it’s almost condescending. “What would your brother say?”

You hate the reminder of Taehyung, but it does the trick. It douses you, and you escape Jungkook’s gaze by focusing on the tiles on the floor.

What would Taehyung say indeed. You wonder if he’d jump into a plane and come back right away. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, and some part of you believes it might be the only way to keep Jeon Jungkook away from you for the time being. Because without a chaperone around, it’s only bound to happen again.

Especially when he lets his mask of unbothered coolness go. Like he did just a second ago, making your bodily temperature spike. It’s yet to come down, and you take another drink of the lemonade, hoping that it will cool yourself.

“He’d probably say that he’d kill you, right?” you say, reminiscing about what he said to Jaehyun earlier. 

“Oh,” Jungkook lets out, and he chuckles. “Definitely. As a matter of fact, I think I’m living on borrowed time now.”

You purse your lips. “So let’s pretend, right? Safer that way.”

He nods. “I really am sorry for that,” he says. “I don’t know where it came from.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure him once more. “Just don’t ever do it again.”

“Ever?”

The question is accompanied by a pout, and you hate the way it makes your gut twist. Like butterflies catching flight, treacherous bugs to make you sick to your stomach.

“Stop,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Why are you such a shameless flirt?”

He’s grinning, yet he doesn’t say anything, only shrugging his shoulders and taking a sip of his water.

“What’s up?” Jimin says as he walks into the kitchen. He eyes you and Jungkook, and the safe distance between the two of you, before heading closer. “Is this like a lame roommate-only party the others can’t join?” he jokes, and you step aside to let him access the fridge.

“No,” you answer at the same time as Jungkook.

Jimin snorts. “What’s up with you two?”

“Nothing,” you quickly say, though your cheeks burn.

“Right.” He clearly doesn’t buy it, and he says, “Peach?”

You gulp. “Don’t ask me, he started calling me that last semester because of Mario Kart.”

“She always chooses Princess Peach!” Jungkook quickly adds, and you think perhaps you’re only digging the grave further.

“Last semester?” Jimin asks, and he’s got a knowing smile on his lips. He’s toying with you two, and he’s enjoying every second of it.

“Yeah.”

Your gaze slides to Jungkook as if he has any support to offer, but you think it’s too late. Strangely, Jimin retreats, shrugging his shoulders.

“Whatever,” he lets out. “Why are you drinking water?”

Jungkook motions to you. “She suggested it. ‘Cause I’m pretty drunk.”

Jimin cocks an eyebrow, sending you a disbelieved look. “He’s been drunker than this, he can handle himself.”

“Why are you trying to get so plastered?” you ask, unable to help yourself.

Jimin purses his lips. “Why not?”

Why not indeed. It seems Jungkook only needed that encouragement to return to drinking, and you watch in horrified awe as he drinks and drinks, downing shots with his friends as soon as you return to the living room. 

You’re not surprised he’s struggling to stand on his feet by the time his friends leave. Jimin and Sera linger for longer, Jimin offering you an apology when he realizes the monster he unleashed. 

“I told you,” you say, sighing. “Now I’ll sleep to the sounds of him throwing up.”

Jungkook hiccups, raising a finger. “I’ll have you know.” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he sways. “I don’t throw up.”

“Yeah yeah, Jungkook,” Sera answers, and you stifle a laugh as he glares at her.

“Let’s just get you in bed before we leave,” Jimin says.

“And tell Lisa to stop looking at me like that,” Jungkook tells Sera, speech so slurred you’re not quite sure what he said.

It seems his friends also aren’t sure, because Sera says, “What?”

Jungkook looks at you, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“You’re fucked up,” Jimin says, and he starts laughing.

He’s not faring all that better, and he sways on his feet as he clasps Jungkook’s shoulder. Jungkook loses his balance, but he luckily just falls against the wall, slowly tilting to the side.

“Oh shit.”

All you can do is look at him as he eventually collapses, though he’s laughing the whole time. Jimin follows soon after, and Sera and you just look at them, eyes wide.

“You guys always drink so much?” you ask, directing the question to Sera.

“They do,” she replies, pointing to them. “Believe it or not but Taehyung’s the one that usually gets them not to drink too much.”

You cock an eyebrow in disbelief. “Yeah yeah.”

“I swear!” she insists, laughing that easy laugh of hers. “He only got too drunk that one time last semester.”

“And he threw up in the car,” you reminisce, while the guys do God knows what on the floor. “Hardly see that as a good influence.”

“He’s not,” Jungkook says from the floor, and you look down to see him sprawled on his back, Jimin giggling next to him. “Your brother is an asshole.” He looks serious for a few seconds, and then he bursts out laughing. You just remain silent, and he’s the one to speak next. “Can you help me?”

He does grabby hand motions at you, and you scrunch up your nose as if in disgust. “You can crawl to your room yourself, JK.”

He forces himself to sit up, leaning against the wall, as Jimin does the same next to him. Though Sera folds and helps Jimin after he’s offered her puppy eyes even you wouldn’t have been able to resist either.

“I’ll crawl to your room if you don’t help,” Jungkook threatens.

“Alright, let’s see you try.” The challenge hangs in the air between the two of you, as Sera and Jimin watch the scene unfolding.

Jungkook turns his head in the direction of your room, but then resumes his attention on you. “Too far.”

“Then sleep on the floor.”

“Are you for real?” he asks, and he sounds exasperated.

You groan, rolling your eyes, though you finally step closer to him. “We should have asked your friends…” you trail off looking at Jimin. “Your sober friends to help bring you to your room before they left.”

“Peach, I much prefer if it’s you tucking me in,” Jungkook teases as your hands close around his.

His are clammy, warm, but you ignore it, instead pulling him up. It’s a struggle, Jungkook a dead weight, but soon enough you manage to help him stand. He wobbles on his feet, and you hold onto his arm, trying to steady him.

“I won’t tuck you in,” you say through gritted teeth when he’s finally standing on his own.

You’re about to slide your gaze towards Jimin and Sera when Jungkook cups your cheek, and you think the Earth has stopped revolving around the sound. It stops abruptly, and you’re propelled forward, in those big eyes looking down at you like you’re the only thing in the universe.

You want to hate him. Right now, you want to hate him so bad for telling you to pretend nothing ever happened. Because it’s too natural to lean into his palm, too natural to get lost in his eyes.

How many girls has he ensnared with that sparkly gaze? How many of them have fallen for the trap, only to be abandoned when he’s done playing?

“What are you doing?” you ask him.

He blinks once, slowly, and then turns his head towards Jimin and Sera. Jimin’s mouth is agape, and Sera looks like she’s about to burst out laughing, that knowing glint in her eyes so bright it almost puts Jungkook’s gaze to shame.

“Shit, you’re still here?” Jungkook lets out.

“Not anymore!” Jimin quickly replies, and he tugs Sera towards the door. “We’re leaving. You guys do… whatever it is that you’re doing. We didn’t see anything.”

You move away from Jungkook, and his hand hangs in the air between the two of you for a few seconds before it falls aimlessly at his side. You take a step towards Jimin, calling his name.

He looks at you when he has an arm in the sleeve of his coat, the other one yet to be put on. “Yeah?”

“It’s nothing,” you say, trying to put as much conviction in your tone as you possibly can. “He’s just drunk.”

“Oh.” Jimin laughs, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Sure. I won’t say shit to Taehyung. I like Jungkook’s head on his shoulders.”

You gulp, your throat feeling so dry you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d die. “Who said anything about Taehyung?”

“Isn’t that what you were going to say?” he enquires.

You shoot a look towards Jungkook, who looks like a kid who’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t do. He’s pouting, eyes angled to the floor, and his hands are hidden in his pockets, as if he doesn’t trust them to not touch you right now.

“No?” you let out once you turn back towards Jimin and Sera.

Both of them finally have their coats on, but you think it’s too late. It’s too late – no matter what he says, Jimin will tell Taehyung. He’s a busybody, through and through, and you just know Taehyung’s ought to know by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

You can only hope you’ll be able to weather the storm when it’ll hit.

“I was just going to say…” you start, not really knowing where to head. “Honestly, nothing more than that – he’s just drunk. If you want to tell Taehyung that Jungkook’s handsy when he’s drunk, I don’t think that’ll surprise him.”

Jimin throws you a no-bullshit look, as if he was there during the power outage. As if he saw the way Jungkook held you, and the way he fucked you like it was the end of the world. 

“To be fair, Jungkook is handsy all the time,” Sera cuts in. “Did you see how he was sprawled on Lisa earlier?”

You don’t know why she’s throwing you a lifeline. But you remain silent, not wanting to dig the grave deeper, and you just offer a nod and a tight-lipped smile to Jimin. He does look confused for a few seconds until he shakes his head as if trying to clear his thoughts.

“Whatever,” he eventually says. “I’m way too drunk for this shit anyway.”

And then he’s turning around, opening the door to step outside. Sera watches him go fondly, before turning towards you again. 

“Sorry about that,” she apologizes on behalf of her boyfriend. “He really is drunk.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassure her as you walk to the door. You hug her goodbye, before holding the door open for her. “I’ll see you guys around.”

“See you!” Jimin yells from the bottom of the stairs, and you wince hoping you won’t get a noise complaint. 

“Shut up,” Sera hisses through her teeth, and Jimin throws an apologetic look in your direction before his girlfriend grabs his arm, forcing him to follow her as she walks away.

You look at them for a few seconds before shutting the door behind you, and it takes you a moment to gather the courage to face Jungkook again. A moment of you looking at some chipped paint on the door, wondering how it is that the stars aligned to put you in such a compromising position with your brother’s best friend. 

How is it that he had to seduce you, only to walk away like nothing happened after? It makes your blood boil in your veins, and you turn around with ire in your gaze, directed at the man leaning against the wall.

He’s still staring at the floor, his features blank. You wonder what’s going on in that thick head of his. Is he regretting this? Is he realizing that no amount of pretending will ever be enough to cover the fact that you did the irreparable, together?

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you ask him, venom dripping from your voice.

He looks startled, big eyes going wide as saucers as he meets your gaze. “What?”

“Now Jimin’s going to be onto us!” You vaguely motion behind you, before folding your arms on your chest. “I know you’re drunk, but you’ve got to fucking control yourself.”

“Hey, fucking chill out, will you?”

You see red. You see blood red, like a bull and its red flag, and you cross the distance between you and him. He waits for you, lips spreading in a lazy smirk as he leans his head against the wall, only so that he can look down his nose at you. You stop right in front of him, finger pointed towards his features.

“Don’t tell me to fucking chill.”

“Or what?” He tilts his head to the side, the perfect picture of arrogance.

“Or I don’t know, Jungkook,” you drawl, shutting your eyes in annoyance. “Don’t you care that Taehyung might be onto us because of Jimin?”

He huffs a breath, and you open your eyes to glare at him. His tongue toys with his piercing, before pushing on the inside of his cheek. 

“He won’t be,” Jungkook affirms like it’s the truth to the universe. “Why would he? Because we’re hanging out? Nah, we did that even before he left.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Not like that.”

“Like what?” he pushes.

You sigh, fists clenched so hard they’re leaving moon-crescent indents in your palms. “Like we’re friends. You touching me. All that shit.”

“I thought you like when I’m touching you,” Jungkook says, voice dropping an octave.

You stare at him in disbelief, quite at the same time as your heart starts racing in your chest.

“Shut up.”

He raises his hand in defence. “Sorry. It’s hard to help myself when you’re looking at me like that, peach.”

You try to school your features into neutrality, but you don’t know if it works. Don’t know if he can tell that your blood is rushing to your cheeks, threatening to have the effects of his words show on your face.

“Like what?”

“Like you want me,” he murmurs, and a finger of his finds your clenched fist, tapping gently on it. He doesn’t stop there – his digit slowly moves up your arm, and all you can do is stand, frozen in place. “Like you’re mad I suggested pretending that nothing happened.”

You hate him. You really do. You don’t understand how he’s able to say this shit when he’s drunk, but then again, maybe he’s wanted to say it sober, but his inhibitions were keeping him in check. Now, nothing forms a barrier between his mind and his mouth, and the words come forth to taunt you, tease you.

To make your heart race in your chest as you look up at those big doe eyes.

“I’m not mad,” you insist, swatting his hand away. “I agree with the statement. He’s your friend, he’s my brother. We shouldn’t have fucked at all.”

He nods. “See? I knew you saw the wisdom of it.”

Now, it hurts. It almost hurts enough to cut through the blinding anger in your blood, though you cling to the anger like it’s a buoy. You cling to it like it’s the path to safety, and maybe it is. 

Maybe it is, because Jeon Jungkook is danger personified.

So, you roll your eyes, gently patting his chest. “Then stop. Fucking. Touching. Me,” you say, tapping on his chest with every word uttered.

He sucks on his piercing, and you think his gaze has gone darker. It’s clouded with lust, all directed at you. When he looks at you like that, you feel like the rest of the world goes out of focus, like all there is is him.

Which is quite frankly the reason why you need to stay away from him. To never let him approach you again, to never lower your guard with him again. For Taehyung, yes, but also for your heart that’s barely recovered from Sam Hwang.

It’s strange, to think that you started the evening with Sam, only to finish it so close to Jungkook. To finish with so little distance between you and Jeon Jungkook that you fear you might crash in his orbit once more. 

“You’re the one touching me right now, peach,” he says, voice so low it almost sounds like a growl. 

And you are. You’ve laid your hand flat on his chest, and you can feel the racing of his heart under your palm. You make to move your hand away, but he quickly puts his hand over yours, clammy fingers keeping you close.

“Let me go,” you breathe out.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

His sentence makes you insane. Makes the red spark to life again, and you quickly step away. It’s like you were in a trance – you blink once, twice, and Jungkook appears in all his drunk glory again. He looks at you carefully, the lust fading as he beholds the emotions on your face, the mask you’ve let slip. 

“Don’t ever tell me that again,” you warn him.

“Why?”

“Just don’t,” you insist, scoffing. “You can’t kiss me, I can’t kiss you, we-“

Jungkook interrupts you by grabbing your face and crashing his lips on yours. You’d expected it – you’re the mere comet, and he the star. Though you might have come from Kuiper’s belt, Jungkook has been pulling you in, and there’s no escaping his gravity.

So even though you shouldn’t, you kiss him back. You kiss him back, pushing him back towards the wall. He hits hard, and he huffs out a breath that you swallow as your tongue darts in his mouth. You taste the alcohol on his breath, but more than that you taste him – the inebriating taste of Jeon Jungkook makes your mind spin in no time, and you’re forced to take a step back.

To take a step back and look at his pink lips, now swollen from the kiss. His eyes remain closed, and his breathing is ragged, chest going up and down quickly, much like yours is, too.

“Don’t kiss me again,” you say.

And you walk away. You don’t look at him once before slamming the door to your room shut, hands shaking so hard you think you’ll break. The shaking threatens to take over your whole body, and you almost expect Jungkook to follow you. 

He doesn’t. He doesn’t, and the sound of his door softly shutting is like a flatline, haunting you terminally. Like there will be nothing more after that than the memories of his lips on yours, of his hands tracing the curves of your body.

Though it might be sad, though every inch of your body is craving for his touch, you need to be sane. You need to stop before you both get in too deep. Because, even though you could have him now, even though he’s just on the other side of the wall, the moment Taehyung is back, it would have to be over.

You don’t want to get involved with someone that you’re only bound to lose anyway.

You don’t sleep after that, sleep evading you in favour of your spiraling thoughts. You let them carry you like the tornado that they are – you’re in too deep already. 

What will be left of you when the tornado spits you out?

Prev | Chapter 6.5 | Next

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Ughhhhh they are annoying I love them. What did you guys think? Let me know <3

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[swarvey]

paper rings | harvey x f!reader

Harvey remembers when he thought you were the love of his life; you don't seem to recall a time like that at all. After inheriting your grandfather's farm, you finally get to move back to Stardew Valley. Little do you know a certain doctor has patiently been waiting for your return.

a/n: the start of a harvey fic i posted on ao3, thought i would share!

ch. 1 | ch. 2

paper rings masterlist

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chapter one: i bet you think about me -> “the love that you’re lookin’ for is the love that you had.”

Harvey hummed lightly to himself as he walked through Pierre's store, carefully eyeing the ingredients of each snack he put in his basket. Although he hated to admit it, he was finally beginning to feel his age; the walks that used to be so simple to him were starting to drag, and he found he needed a minimum of eight hours of sleep each night to wake up energized. He sighed lightly, longing for his college days when he easily walked across campus and would sometimes stay up all night studying for a final.

Still, as more and more time went on, his health was his top priority. His eyes lit up as he saw his favorite granola bars were back in stock.

"Harvey! I haven't seen you in a minute." Harvey turned to greet Caroline with a small smile. "You must be busy. With spring coming along, I'm sure all the kids will be heading over to your clinic with runny noses." She wasn't wrong. Whenever the weather got a bit warmer after the winter, Harvey was always greeted by the town's kids and teens, all reluctantly sent by their parents for a check-up. Most of the time, he simply sent them home with allergy medication.

"Of course, my favorite time of the year," he joked, shaking his head. "How have you been, Caroline? Have those vitamins I recommended you been doing you well?" He picked up a box of cereal from the shelf, pushing his glasses up and examining its label.

She shook her head in disbelief. "I couldn't believe it — I never knew those things could affect me so much! I've been feeling much more awake and energized thanks to you."

Harvey let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Ah, well, it's what I'm here for, isn't it?" He traded the cereal he had in hand with another one on the shelf, in awe at the amount of sugar in all of them. "You hear about anything new going on? I'm afraid I haven't been to the saloon in over a week now, so I haven't been very filled in."

Caroline pursed her lips as she thought. "Nothing too crazy going on in the Valley," she said after a moment. "Pierre's been preparing for the spring, Abigail's been practicing a ton with Sam and Seb, just the usual." Harvey nodded, humming in triumph as he finally found a box of cereal to his liking.

"Oh, and remember that girl who used to come by all the time? I heard her grandfather passed away, poor thing. He was a great man." What?  Harvey froze, smile dropping. "Now that I think about it, weren't the two of you good friends? She's taking over his farm this spring, you know."

Thud.

The box landed between the two as he remained silent, his face beginning to burn. 

"Harvey? Everything alright?"

"Sh-she is?" Harvey stuttered. When he realized how concerned Caroline looked, he cleared his throat, hastily grabbing the cereal off the floor and throwing it into his basket. "That's wonderful! I mean, not wonderful about her grandfather, but—" He shook his head. "I actually have something to tend to at the clinic, so I'll go check out now!" 

Pierre gave his wife a quizzical look as Harvey rushedly handed his items to him, ears turning a shade of bright red. Caroline shrugged, clueless as to what she had said to make the doctor so flustered. The two watched half-amused as he left the store with a quick "thank you," keeping his gaze on the floor. 

"He's always been a bit shy," Caroline reasoned. Pierre nodded, the couple returning to their tasks.

How? How was this happening? Harvey's thoughts raced as he made his way into his apartment, practically slamming the door shut as he sunk to the floor. Memories came rushing back to him as your name rang through his head, realizing it had been too long since the two of you had spoken. No wonder he didn't hear about your decision beforehand. Guilt began to eat at him as he thought of everything he had missed in your life, taking off his glasses to rub his face in stress. Would you even want to speak with him anymore?

Finally, after nearly half an hour of contemplation, Harvey scrambled up the courage to pick up his phone and give you a call. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest as the dial tone rang, half of him hoping you wouldn't pick up. At least then he could avoid the situation a little longer, right?

"Hello? Harvey?"

Crap.

-

"Hello? Are you there?" you repeated, raising a brow. "Harvey, did you butt dial me?"

"No, no! I'm here," your friend replied, a slight panic in his voice. "Uh, well . . . how have you been?"

You let out a huff of laughter. "Some things never change, do they, Harvs?" His old nickname slipped off your tongue with ease. You remember when you were kids together, running around playing tag — back then, you would chase him and call him Harvsy. "You're still just as charming as ever," you tease.

There's a beat of silence before he replies with an awkward laugh. "You know me better than anyone." He pauses. "So, I heard you're moving to Stardew Valley?"

"Ah, right, I am! Sorry, I never got the chance to tell you," you sighed. "It's been a while since we last talked, huh?" 

"I suppose it has," he agreed, and you note the twinge of sadness in his tone. 

It's not like you wanted to stop talking to him, not at all, but with all the complications going on in your life, it was hard to keep in touch with your old friend. You always saw Harvey as a kid whenever you visited your grandfather's farm, as his grandparents also lived there. The two of you grew even closer throughout your pre-teen and teen years, always sharing music and studying together. You even saw him from time to time during college — although he went to a bigger, more prestigious medical university, you were both in Zuzu City and got food with each other from time to time. After you graduated and ended up working at Joja Cola HQ, though, you began to see Harvey less and less. Both of you tried to call regularly, you really did, but when your life began to look too black and white, you gave up on nearly all your social connections, focusing entirely on your work and making it through each day. It didn't help that he was busy running his clinic, too. 

Things didn't get much better when your grandfather died. He passed away towards the end of your college years, leaving you an envelope you promised not to open until you felt, "crushed by the burden of modern life." You had actually spoken to Harvey over the phone about your grandpa's words, though both of you were equally confused at what he meant.

That is, until working for Joja became too unbearable.

Only then did you open the letter, more miserable than you had been in your life. Despite it all, your grandfather had left you the greatest gift he could have in order to reignite your spirit: his farm.

"Well," you started, snapping out of your short daze, "I'll be in town in three days, so why don't we catch up then?"

More silence.

Was he always this quiet? Or have you two just grown apart?

"Harvey," you sang, "you still there?"

"Yes!" he exclaimed. "Yes, of course, just give me a call when you're on your way, I can, uh, help you move in. If you need help, that is!" You laughed lightly; he was still the same dork you knew in the past.

"I would love some help, if you can spare the time," you said, smiling. "I'll see you soon, then?"

"Yes, I'll see you soon." You hung up, a smile lingering on your face. 

I wonder if he has a girlfriend, you wondered. He had never been the most outgoing, but surely he had to have met someone. You shrugged to yourself, continuing to pack some of your belongings into boxes.

Suddenly, going back to the Valley had become all the more exciting.

-

Harvey sank into his chair at the saloon, hand covering half his face as he began to question his life choices.

"Oh, come now, my friend," Elliott chided, taking a swig of his drink. "Where is your courage, your hope? You should be ecstatic that your love is returning to the town!" 

Shane grunted. "Yeah, right," he grumbled. "Odds are, she's already moved on."

Elliott frowned at him, but ignored him nonetheless. "Tell us what is on your mind, Harvey."

Harvey sighed. He had asked to sit between the two at the bar in hopes of gaining some clarity, but all he seemed to have achieved was embarrassment. While Elliott was overly enthusiastic about his "long lost love's return," Shane couldn't care less about the subject, bluntly stating his pessimistic thoughts. He felt as if there was an angel and a devil, literally, on either of his shoulders — Elliott was to his left, while Shane was to his right. 

"Shane may be right," Harvey admitted, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes. "What's the point of thinking about all this if she's already taken?" With that thought, he finished the remainder of his drink, trying to ignore the stinging in his chest.

The two men beside him were the only ones who knew about his feelings for you. Harvey confided in them from time to time, as they were closest to his age and they had known each other for quite some time. Although their personalities often clashed and seemed impossibly different, it was nice to talk to them. At least he and Elliott enjoyed it, anyway — Shane never outwardly showed his appreciation for them, except for the occasional half-smile at their jokes that they missed the majority of the time.

Elliott shook his head. "You mustn't give up before the battle has even begun," he stated, leaning closer to look Harvey in the eyes. "How long has it been since you first felt this way toward her?"

". . . Ah, you see," Harvey began quietly, his blush adding to the warmth of the alcohol he had drunk, "I've actually liked her for quite some time."

His friend hummed. "Since college, then?"

"A bit longer . . ."

"Oh, high school sweethearts? How romantic!" Shane rolled his eyes.

The doctor cleared his throat. "Actually, since we were about, let's see . . . ten? A little younger?"

Shane choked on his drink as Elliott's mouth fell open. 

"Fucking hell," Shane swore, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. "That's like, what, two decades?"

Harvey wished he could cover his face with a blanket and disappear. "It started off as a crush, of course, we were kids," he feebly defended. "Then it just never really faded." He jumped when he felt Elliott strongly grab his shoulder, a new fire lighting his eyes. 

"This, my friend, is fate," he claimed confidently. "I am sure now that you two were meant to be."

"Elliott, please—"

"Not another word!" He rose from his seat, dropping coins on the table and giving Gus a thumbs up. "Gus, I'd like to pay these gentlemen's tabs tonight." The bartender grinned, returning the gesture. "Now, Harvey, I advise you go home and rest for your lover's arrival—"

"Not so loud!" Harvey begged, frantically checking if anyone had heard.

"—as you must look your utmost best for her," Elliott finished. 

Shane groaned. "Listen, thanks for paying for the drinks, pal, but I think we're done here. You're killin' him." With a quick nod to Harvey and a scowl at Elliott, Shane shrugged his jacket on and made his way out.

"I expect to hear all about your reunion, Dr. Harvey," Elliott said, putting on his own coat and placing a hand on his shoulder once again. "Best of luck! Let fate guide you." A few people glanced over at his theatrics, and Harvey truly questioned why he had chosen to confide in him in the first place.

As his friend left, Gus wandered over to him, brow raised. "What was that all about?" he asked.

Harvey shook his head. "It's a long story," he sighed, pushing his glass toward the bartender. He ignored the fact that he had gotten five refills above his usual limit; this was a dire situation.

Every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was your smile. 

Miss me, Harvs?

He sighed.

"Another glass, please."

[local-lamppost]

Something I've Been Reminded Of

Spoilers for Ch 86

Kicking off season 2 of Spy x Family we have the long awaited date of Loid and Yor-which was just lovely-and in that we got this line from Loid:

Of course, this is just him drastically missing the actual cause of Yor's poor mood, but Agent Twilight believes that he has made Yor cross with him for asking for help running the household. This is a marriage of convenience after all, not an actual partnership.

While it's never made the forefront of a scene, at least not in an overtly plot heavy way, Loid is often shown doing the majority of the house work. He cooks, cleans, helps Anya study, cares for Bond, etc. He'll even make sure that dinner is ready for Yor when she comes home late. Not to say Yor doesn't do anything, she's often shown preparing drinks and will help clean up now and then, but the implication is that Loid does 90% of the chores along with raising Anya, caring for Bond, his work as a fake psychiatrist, his work as an actual spy, along with whatever day trips/misadventures the family gets up to.

But he will not ask for Yor's help, because this whole thing is a marriage of connivence; it's 'for the mission'.

Then we get chapter 86. Twilight is hurt from a gun fight with his brother-in-law, has just faced a representation of his worst traits in Winston, and gotten into a "fight" with Yor which he has no idea the cause of. Loid has officially been pushed to the limit and the moment he gets home-the moment he feels safe-the sight of Yor smiling through the threshold causes him to collapse and ask:

And Yor:

Which shocks Twilight. He is at his lowest point and is expecting for Yor to actually get upset with him, under the impression that she'll see his need for help as a burden.

Yor has always been eager to help Loid, but never wanted to overstep this unspoken boundary they have. She isn't his actual wife, not actually Anya's birth mother. She's there to keep up appearances, it's not her place to be a wife helping her husband. She will still hesitate around Anya for actions that are unavoidably motherly. It's not her place, Loid is handling it even if he's struggling.

Which is why Yor is glad to be asked for help.

How many characters both acknowledge Twilight needs help and actually offer help? Let alone with no ulterior motives. WISE is under the impression that everything they ask is within Twilight's capabilities and even Franky, the only person in his life who could be considered a friend, needs to maintain a certain distance as to not arouse suspicion for either of them.

Yor's position as mother for the Forger family has granted her both the closeness needed to see how ragged Loid's been run, but also be in a position to offer help that can be reciprocated. The only thing holding her back has been Loid not asking for assistance and her being to worried for her position in the family to ask.

And now that Loid has reached out, Yor will do all she can to ease his burdens. Even with Twilight resolving to be better, to be the perfect spy he's been slipping from, I don't think Yor's going to let him go back to bad habits. He needs help, he's asked for help, she's going to help.

Yor is going to aggressively care for Loid, and through shenanigins break down those barriers of his.