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mypoisonedvine · 4 years ago

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peaches & cream || soft!dark Jake Wyler x reader

for @stargazingfangirl18's 5k challenge! I used the prompt, "the town golden boy isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks."

word count: 3.6k

warnings: smut (noncon), stalking/obsession, some degradation/negging (but lots of praise during the actual smut), kinda yandere vibes?, touch of breeding kink at the end, definitely flirting with the boundary between soft!dark and regular dark but I like to think it’s a fine line

“Sorry, but that’s a seasonal flavor,” the girl at the counter explained in a snarky monotone.

“Well, yeah, but isn’t it still… the season?” you pressed; normally you weren’t the sort of person to argue with a cashier over a milkshake, but the look she was giving you made you feel like she was holding out on you— especially when the promotional poster for the very thing you were trying to order was just behind her head, and said the flavor was available for two more days.

“We’re out,” she answered firmly, but then her face suddenly shifted to a much more pleasant expression as you heard the chime of the front door opening behind you.

You felt his body hovering behind yours just as his hand laid on the counter beside you, caging you in. It was even more unsettling with the context that there was a whole line of people waiting behind you already.

“I’ll get your usual,” the girl promised to the man beside with a flirtatious smile as she disappeared to the back, returning almost instantly with a shake in her extended hand. “Peaches and cream milkshake— extra whipped cream, no cherry. Enjoy!”

Your eyes widened at the reading of your own order. “I thought you were out!” you protested, going completely ignored.

"If you were my girl, this sort of thing wouldn't need to happen."

You recoiled from Jake's voice in your ear, and he smiled in spite of your snarl, bringing the straw to his lips slowly. With a shudder you walked away, deciding it was probably better to forgo a milkshake anyways— especially if it was a chance to avoid everyone’s favorite senior, the football king who basically owned the whole town for no other reason than being good-looking, athletic, and allegedly “charming” or whatever.

Of course, he followed you, sitting across from you in a booth and silently shooing his posse of fellow teammates to go off and give you two some space. If only he would give you space.

“We can share,” he offered as he held the milkshake out towards you. “I know it’s your favorite… it’s mine too.”

“I’ve lost my appetite,” you explained quickly as you pulled a book out of your backpack, intent on ignoring him since you couldn’t physically force him to leave.

He shrugged and returned to sucking on the straw, watching you unwaveringly as you tried to read your book— staring at the page was going well, but you couldn’t seem to actually get any words down. Had you forgotten English as a written language or something?

“Could you leave?” you finally asked as you groaned and looked up from your book. “You’re distracting me.”

“I’m literally just sitting here,” he reminded you.

“And it’s distracting!”

He smirked proudly. “My presence tends to have that effect on people. Nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You rolled your eyes, burying your face back in your book. “You know, you may have everybody else fooled, but someday you’re gonna have to leave this pathetic little town and go into the real world where throwing a ball isn’t a career and nobody fawns over you just because you have the audacity to be attractive.”

He chuckled lightly. “Right, because you have those big city dreams of yours, but believe it or not some of us like this ‘pathetic’ little town.”

“Well, of course you would,” you snorted. “Your dad’s the mayor and your girlfriend’s the head cheerleader.”

“My ex-girlfriend,” he corrected, finally getting your attention enough to make you shut your book.

“What?” you blurted out.

“Yeah, she dumped me,” he explained plainly.

“Why would she do that?” you asked, making him look much too proud of himself again. “Finally snapped out of the brainwashing, huh?” you added, effectively killing his smug expression.

“I guess you could say that. She met some college guy from out of town… I think her parents liked me too much, she needed a bit more rebellion.”

“Well, my condolences to you,” you smiled, “and my congratulations to her.”

“I thought you hated her,” he scoffed.

“Well, now she and I have something in common: a complete lack of interest in you!”

“I mean, I wouldn’t go that far,” he smirked, “she still comes over every now and again to suck my cock.”

You choked on nothing, face getting warm at his crude language. He didn’t talk like that with anyone else; it was so cruel the way he kept everybody in town under his spell except you, the way he let you in on his real darkness with no one else to confide in or believe you.

It was so fundamentally lonely, being the one person who wasn’t in love with Jake Wyler. It was even worse being the one person Jake Wyler loved.

At least, that was the word he used multiple times in his semi-anonymous letters, his incessant calls and emails, his speeches outside your window. He’d actually cooled off lately, you wondered if maybe he had finally let go of this ‘the one thing I can’t have�� obsession and learned to appreciate his girlfriend (who, for all her personality flaws, was objectively gorgeous, and seemed to at least be nice to him if nobody else).

But now that she left him (which you were still trying to process, honestly), you were surprised he hadn’t already moved on to the next best wannabe model and/or reinstated his campaign to win you over.

Then again, the look in his eye kind of made you think you were about to witness the second one.

“You know, when she does come over, I can only ever finish because I’m thinking about you,” he revealed in a low voice. You grimaced and slid out of the booth, stuffing your book into your bag and barely managing to throw him a goodbye before you dashed out.

It wasn’t like you really thought you could get away from him— he had made it clear over and over that you couldn’t— but the idea of being crammed in that booth with him, surrounded throughout the diner by his adoring fans who somehow didn’t manage to overhear him when he said those awful things, made you feel nauseous.

What you should’ve considered was that, fans or not, those people were witnesses, and now that you were running out into the dark streets of the town and he was chasing after you, you didn’t have any. It was just you and him, and when you turned into an alleyway to try to get home faster, even the dim glow of the streetlights couldn’t see you anymore.

“Hey,” he stopped you with a tight grip on your arm, pulling you back into him.

“Let me go!” you whined, trying to tug yourself away but only ensuring that his hand would leave a bruise on your arm.

“I will when you just hear me out, okay?” he hissed, spinning you around to look up at him. "Why don't you just give me a chance? Don't you wanna be popular?"

"I don't want to be anything that requires being within ten yards of you!" you spat.

He seemed bewildered, but you knew he wasn’t actually that stupid. "Why?"

"Because you know why!"

He sighed, slumping his shoulders a little. "Are we still on that, really? I told you, you should take it as a compliment. You know how many girls would kill to catch me jerking off in their panties?"

"You're sick, Jake,” you sighed, “and you're really good at hiding it from everyone else but I know what you really are. You told me you needed help with algebra and I actually believed you, for months you were lying to me to get close so you could perv on me when you already had a girlfriend and two side chicks anyways— god, Jake, you're crazy!"

You yelped when he pinned you to the wall, blue eyes darker than ever. "I really, really hate that word."

Against the wall, your back straightened as you felt the tone shift completely for a moment before he was back to his jovial self again, giving you a somber but almost-genuine smile.

“The only kind of crazy I am is crazy about you,” he defended with a laugh, leaning in a little closer. “Why can’t you see that?”

As his eyes moved from your own to your lips, a renewed sense of fear shot through you. “Jake…” you mumbled, apparently your feeble attempt to ask him to stop.

“Just one kiss,” he bargained, “and then I’ll let you go. Okay? That’s all I need.”

“N-no,” you whimpered, turning your head away as he leaned in even further. “Stop.”

“Come on, it’s just a kiss, baby,” he cooed. “Then you can leave. Hey, you might actually like it. You know, I think that’s what you’re really scared about… and I get it! When I first realized I was in love with you, it was scary for me, too— I mean, I’m the most important guy in town and you’re just some bookworm, it’s sort of social suicide for me so I had a lot to worry about.”

There he went with his negging again, trying to bring you down to his level. Your brain knew that, it saw right through it, but your gut still sank with doubt.

“But I know now that love is nothing to be afraid of,” he concluded.

“No, Jake,” you whispered, feeling tears well in your eyes, “I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me if I don’t do what you want.”

“Well, that is something to be afraid of,” he replied with the coldest laugh you’d ever heard; you didn’t hear any agreement, but the lack of denial was deafening. “So just be my good girl and let me kiss you…”

You swallowed dryly, your eyes wide open and searching for anywhere to look but up at him.

He was so close now that his lips brushed against yours with his command: “say it.”

You stammered over your breath, not sure exactly what he was asking for, and you winced as you felt his grip tighten on your arms.

“Say, ‘kiss me’,” he clarified in a harsh whisper. “Say, ‘please’...”

“Please,” you repeated awkwardly, hearing it in your voice but so clearly not your own words, “kiss me.”

He let his mouth intertwine with yours and your eyes were still wide open as he let his own fall shut, moving his hands to clutch your face gently instead as you gave a weak effort to kiss him back.

Objectively, he was good at this. A lot of things were objectively true about Jake: as much as you forced yourself not to see it, he was handsome; as much as it didn’t really matter to you, a boycotter of all things sports, he was talented; and, as much as no one else realized it, he was completely deranged. For every word of kindness from him there was another of anger. For every love letter in your locker, there was a threat left scrawled on crumpled paper inside your bedroom, just so he could remind you that your parents would let him into the house if he asked and never question it.

Which was why it was extremely important that you did not enjoy this kiss. You needed to hate the way his fingers traced over the pulse in your neck, the way his tongue tickled yours, the way his teeth just barely grazed your lip until your knees went a little weak.

But wow, there was something primally satisfying about melting into his arms, feeling his strength support you like it was nothing when he held your waist and pulled you closer.

You could almost forget that it was him. But then he mumbled your name into the kiss, nearly moaned it in fact, and it pulled you back to reality. With a gasp, you pushed him away and blinked your eyes open, not even realizing you’d closed them; hating how quickly you’d started to give in to him.

“There, one kiss,” you mumbled, wiping your mouth with the back of your sleeve. “I’m gonna go home now—”

“You can’t be serious,” he laughed incredulously. “You’re gonna kiss me like that and tell me you don’t feel this, too? We’re so meant for each other— we even order the same milkshake!”

“That doesn’t matter!” you denied.

“I love you!”

“That doesn’t matter either!”

You turned to leave but he grabbed you again from behind, covering your mouth with his hand when you opened your mouth to scream. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that,” he hissed in your ear, “and don’t walk away from me.”

Fighting against his grip did nothing but exhaust you: he only needed one arm to hold you back as he dragged you deeper into the alley. Your legs swung wildly and landed a kick to his shin, and he plugged your nose while he was covering your mouth so you couldn’t breathe.

“Listen to me, you stuck up little bitch,” he growled. “I’m really sick of this ‘hard to get’ act. I know you want me. So shut up and let me show you what you’ve been missing out on, okay? You gonna be good?”

In that moment, you would’ve agreed to anything for a chance to fill your lungs with fresh air, and so you nodded, the back of your head rubbing against his chest.

“You gonna be nice and quiet so nobody catches you getting fucked like a whore in this alley?”

Another nod, more feverish than the last, ended with a sharp inhale as he let go of your nose. But he was still covering your mouth, his arm around you now feeling less like restraint and more like an embrace.

"I've wanted you for so long, you can't even imagine," he explained softly as he leaned down and kissed your neck, gripping your waist tighter. "You and this perfect body of yours. This smart little head that thinks too much…"

You swallowed dryly as his hand trailed lower.

"This pussy you've been hiding from me for much too long," he added darkly, roughly shoving his hand up your skirt.

You whined behind his hand but he didn’t seem to care; he pulled your skirt up and grinned at the sight of your panties— because he recognized them.

“I remember these,” he purred. “They look good on you, baby, but they looked better covered in my come.”

Your cheeks burned with shame— you already hated yourself for still wearing the pair he’d tampered with, but it was harmless after a few runs through the washer, right? You weren’t going to stop wearing your favorite panties just for him, that would mean he won, in a sense; or, that’s what you told yourself to justify not burning them.

“Don’t worry, they’re gonna be soaked by the time I’m done with you,” he purred, slipping two fingers between your legs and growling slightly. “Well, actually, you’ve already done a lot of the work for me.”

He pulled the fabric aside and explored your pussy instead, tightening his grip over your mouth as you made little muffled yelps. The rough pads of his fingers found and targeted your clit instantly, that megawatt smile pressed against your ear as he started to rub your bud harder.

“Mm, feels good, huh?” he taunted, moving even faster as your hips jolted unintentionally. He stopped only to bring the fingers to his lips, humming at the taste of you which he sucked off of them. “So sweet, babygirl— better than any peaches and cream milkshake, that’s for sure.”

The wet fingers trailed down your body again, finding your entrance that he suddenly pushed into; it was a little too much without any warning and it made your eyes shoot wide open, a squeak barely escaping your throat.

"Just as tight as I imagined, baby,” he sighed, “all those times I used your panties, or hooked up with somebody who almost looked like you from behind. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock, I know you want it so bad.”

He took his fingers out of you to reach back and open his belt with one hand, the sound of the buckle matched in upsettingness only by the sound of his jeans sliding down to his thighs.

You heard your own breath loud and heavy against his hand as you felt his hard cock press against your thigh, a drop of precum smearing on your skin. Your breathing halted suddenly, though, when he slid himself between your legs to rub his cock over your exposed and swollen pussy.

“Oh, babygirl, you really are too good to me,” he grinned, kissing your ear tenderly. “So fucking wet and ready for me, huh? You need it that bad? You’re gonna get it, baby, ‘m gonna give it to you so good…”

Bracing yourself as best you could, you felt the head of his cock push against your entrance before he slammed in all at once, making you hiss in pain.

“Oh god,” he groaned, “fuck, you’re so warm…”

Already he was fucking into you roughly, pumping faster and deeper, paying no mind to your choked sobs of pain from the wide stretch. Even when it stung it felt oddly good, and the underside of his cock seemed to slide perfectly over your g-spot with each movement until your eyes began to roll back in your head.

“So fucking good,” he moaned hoarsely as he braced you against the brick wall for leverage, reaching back down with his free hand to rub your clit again. He chuckled when your legs quivered, and he must have felt your walls tighten around him, too. “I wanna hear those pretty moans, baby, if I take my hand away are you gonna be good?” he asked darkly. You nodded, enjoying the brief feeling of freedom that came from not having his hand over your mouth anymore. But then again, it was humiliating that now he could hear your panting breaths, your desperate mewls that you failed to swallow down.

He made a sound that was almost like a laugh as he watched you squirm in his arms, one more way he had to lord this all over you, as if forcing you to take him in an alley wasn’t enough on its own.

His breath against your ear was hot and strained, each meeting of your hips to his accentuated with a little grunt from him. It didn’t help at all that his fingers were rubbing you just right, with so much skill that you wondered if he’d somehow figured out how you touched yourself when you needed to get off. Honestly, you wouldn’t put it past him to have spied on you before, even if you couldn’t figure out when or how.

The hand that used to cover your mouth slid up under your shirt and pulled your bra down, a large, rough hand groping each breast and pinching your nipples until you bit down on your lip to stay quiet. For all the mocking and teasing he’d done before, he was pretty direct now— like he was trying to make you come as fast as possible, overloading your body with sensation.

And did he have to be so fucking good at it?

“I know you’re close, babygirl,” he whispered in your ear, “just let go…”

“Jake, please,” you sobbed, too far gone to appreciate that no begging would make him stop now.

“Come for me,” he demanded roughly, fucking you even faster as he sucked a mark onto your neck, and finally it all came crashing down with a choked-out cry of his name and a gush of warmth dripping out around his length.

“Ohh fuck, there you go, fuck it feels good when you come for me,” he grunted, thrusting even faster. “You’re gonna milk my cock with that pretty pussy, babygirl— you’re gonna make me come…”

“J-Jake, not inside!” you interjected, getting his hand back over your mouth in return.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he soothed, “waited too long for this to pull out now. Feels too fucking good.”

Behind his hand, the difference between whines of hatred and moans of pleasure was irritatingly subtle.

“I love you,” he reminded you in a voice exhausted yet heavy with desire, “so fucking much…”

A few more erratic, brutal thrusts accompanied by heavy pants and he was gone; you could feel his cock pulsing with each rope of come that filled you, so deep that your head fell dejectedly with the realization you had no hope of washing it out now.

His hand fell from your mouth but he didn’t pull out for another few moments as he caught his breath, gently peppering your neck and cheek in slow kisses. “Baby,” he finally sighed, breaking the crushing silence, “you’re so fucking perfect. I knew you were made for me.”

I hate you, you wanted to cry out, but words escaped you as he hugged you tightly and pulled your panties back into place, soaking them with his come as it leaked out of you just like he’d promised. He stuffed his cock back into his jeans and helped you adjust your clothes back to looking almost presentable, finishing it off by turning you around and smiling at you with serene pride before kissing your forehead.

"You're gonna make such a beautiful prom queen," he cooed, “especially if you’ve already got a nice little bump showing…”

His hand rubbed beneath your belly button for emphasis, making you whimper and force your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks.

"Shh, don’t cry, baby,” he soothed, kissing your cheek softly. “Trust me, you're gonna love being my girl."

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #dark!jake wyler x reader #idek how to tag this nobody's looking for jake wyler fics lmao

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cockslutpadalecki · 4 years ago

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Really Hate Your Guts

Summary: After Y/N calls things off with Ransom, he doesn't take kindly to being told no.

Characters: Ransom Drysdale x Reader.

Words: 1332.

Warnings: a little dub-con, some degradation, bicep choking?, Ransom being an ass hole, much smut.

A/N: Sequel to Hate Your Guts. I absolutely never intended to write any more of this story, but a long lost comment on AO3 that I recently discovered made some plot bunnies burrow hard, and along with this GIF, this idea was swiftly born. All my love to @sweeterthanthis for being such an amazing cheerleader. Not beta'ed so all errors, spelling mistakes and general bullshit are entirely mine. While likes are gold, feedback are golden. Masterlists can be found in my pinned post. Subscribe to Patreon and get access to fics, just like this one, two weeks before Tumblr for as little as $3.

From the slumped position in the chair next to his grandfather, Ransom watches you clear up Harlan’s lunch tray. You can feel his stare boring into you as you stack the older man’s teacup on top of the empty plate dusted with a small scattering of breadcrumbs, and slot the delicate silver teaspoon next to the fancy, fine china. Occasionally you catch the younger man in your periphery— elbow propped up on the arm of the chair while his thumb cups his jaw, and forefinger rests against his cheek, icy cerulean eyes mentally undressing you from where he’s sitting.

You’ve been doing your best not to be alone with the playboy for the past four days, but Ransom’s been making it harder the more you’ve tried to avoid him.

Before you left on your well deserved two week holiday, you unceremoniously broke things off with him, telling the young Lothario that you were no longer going to be his plaything once you got back from visiting your family. You’d had enough. Ransom wasn’t going to call the shots any more.

“Will that be all, Harlan?” you ask softly.

“Yes, my dear,” he says with a smile. “Was delicious as always.”

“Glad to hear it.” You grab the tray from the small table at his side, your lips curling up into a gentle beam as you reciprocate his kindness. “Do you need anything else before I grab a bite to eat?”

“No, I’m fine, you enjoy your lunch, dear,” he replies. “I’m sure if I need anything in the interim, Ransom here will help,” he laughs, patting his grandson on the back of his hand. You give his guest a flicker of your attention before letting it drift quickly back to Harlan.

“I’ll be in the kitchen then. But please, you need something, just ring your bell.”

“Yes, yes of course.” He waves you off, but the old man is stubborn. Wouldn’t dream of wanting to disturb you while you had five minutes where you could take a moment to gather your thoughts.

For someone who feels the need to glue themselves to their employer just to feel safe, you cordially excuse yourself and rush a little too fast from the room.

After ten minutes alone in the vast kitchen, washing up Harlan’s few dirty plates and cups; you figure that maybe Ransom has given up or simply gone home, knowing that usually he’d have been breathing down your neck by now.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you begin busying yourself making a sandwich, flitting between the refrigerator and counter as you pick out the lettuce, a cut of chicken breast along with two slices of bread, and a jar of mayonnaise. As you prepare it, you hum along to a song you heard on the radio while driving over here this morning— a particular section of the chorus stuck on a constant loop until you’re sick of hearing of the same piece of tune repeating itself.

You’re in a world of your own as you spin round to grab yourself a plate— eyes suddenly drawn to Ransom standing in the doorway. You jump a little, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, it’s you,” you say. “Is Harlan okay? Does he need me?”

“No,” he replies flatly, but you don’t know which question his answer is in response to. He slinks further into the kitchen, effectively blocking your route of escape. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“I’m paid to take care of Harlan, not keep you entertained.”

“Not what you were saying a few weeks ago when you were writhing on my cock like a whore,” he grits, and your pussy throbs at the lewd memory.

You shrug. “Things change.”

“I’ve seen that man picking you up at night, y’know, once my grandfather goes to bed.” He crosses his arms over his chest.

“And?” you huff. “What business is that of yours?”

“As your boss, I should be aware of any strange and unwelcome men on my property.”

You scoff, “Harlan is my employer, and the last time I checked, this estate belongs to him, not you. So if you’ll excuse me—”

Picking up your plate, you make the decision to head back into the lounge where Harlan sits happily, just so you don’t have to be alone with his arrogant grandson a second longer. You attempt to squeeze past him, but he makes short work of the gap between him and the counter— moving into the space to stop you from leaving.

You try again, but Ransom is too quick, and in the struggle, the plate slips from your grasp, shattering against the marble floor as he shoves you hard into the wall, the meat of his forearm forced under your jaw.

“Are you okay out there, dear?” You hear Harlan shout.

“Tell him everything is fine,” Ransom threatens through gritted teeth. You part your lips, desperate to scream. “Tell him, everything is fine,” he repeats, eyes almost black.

“It’s okay, I— just dropped a plate!” You yell, voice cracking as Ransom’s forearm presses tighter against your larynx.

“Good girl,” he praises, lips curling up into a macabre smirk as his spare hand slides between your thighs, cupping your pussy tight. “Always so obedient.”

You swallow down a yelp when he pulls you away from the wall, spinning you around to face the counter, hands immediately pawing at your yoga pants.

“No, not here,” you whimper, as Ransom tugs the black material down your thighs, followed by your panties. You try to resist, grabbing hold of the side of them to pull them back up, but he’s too strong beneath that awful cable knit sweater. He snatches them out of your grasp, ripping the flimsy material away from your legs.

“Yes, now.”

For a fleeting moment, bare flesh meets the rough fabric of his slacks, replaced quickly by the heat of his cock, sliding through your folds until the head catches against the edge of your entrance. There’s very little resistance as he pushes inside you, filling you right up the hilt in one bruising thrust. A whimper tumbles from your lips, and all you can hear is Ransom laughing into your neck.

“Whores don’t just dump me and get away with it.”

“Ransom, please,” you beg, ears pricking at the sound of Harlan’s bell ringing from the next room, and he must hear it too as you try to squirm away.

“The old man can wait,” he grunts from behind you, as he curls an arm around your throat, bicep cutting off your air supply. “We’re a little busy, aren’t we, honey?”

Your reply comes out as a gargled moan, voice trapped before it can even have a chance to escape.

“And don’t think I didn’t hear that little slip up.” Ransom alters position behind you a little, the new angle making the head of his cock kiss your cervix roughly. “It’s still Hugh to you, slut.”

The tops of your thighs slam against the edge of the counter as his pace intensifies to a rhythm so punishing, you feel like you might pass out, and not just from the lack of oxygen.

“Does he fuck you this good?” he spits in your ear. “Make you cum like I can?”

“Fuck, n— no,” you lament, the crest of the pleasure wave you’re riding already at its peak.

“Didn’t think so,” he laughs. “Nobody knows this body better than me.”

At his word, his spare hand finds its way between the apex of your thighs, fingertips manipulating your clit. You splinter in his arms almost immediately, your vision blurring at the edges as you succumb, limbs trembling at the ecstasy setting your veins alight.

“Once I’m done filling this cunt up, you’re gonna stroll back in there, pretend like you haven’t got my cum running down your thighs, and smile at my grandfather like nothing happened.”

And just like the subservient mess Ransom always manages to reduce you to— you do.

***

Tagging my Marvel tag list in case they’re in the mood: @adreamemporium @andreasworlsboring101 @blancatobarxoxo @clemanime @cake-writes @chamberofsloths @caringparker @caspleasesavemyass @doctor-hp-mcu @deanwinchesterswitch @fanngirl19 @fandom-princess-forevermore @joseyrw @la-cey @negans-wife @smokeandnailz @superblychaoticdragon

Tagging a few CE hoes who will (hopefully!) enjoy this: @stargazingfangirl18 @threeminutesoflife @the-iceni-bitch @imanuglywombat @jtargaryen18

Forever: @anaelsbrunette @akumune @amandamdiehl @buttercandy16 @crashdevlin @castiel-has-bees @daughterofthenight117 @donnaintx @dandywinchesterbras @dumbbitchenergy17 @death-unbecomes-you @demonxbloodrunsthroughtheseveins @foxyjwls007 @hurricanerin @hoewkeye @heyyouwiththeassbutt @ilovefanfic86 @itsjustfics @itsthedoctah10 @imyournewfairygodmother @imcastiel-youassbutt @jewelswrites-ish @jenmisheels-bi-kid @letsby @letsdisneythings @multi-fandom-fanfiction @maddiepants @mogaruke @my-fav-imagines-17 @nightsbite @notyourtypicalrose @onethirstyunicorn @pink1031 @princessmisery666 @petitgateau911 @randomparanoid @ssworldofsw @sambucky8 @sea040561 @sillygoose6969 @sweeterthanthis @softie-socks @warriorqueen1991 @xoxabs88xox @zpandaqueen

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #chris evans fanfiction

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miss-smutty · 3 years ago

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Forbidden

Chapter 3

A/N- Evey couple of chapters you will get Professor Hemsworth's POV and this is the first one 🥵 I really wanted to write his story and hear his thoughts too.

Summary- He can't get her out of his mind, the girl in the coffee shop. Will fate bring them together again?

Word count- 2.9K

Pairing- Prof!Hems X Reader

Warnings- Age gap (OC is 20) student/professor relationship, swearing, dirty talk

18+ Only!

Disclaimer: This is an entire work of fiction/AU and has no affiliation to real life what so ever! This is a fictional story about fictional characters who happen to share names and faces with some real people.

Posted: 5th Sept 2021

Taglist:- @innerpaperexpertcloud @pandaxnienke @chickensarentcheap @jjpogueprincess @longlostinanotherworld @mostly-marvel-musings @darklydeliciousdesires @monet-belle @help2700 @presidentpotts

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Chris Pov

My Apartment was silent as usual, empty like always when I arrived home from work, throwing my coat and bag on to the sofa and slumping down next to them.

I couldn't stand the silence, it taunted me and brought back memories I'd rather not remember. I'd thought about getting a roommate but still hadn't gotten around to posting out an ad, the idea made me nervous. Although I hated being alone, living with a stranger would be even worse. I turned on the TV to fill the expanse of the large empty room that I'd work so hard for but ultimately meant absolutely nothing to me.

My mind began to wander back to this morning and the chance meeting with the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on. She'd taken my breath away and made me so nervous that I'd used some cheesy chat up line. I'd known at the time it would come back to haunt me tonight, no wonder she ran out of there as soon as she could. Thats why I hesitated, my hand brushed against the small of her back when I was about to ask her for her number and it took away my sensibility. I leaned in like I was about to kiss her, thank god I stopped myself though, how ridiculous would that have been?

I'd spoke to her for no more than ten minutes but somehow felt like I'd known her all my life. Asking for her number wouldn't have been the most unusual thing but she was in such a rush and I didn't want to make her late. There's absolutely nothing more I hate than tardiness.

I still couldn't get her off of my mind, she was beautiful, long dark hair that flowed down her back and the most piercing green eyes I'd ever seen. I couldn't stop looking into them, framed by dark eyelashes that made the emerald green pop even more. It's been a long time since I'd met a woman that made me feel as nervous as she did. The only thing is, she was young, much younger than me and I'd be fooling myself to think I'd actually stand a chance with her. Even if by some miracle I did, she deserved more than what I could give her, I was a mess, even after all this time I was still living in the past.

**********

I woke up feeling like a teenage boy again, a tent of my erection in the cotton sheets sprawled across my middle. I'd dreamt about the girl all night and honestly nothing about it was innocent. I rubbed at my eyes and stretched my muscles before finally getting out of bed, I had my first Junior Comms class to teach today and of course, I couldn't be late.

To say I was dreading today would be an understatement, I'd made a deal with the Dean to teach the Comms class because none of the other professors were willing and I was desperate for a job. I was hoping that if I exceeded expectations during my first semester I would finally get to teach psychology like I'd planned in the first place. Of course that meant being on my best behaviour and a lot of arse kissing, which I would do, albeit reluctantly.

The air was crisp this morning as I set off walking towards the university, luckily for me I didn't live to far away from the campus and the walk would help distract my thoughts because God knows they needed distracting. They always did.

Before I knew it, I'd arrived at the halls, looking up at the architecture of the building and realising my idea to walk obviously hadn't worked. I'd barely paid attention the entire time and it was only muscle memory that had gotten me to my required destination.

I held onto the door handle of the lecture hall and took a deep breath before stepping in, the room erupting into wolf whistles was not what I expected but admittedly better than what I was thinking. I scanned the room and my students, rolling my eyes at the girls lining the front row, their eager faces taking me in.

The class was full of typical students, the usual cliques you see at every educational institution. The jocks and cheerleaders, the nerds and oh fuck. The air was almost knocked from my lungs when I spotted her sat at the back of class. The girl I'd been talking to in the coffee shop yesterday, the girl that had been on my mind and in my dreams ever since. She was here, right in front of me which meant she was my student and younger than I'd actually thought. Fuck.

Even though she was now out of bounds I couldn't take my goddamn eyes off of her, the way her wavy hair cascaded over her shoulders. I could feel my cock tingling when my eyes fell to her low cut top and that unreal cleavage. I pulled my eyes away from her so as not to draw attention and focused on preparing for the lesson, leaving the students to whisper for a while longer while I recovered my composure.

Like a magnet, my eyes unwillingly kept finding their way back to her and she looked uncomfortable, squirming in her seat. I was making her uncomfortable and I still couldn't stop myself, I frowned as I subtly watched her cheeks blush and realised she's probably embarrassed because she'd been flirting with her Professor. Of course she'd be embarrassed, I was so much older than her but was it wrong that I didn't feel one ounce of awkwardness at the fact I had been flirting with a student?

All I could think about as I watched her tits bounce as she moved In her seat, was burying my face in her cleavage and I knew I had to look away before my dick reacted. The last thing I needed in a class full of students was to be walking around with a fucking erection.

I could stand there and watch her all day but certain students had stopped talking and they were waiting for me to speak and I'd almost forgotten why I was here In the first place. I really needed to get my head in the game, being infatuated with a student would definitely not get me the promotion I was looking for.

I pushed my hands in my tight pockets, hoping to stretch the fabric a little so my semi-hard dick wasn't so apparent, then my eyes were drawn to her again and she was talking to Jake. That pissed me off and I could feel my jaw tensing as I cleared my throat rather forcibly, hoping to get the attention of the whole class at the same time as distracting her from the rather friendly conversation she was having with another guy. A guy her age at that.

"Now I've got your attention, we're going to use our first session to get to know each other a little better. You'll be doing quite a lot of speeches so it's best if you feel comfortable with one another. I'll start by introducing myself." I looked at her again, gulping hard when I saw her with the end of her pen in her mouth and the way her lips wrapped around it. Fuck. "So, I'm Professor Hemsworth and I'm originally from Melbourne in Australia." I looked to her and she smiled, remembering what we spoke about yesterday.

A student started with the typical Australian stereotypes although I'm actually surprised no one told me to throw another shrimp on the Barbie. I laughed along anyway, I'd been expecting it, it's literally the first thing anyone who isn't Australian says when they first meet me. So when I told him it wasn't very original I meant it, I'd heard it a thousand times before and I'll hear it a thousand times again.

I told the class a little about myself before informing them they would do the same, it didn't go down well, the room filled with groans. I looked to her and she looked downright terrified, I sympathized for her, it wasn't easy speaking in front of a room full of people but was the best way to break the ice.

"Claire Abbott." I called, watching the blonde at the front stand, nervously. She giggled and twirled her hair around her finger as she smiled at me, I knew what she was doing. I quickly glanced at the girl from the coffee shop as she rolled her eyes at the blonde at the front, I smirked back at her, amused at her tolerance for predictable girls.

"I erm… I don't know what to say?" The blonde said, looking at me questioningly.

"Just anything about yourself that we might find interesting, the first thing that comes to mind."

"Well I own four horses and I'm the cheer captain." I had to stop myself from laughing when she rolled her eyes again but the smile soon disappeared when I saw Jake lean over to speak to her and the way she laughed at him made my blood boil. I was seething, not because they were speaking instead of listening but because she was speaking to him instead of me.

"You two at the back, we'll wait for you shall we?" I called them out, my voice more stern than I expected. I was pissed off that Jake would easily be able to get to know her and I couldn't. She stared at me, her eyes wide, she was surprised I'd called them out in front of everyone which made me even more pissed off because that probably blew my chances even more. What the hell am I thinking? What chances, I need to remember I'm her fucking Professor.

She sat silently through the rest of the class, I still couldn't keep my eyes off of her and thankfully neither could she. She looked flustered and I liked it, I liked that I could make her feel that way without even touching her. She was so goddamn hot I could hardly concentrate on what the other students were saying.

When I glanced down at the sheet of names in front of me and saw Jake's name my jaw clenched.

"Jake Hudson." I couldn't help narrowing my eyes as he stood up, I just knew he'd say something cocky and I was so fucking jealous of him right now. I closed my eyes for a second and took a deep breath, I needed to keep my cool, especially in a room full of students and her. If she knew what I was really like she wouldn't look at me the way she did.

"Hi, I'm Jake." I bit onto the inside of my gum, that bit of pain keeping me grounded. "I'm also from Australia." He gave me that fucking cocky half arsed smile I'd been waiting for and the adrenaline shot through me. I was thankful no one noticed apart from maybe the one person in here I didn't want to notice. She was watching me carefully. I had to loosen my tie a little as he continued to speak, I was burning up with rage.

I'm glad class was almost over, I needed a stiff drink and I needed it now. I looked at my sheet of names again and there were only a couple left, I wondered which one was hers. I needed to know her name. Fuck. I needed to know everything about her.

"Jessica Watson." She stood up. Fuck, Jessica, it was a cute name and fit her perfectly. I was mesmerized with her and the way she spoke as she tucked her long hair behind her ears. "These last couple of days have been pretty eventful for me." She looked right at me, what was she going to say? "I'm living the life of a romance novels heroine and I'm excited to see what the next couple of days bring." Oh fuck. Was she talking about meeting me? Or Jake? I like to think by the way she studied me as she spoke, she was talking about me. This was wrong, so wrong but why did it feel so right? I forgot there was anybody else in the room, my cock twinging as I pictured myself fucking her on this desk. I needed to stop thinking like this, it's unprofessional and completely immoral. I shook my head and turned back to the class.

"I hope we all feel a bit more comfortable with each other now, some of you shared some pretty revealing things." I looked at Jessica. "Some of you, not so much." Then raised my eyebrows at a group of guys in the middle of class that had used thier time to inform everyone about the party at their frat house this weekend. "I'll have a schedule for you all next time I see you, anybody that has any questions can see me after class, everyone else is free to leave." I looked at her one last time, hoping she'd use this opportunity to come and speak to me.

I sighed when I sat back at my desk and a group of girls took their opportunity, I wasn't in the mood for it but answered their questions anyway. I didn't take my eyes from Jessica, especially when Jake started speaking to her again. The girls in front of me were taking up my time, trying to flirt with me instead of asking relevant questions and I was over it.

"Do you actually have any questions about the course ladies? I have other things to be getting on with if not." I was a little short with them without actually meaning to be. I just wanted them out of my goddamn way so I could see what was going on with Jessica and Jake.

The girls finally left, more like stormed off but I couldn't care less right now. She was still sat at her desk which means she waited until I was alone which has got to be a good sign. We stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, the silence driving me insane so I cleared my throat and she blinked like I'd woken her from a daydream. What was she thinking about?

She packed up her things into her bag slowly, I could tell she was buying herself time but I felt relaxed now we were alone, in fact I felt excited which was completely ridiculous. I felt like a damn teenager.

"Did you need to talk Miss Watson?" I was amused and I needed to break the ice before the silence got the better of me. I leaned back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest.

"I erm…" She walked towards me, down the stairs, looking at her feet. She was unsteady and looked nervous as hell, was she going to tell me to back off? "I wanted to apologise, I had no idea you were a Professor." She stood at the bottom of the stairs, I was glad she wasn't too close. I don't know if I'd be able to control myself around her and lord knows I had to. The atmosphere was tense, neither of us really knowing what to say or do, all I could think about was ripping off her clothes.

"There's no need to apologise Miss Watson, I also had no idea you were a student but I was hoping to bump into you again. Funny how things work out isn't it?" I cocked my eyebrow at her, testing her, seeing how she would react to my comment. Something changed and she didn't look quite so nervous anymore.

"I think fate can be rather cruel Professor Hemsworth." The way she called me Professor stirred something deep inside me, a hunger I didn't know I had and when she moved closer to me I began to feel nervous.

"Oh really? Why is that Miss Watson?" She was so close now, I could smell her sweet scent of coconut shampoo. I wanted to touch her badly, I didn't though. I didn't dare because I knew if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself and I must restrain, she's my student after all. It's wrong. It's forbidden.

I still couldn't stop myself from flirting, like an uncontrollable impulse and as soon as I opened my mouth to try and be professional I would just go right ahead and flirt. She was so outrageously attractive but the kind of attractive where she didn't know it and didn't flaunt it, which I found even more endearing.

"I was hoping to bump into you again too, only now the thought of what could've happened will have to remain a fantasy." My restraint was really being tested now, she was teasing me, egging me on and the fact she'd also been fantasising about me made it extra difficult to resist. I had to loosen my tie again, I needed my fingers to be busy so I didn't touch her. I had an internal conflict going on inside my mind and it was like torture, if this was day one of class how the hell was I meant to survive the whole semester?

"I better get to my next class, we can't have anyone thinking I'm your favourite now can we?" Fuck sake. I ground my teeth together, I was glad she was leaving, I couldn't take the tension any longer but at the same time I knew, with distance the desire would only intensify. She turned to leave and I couldn't stop myself watching her hips sway as she walked, her ass was so round and bouncy, it hypnotised me and that's when I knew I was in deep trouble.

#smut #chris hemsworth #chris hemsworth fanfic #chris hemsworth smut #chris hemsworth x reader #chris hemsworth x you #chris hems x oc #chris hems x you #chris hemsworth thor #chris hemsworth x ofc #chris hemsworth x oc #chris hemsworth imagine #professor #professor x #professor x student

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jincherie · 5 years ago

Text

kiss it better | jjk

~ COMMISSION FOR @cinnaminsvga ~

✩ — pairing: jungkook x reader ✩ — genre: college/uni au, smut, cheerleader!jk, pining, borderline crack ✩ — words: 11.7k ✩ — rating: 18+ ✩ — warnings: koo takes a tumble, explicit sexual content; clothed sex, unprotected sex (not recommended), creampie, handjobs,light subby!jk, hand-holding during sex (potent), whining, thigh-riding, vaginal sex, minor hair pulling, public sex (sort of), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, light dirty talk ✩ — notes: out later than intended and a bit longer than intended !! whoops!!! i won’t/don’t charge if i go over the commissioned amount becayse that’s my bad!! but yeah. its been a hot second since i last wrote smut!! also none of my friends were awake to proofread this so….. apologies if it’s shit and has typos! its 2am! pls enjoy and lmk whast u think!!

When one goes to Kim Seokjin for advice, it’s almost guaranteed to never end well. This is something Jungkook learns quickly when he mistakenly follows treasured advice to ‘be smart’ and ‘use his assets’. He just did what he was told! Of course, the execution was a bit poor… and embarrassing. But hey, if rocking up to cheer practice in a skirt doesn’t woo your crush, what will?

masterlist | — posted; 01.03.2020

TUESDAY, SEMESTER 2 WEEK FOUR

It’s a beautiful day, the sun has just come to peak out from behind the clouds that had earlier obscured its climb from the horizon, and the grass of the Biological Sciences Library courtyard glistens with raindrops left over from the brief shower that prefaced the sun’s belated appearance. Students are finally beginning to emerge from the safety of the undercover walkways and overhangs, venturing boldly to shortcut over the grass. University life resumes, and everything falls back into its place, all as usual.

“Yah, is that Jungkook? Wait what is he—”

Well, everything except for one thing.

A red and black-clad figure slams to a stop right where two students are sitting and minding their own business outside the café attached to the back of the library—there’s no time to say hello. The table rocks dangerously on its beaten, metal leg, the impact of Jungkook’s beeline almost sending it straight to the ground if the two others weren’t already seated there to catch it.

“OW!” Jimin is never one to be quiet in his complaints, all too happy to holler his outrage at the top of his lungs. As his oldest hyung would say, no attention is bad attention. “Hey you almost jammed my fingers!”

Startled as Taehyung might have been, his focus is quickly shifted to other things. His wide eyes scan Jungkook’s panting form, taking in the clothes clinging to him like a second skin and the beet red colour of his face and ears. It’s not hard to put two and two together, but what comes out of his mouth isn’t exactly the most pressing thing he wants to ask, “Jungkook, why are you wearing the female cheer leading uniform I gave you?”

There’s a somewhat crazed look that makes itself known in the youngest’s eyes. “AHA!” he throws a finger in Taehyungs face, accusing. “So you ADMIT it’s a female uniform! Taehyung, you ass, how could you!”

Taehyung’s face is a question mark and Jimin squints, confused and still huffy about nearly losing his fingers and his triple-shot iced caramel latte that he may or may not have charmed the barista into gifting him for free. He wants to know what is going on and he wants to know NOW, damn it!

“What are you on about?” he asks, wrinkling his nose as he takes his drink into hand to prevent any future risk of spillage. “Why do you look like that time you ran the half-marathon on a dare?”

Jungkook glares at him, but it’s about as effective as it would be coming from a puppy. “Be quiet and sip your drink,” he says boldly, still attempting to get his breathing under control. Jimin considers throwing a retort back but ultimately decides against, it, shrugging and doing just that. He doesn’t want it getting warm, after all.

“Uh, yeah,” Taehyung says, sounding like he is a split second away from tacking on ‘duh’ at the end. “You asked me for a cheerleading uniform? I thought you knew some chick that needed a spare, I didn’t know you wanted one to wear.”

At Jungkook’s dumbfounded expression, Taehyung takes the liberty of continuing. “I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with it? You look surprisingly hot in a skirt, your ass looks fine as hell. But you seem kind of angry so IN MY DEFENSE, how was I supposed to know? That you wanted a male uniform? You never specified so—”

While each word that came out of Taehyung’s mouth just seemed to rile him up more, a different look passes over Jungkook’s features at that comment. “Wait, my ass looks good?” He straightens, attempting to peer over his own shoulder to catch a glimpse. “I wonder if she… No!”

He shakes his head suddenly to clear those thoughts and get back on track, whipping that same accusing finger in Taehyung’s face once more and levelling him with a renewed glare.

“Because of you, I just had the most humiliating experience of my life, and it was all in front of you-know-who!” His voice starts strong, but as he continues it shrinks to more of an angry whisper, his brows scrunched in a clear display of his displeasure. “I literally am about to commit seppuku.”

“Weeb,” Jimin utters at the same time as Taehyung asks, “y/n?” Jimin’s head whips up at the keyword.

Jungkook’s fight has all but left him at this point, and he pulls out one of the metal chairs to slump in it, defeatedly. His ears are turning crimson again as he recalls the events that had traumatised him so, and he slams his head to the table with a groan, muttering to himself in a voice that sounds dangerously like a sob.

“—stupid, was so stupid of me. I never should have asked Seokjin-hyung for advice. For actually listening I deserve nothing short of death. I’m so embarrassed I’m gonna throw myself into the lake.”

“Don’t throw yourself in there, think of the fishes—” Taehyung says at the same time as Jimin squawks, “WHAT?! You got advice from Seokjin?! He knows who your crush is? Oh my god, you’re more stupid than I thought…”

It’s all Jungkook can do to simply rest his head on the grubby-feeling table, eyes unfocused as he stares into the distance and regrets almost every single decision he has made in his waking life.

FOUR DAYS EARLIER

“My roommate,” Seokjin says, in between gratuitous sips of his monstrously sugary drink. “I think I’m almost about to get him to crack.”

“I feel bad for him,” you say, not looking up from your laptop despite the urge to gorge on your own drink. You made a goal not to look like a goblin when you woke up this morning and sipping your drink at a reasonable pace is a good start. “Being stuck in close quarters with you all the time. No doubt he needs therapy by now.”

As expected, Seokjin ignores you. You wonder if this is how he has managed not to get usurped as leader of the Contemporary Poetry Performance Club.

(To condense a very long story— he didn’t take being kicked out of the Drama Club very well. That’s on him though, he probably shouldn’t have called the Club Leader a tasteless fool for ordering a salad with his Happy Meal instead of nuggets. But, you digress.)

“I think I’m getting close these days,” the male muses, not-so-subtly making a reach for the McDonalds apple pie you have resting on the table next to your laptop. You smack his hand away without so much as a blink, more than used to having to defend any and all food from his wandering hands by this point. He continues, unaffected by the rebuttal, “Like, really close. It’s not long before my unrelenting bastardous antics wear him down and he finally breaks, spilling all his deepest secrets and confessing his long-time crush on me, thus allowing me to bring this act of friends-to-lovers pining to a close and get to the steamy stuff. “

At his spiel, you finally look at him, sporting a concerned and confused expression, if not somewhat intrigued. “… Are you talking about Jungkook?”

Seokjin chokes on the long sip he’d begun to drag up the straw, indignance making his voice rise. “NO, dumbass, I’m talking about Namjoon! Although…” He pauses only to bring a finger to stroke his chin, like a villain straight from an episode of Lazy Town, “You know, I never thought I’d be one for that harem shit, but now I think about it…”

“Gross,” you groan, wrinkling your nose. Seokjin releases a villainous cackle and you have no choice but to raise your fist in promise. He gets the message and quietens down immediately.

“No, but speaking of that little twerp,” Seokjin quickly starts up again, placing his drink down on the table. You feel an ounce of regret, knowing that means he’s about to talk for a longer time than you’re ready for. “I’m close to breaking him too.”

“He told you who his crush is?” you ask, brows raising in shock. Seokjin lets out a great sigh like the weight of the world is on his shoulders, making you snort.

“No,” he grumbles, before brightening straight after. “But! I’m getting close. He came to me for advice this morning.”

At his words, you’ve now completely abandoned whatever you were doing on your laptop and are looking at him in disbelief. “You’re lying.”

“Am not!” Seokjin denies, huffy. “He did! He wanted help making his crush fall in love with him, and so of course he came to me, Kim Seokjin, master of the heart and modern-day cupid.”

You pin him with a deadpan look. “Namjoon was out, wasn’t he.”

Seokjin’s glare is all the answer you need. He continues like you hadn’t even spoken in the first place.

“And since he so wisely came to me, of all people, and put his love life in my wise, gentle hands, I gave him the best advice anyone could possibly get.” The way his chest has swelled with pride and he’s looking all-too-pleased with himself doesn’t fill you with a good feeling. “I told him to play it smart, and use his assets.”

At first, you’re confused. “What, like… his cuteness? His endearing personality?”

“NO, dumbass, his assets! His ass! His thighs! His itty-bitty waist!” You think you hear him muttering something like ‘that lucky bitch’ under his breath, but can’t be sure. “Also, don’t think I missed you calling him cute, y/n. I’m filing that shit away for later.”

“I’ll kill you,” you inform him, but the threat has long since lost its impact. He rolls his eyes.

“Shut up, we both already know exactly how 'peggable’ you think he is.” He takes a haughty sip of his drink like he knows he’s right, and you hate that he is. “It’s not the most incriminating thing I have on you.”

You make the strategic decision not to say anything and dig your hole deeper, and Seokjin seems pleased at your silent admit of defeat.

“Anyway,” he says again, smacking the cream on top of his drink down into the liquid with a spoon. There is some fallout, but that’s never stopped him before. “Kid’s dumb as shit but pure of heart. I’m interested to see whether he will actually take my advice.”

“He won’t for sure,” you scoff, returning to your laptop at last. “Anyone who takes your advice is guaranteed to have an empty head and quarter of a brain cell to their name. Jungkook is smarter than that.”

As expected, Seokjin squawks in outrage, and it harmonises with the ambience of dead silence in your corner of the library. He doesn’t let the topic rest for the remainder of the day.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK FIVE

You think that the day Jungkook first rocked up to cheer practice at the gym a week ago at the same time you were coaching the women’s basketball team, is one firmly burned into your memory for the rest of your life. And, honest to god, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Because the boy, in all his slim-waisted, sculpted-ass-and-thighs glory, had rocked up in a cheerleading crop top and skirt.

You have absolutely no idea why he decided to wear that to his first session after joining, but you do know that while the sight of him usually makes you drool, the sight of him in that made your brain cease all higher functioning and you, in essence, became a dog. You almost barked when you saw him, for real.

Even from across the room though, you’d quickly been able to gather that he hadn’t worn it on purpose (somehow), as his face flushed bright crimson and he quickly began to look like he wanted to neck himself in the middle of the gym. Yoongi, another bastard friend of yours who through a series of unfortunate events and regrettable decisions (for him) had become the cheer captain, had been insulted that Jungkook had shown up like that and “hadn’t taken cheer seriously”, and so had given him a punishment. Yoongi said that if he wanted to rock up in a skirt so badly, then for every coming practice he had to wear a skirt again.

Had you not been busy drooling you probably would have felt bad for Jungkook, as you did later when Yoongi filled you in. As it were, in the moment you’d nearly copped a basketball to the face for being so distracted. Regrettably, you’d had to turn away from Jungkook and back to your actual duties: coaching.

Although with Yoongi being out for your blood, you have had plenty of opportunities in the past week to ogle to your heart’s desire. A real shameful amount, if you’re being honest with yourself.

“Bora!” you call, watching the girl in question halt across the gym. “Fix your footwork or I’m gonna smack you!”

The girl rolls her eyes and turns away, flicking a ponytail of dark hair over her shoulder as she does so, but listens to what you say. The familiar squeak of rubber on gym flooring fills the air as she starts the drill anew. She has a tendency to get lazy and sloppy in her movements if you don’t ride her ass, and she knows it as much as you do.

“How did you even managed to get the coaching position?” Seulgi asks from next to you, her response almost cut off by a loud racket from the cheer side of the gym. It takes all of your willpower not to fall into the trap and look over. “I feel like people like you shouldn’t be in positions of power.”

You don’t even bother arguing with her since she’s technically right and you agree. “Sheer dumb luck,” you tell her, risking a glance to the side if only to give Yoongi the stink eye. “Actually, if you really wanna know, I only went for it because Yoongi wanted it and he did something that really soured my yoghurt and pissed me off. So I applied out of spite. I probably shouldn’t have gotten the job though.”

“Huh,” Seulgi voices, eyes unfocused. “Well you’re not too bad for a fake. The team has actually been improving since you took over.”

“That’s probably because you guys went through coaches so fast for a while that for like, six months you didn’t really have one.”

“Touché.”

The only reason the girl is on the sidelines in the first place is because she’d looked over at the wrong time and caught it just as Jungkook started one of the tumbling routines, getting it almost perfect on the first go and in the process flashing his pert ass to the air and any sorry beholders. He might have been wearing bike shorts under the punishment skirt he was modelling, and he might have traded the crop top for a singlet of reasonable length, but it was still a dangerous, nay lethal sight. You’d looked over at the same time so you knew why and how Seulgi managed to tumble and trip so terribly mid-drill. She rolled her ankle so bad that as she sits next to you right now with ice on it, it looks like there’s an entire boiled egg beneath the surface of her skin. It’s kind of gross but also kind of hard to look away from.

Back to the topic at hand, there is just something about the sheer athleticism and heaven-blessed ease with which Jungkook backflips and cartwheels across the mat that turns you into a brainless slab of goo. You’re unsurprised that Seulgi got distracted and ended up hurting herself as a result of it.

The afternoon flies by and before you know it, it’s dark outside, and you’ve finished riding the collective women’s basketball team’s ass for the day. As they disperse and leave the gym at a leisurely pace, you collect Seulgi and help her towards the gym locker room to get some fresh ice for her ankle before she journeys to visit the university nurse.

The cheer squad has just about finished up their own practice, and one by one they begin to filter out of the gym. Yoongi waddles over to where you stand by the door, eyeing Seulgi with a knowing look.

“Got distracted at the wrong time, huh?” He asks, very much already knowing the answer. You give him a dirty look while Seulgi goes bright pink.

Yoongi adjusts the collar of his university sports jacket, puffing his chest out. “That’s our golden boy for ya,” he brags, sounding very much like one of the aunties and old women you find gossiping on the street near the markets. “He was born for cheer. It’s like he’s been tumbling since the day he was born. Probably even came out doing a backflip.”

You want to tell him to stop pulling shit out of his ass, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything when you agree so wholeheartedly. You’re saved from having to summon a response when in the next second, Yoongi gets the urge to turn and catches Jungkook red-handed on his way out of the gym. He seems in a hurry, moving almost like he’s trying to sneak out unnoticed, but halts at the unmistakable sound of Yoongi’s holler when it breaches the air.

“Ah there he is— Jungkook-ah!” Even while calling out, Yoongi somehow still has an indolent, lazy drawl. “Good job today! Also, proud of you for committing to your punishment. Keep it up!”

The poor raven-haired boy had already looked somewhat mortified at being singled out amongst the students exiting the gym, but now as Yoongi finishes speaking and his big doe eyes flick to the side and take in you and Seulgi listening in, his face very suddenly and violently erupts into a blush.

“Th-thanks,” he squeaks, nodding, the tips of his ears darkening to match his face. His eyes are flicking from you to Yoongi in such a way he almost reminds you of a scared rodent. When it becomes clear he has nothing more to say, he turns on his heel and flees in the direction of the locker room. For his sake, you don’t ogle him as he goes. There’s a time and a place, and he seems so embarrassed that you’d feel bad for checking him out right now.

“… He’s so cute,” Yoongi remarks a few seconds after Jungkook disappears out the door, gaze still trained in the direction he’d left. “No wonder I always look over and see you drooling, y/n.”

You agree with the first part, but honestly… you could have done without that second comment. You give him the stink eye to let him know just that, before tapping Seulgi and readjusting your grip in preparation to walk once more.

“If you’re immune, Min, you’re not human,” Seulgi says, cheeky glint in her eye. Your heart warms—you can always count on her to defend you in the face of life’s meanies.

SATURDAY, WEEK 5

It’s not often you find yourself making the long, arduous trek down the street to the apartment building where Seokjin et al. live, but it does happen on the occasion. If possible, you like to make the journey in the morning or the afternoon, because there is little to no cover on the path that takes you there and the only thing you like less than being in the sun when you don’t have to is sweating.

Still, you make the trek today, even though it’s technically past the point in the morning where you would refuse. The heat starts to come anywhere from 8 to 9 o’clock, even earlier on the stinkier days. Call you lazy, but you stick by your own rules because they work and reduce your suffering considerably.

Namjoon is one of your project partners in a random elective the two of you chose, and he was meant to give you a part of the assignment he’d been working on yesterday but, of course, forgot it. And then again today, when he was meant to drop it off on his way to work, he forgot it once more. So here you are, walking to his stupid apartment and preparing to break in because it’s due next week and you need his part to finish yours, damn it.

Thankfully, air conditioning greets you the second you step inside the building and cools down whatever heat has managed to cling to your form from outside. Luck is on your side—no sweat today, babey! In a slightly better mood now that you’re out of the sun, you follow the path your legs have committed to memory to Namjoon’s apartment.

Normally you’d rely on someone being home to let you in so you can ransack Namjoon’s room, but in his apologetic text he’d informed you that everyone is out and so with a great, big sigh you’d resigned yourself and dug the lockpicking set you received one Christmas out from under your bed. It’s heavy in your back pocket now as you walk down the hallway of the floor their apartment is on, already feeling like you’ve committed a crime. Before you can even throw yourself into thoughts of which tool would work best on their front door, you catch sight of something you most definitely weren’t expecting.

There’s someone else in front of the apartment door, jiggling the doorknob and attempting to work it. You don’t know if they realise its locked and are trying their luck anyway, or whether they’ve yet to figure it out, but while their back is turned to you they have provided you with an excellent view.

Broad shoulders with tan skin peaking out from below a muscle singlet and glistening with sweat where their body catches the light. Dark curls are plastered to the back of their neck, arms out and a tattoo sleeve on one leading your gaze down its length. He’s very athletic, you gather of the stranger immediately, and you’re almost drooling at the way his bicep shifts and tenses as he tries the doorknob once more. Your gaze finally frees itself and scans over the rest of him; defined back, tiny waist, nice butt, thick thighs—

Wait. You know that waist. The sight of it bared by a skimpy cheerleading outfit is one you’ve committed to memory.

“Jungkook?” you say, feeling your stomach dip in excitement. Does it always do that when you see him? You can’t remember.

At the sound of your voice and how close it is, the male jumps in fright and lets out a noise eerily close to a squeak. He spins, slamming his back against the door and smacking a hand over his heart.

“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes closing and head falling back against the door with a thud. The sight is borderline sinful when combined with his damp hair and sweaty form, and your thoughts threaten to take a dangerous route before you reign them in. You smack your libido back in place— down, girl! “y/n, you scared the living shit out of me.”

A moment passes before his eyes snap open and the breath leaves him in a whoosh, and he’s looking at you like a cornered rabbit, cheeks already warming in his fluster. “W-wait, y/n? What… What are you doing here?”

Cute. If you could, you think you’d pack him up and put him in your pocket.

You ignore his question only for the sake of asking him your own—much less incriminating as a choice. “Are you trying to break into your own apartment, Mister Jungkook?”

Instantly, as you’d almost come to expect at this point, his cheeks flush cutely.

“Wh- I, uh…” he swallows and clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “No! Kind of? I went for a jog earlier and Namjoon-hyung kind of… uh… he locked me out.”

As he speaks, you’re reminded of how much you actually like his voice. It’s smooth, melodious; even when its shaking slightly from nerves. Why is he nervous? The longer you stand in his presence the more curious you become. You kind of want to tease him a little.

You hum, a smile curling the corners of your lips and one of your brows raising. “Ah, so he’s scorned both of us, I see. But fear not, little gumdrop!”

He’s staring at you in something akin to flustered bewilderment as you reach behind you and pull out your lockpicking kit, brandishing it like a trophy. “I have the solution!”

“…” He’s stunned into silence, it seems, but you don’t mind. The look on his face right now is super cute—you kind of want to pinch his cheeks. Okay, damn it, you can’t help it—you pinch his cheek and make a short cooing noise as you step past, preparing to help him break into his apartment. At least this way it feels less like a crime and more like a service.

(You sneak a sly look back at Jungkook as you pass him, and your heart squeezes at the sight of his cheeks flushing pink from your teasing action, eyes wide as they follow your form. This boy is gonna kill you one day.)

Usually you have a bit of trouble picking locks (you don’t do it often) but you crack this one surprisingly fast, and before you know it the door is swinging open and you’re letting out a noise of glee.

“Excellent!” you announce, before darting right in to search for what you came for. Namjoon left it conveniently on the dining table, so you dash over and grab the folder and USB before turning around to be on your merry way.

When you return to the door, Jungkook is still standing there, tattooed hand pressed to the cheek you’d pinched – which are bright red, by the way— and his eyes somewhat dazed.

“See you at practice later, Jungkook!” you say, waving the folder to accentuate the farewell. “Don’t forget the punishment skirt! You look too good in it, it would be a crime to forget it.”

Once you’re done speaking, you turn back the way you’re walking, missing the facial expression that accompanies his flustered sputtering of a goodbye. Your stomach still flips in excitement as you retreat, a skip in your step, and you can’t help but think it wouldn’t be a bad thing if you ended up seeing more of Jungkook outside of practice.

WEDNESDAY, WEEK 6

You’re sitting in the campus sushi place, escaping the midday heat and grabbing something to eat, minding your own business. It is, though, a nice day and you don’t mind sitting back and just admiring it. This changes when a figure suddenly comes bolting towards you from a distance and nearly bowls you and the contents of your sushi container over.

“SEOKJIN!” you exclaim, barely having saved your food from a sudden and unfortunate meet & greet with the floor. You give him a glare strong enough to kill. “What the hell! My karaage chicken!!! Dude you KNOW they only make a certain amount of these per day, you almost made me drop it and I hadn’t even taken a bit yet! Honestly! You—”

“Shut! Shut up!” Seokjin grips you by the shoulders, giving you a shake; it makes your eyes lock-on to his flushed face, his breath coming in pants from his exertion. “Shut up I have something to say and it’s important!”

“Stop shaking me!” you cry, wriggling out of his grip and leaning as far back into your chair as you can to get away from this nutcase. “And what?! You finally slipped up and Namjoon found all the secret letters you write for him when you’re horny?!”

“No, better!” Seokjin makes like he’s going to grab your shoulders again and you smack his hands away. He continues, eyes alight with something akin to glee that makes him look just a little bit crazy. “I finally did it! I found out who that twerp’s crush is! You won’t beli—”

“What?!” you sputter, your gut churning for some reason. Is the sushi you ate off? “He told you? No way he would be stupid enough to tell you—”

“Hey!” the male cries, indignant. “I resent that! Also no, he didn’t technically tell me, but I have people on the inside…”

It takes a moment for you to scan through people in your head before it clicks. You gasp. “You bullied it out of his friends?! Seokjin! Taehyung and Jimin don’t deserve that!”

“I didn’t bully them! They told me of their own accord!” He points a finger at you in retribution. “Albeit, it was by accident, but I digress.”

You’re shaking your head, returning to your sushi and ignoring the odd sensations in your gut. “This is blood information, man. I don’t know if I can sit and be accomplice to—”

“It’s you!” Seokjin blurts, sticking his pink-haired head right in your face. “The twerp has a crush on you! Finally, at least one of my shipping dreams is coming true!”

You’re so shocked by the information literally thrown in your face that you honest to god almost drop your sushi, again. You stare at the male, mouth open, as you flounder to get some order back in your thoughts.

The first thing you think to say is—“What? No way. Your info is dodgy, man.”

“Look, I know you’re sensitive so I try not to say this often, but are you dumb, y/n?” Seokjin stands back now, hand on his hip. The look he’s giving you isn’t impressed. “It makes so much sense! Why else would he sign up to cheerleading in a skirt to use his assets if it wasn’t on at the same time as whatever his crush does? Honestly, I should have seen it sooner—the way he goes bright pink every time he sees you and his eyes sparkle like an anime girl every time we mention you. I just thought he was scared of girls or had pinkeye or somethin’.”

You kind of want to smack him, but the rest of you is busy attempting to process all the information unloaded on you. Your stomach gives a giddy flip, and you decide it can only mean one thing in the wake of finding out that Jungkook’s mysterious crush is you.

Maybe, just maybe, you like him too.

…

You’re gonna pursue him.

THURSDAY, WEEK 7

It seems that Jungkook has heard that his crush on you has been leaked, because you’ve been trying to track him down and confirm it ever since last week and he’s been avoiding you like the plague. You think you see him kicking up dust as he retreats as fast as his legs will take him around hallway corners when he sees you at the other end, you catch glimpses of him across courtyards as he spins and flees in the opposite directions. A part of you wonders whether its because he does indeed have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you know, of whether it’s because he doesn’t have a crush on you and is embarrassed that you might think he does.

Well, you can’t know until you talk to him and it seems like you won’t be able to talk to him unless you ambush him in the men’s toilets or something. Which, by the way, isn’t something you’re going to do because even though your friends might be crazy, you’re most definitely not.

It was even to the point that Jungkook missed the first two practices after you found out, and you have no doubt that he would have avoided you by missing even more had Yoongi not threatened him with adding a crop top to his punishment attire should he miss another practice. He’d showed up for the next one but every time he came within five metres of you he blushed and kept his eyes to the ground, fleeing as soon as he can.

It’s a little bit frustrating, and he’s still cute when he acts all shy, but you really wish you could track him down just so you know whether its true or not.

Perhaps, with time, he’ll grow a little less skittish and let you get close enough to start a conversation. You just have to hold out hope that a moment will come that will allow you to start bridging things back together with the two of you.

FRIDAY, WEEK 7

That moment comes sooner than you expect when, just the next day, you round a corner alongside Seulgi, having just come from the women’s locker rooms, and walk straight into someone. It’s like walking into a brick wall and kind of hurts. You stumble and let out a sound in pained surprise, but manage to stay on your feet for the most part— the joy at that moment of success passes quickly when you become aware of the cool feeling seeping down your thigh and stomach.

Before even looking to see who you walked into, your gaze is directed down to see what was spilt on you— it’s light pink, and the sugary sweet scent that brushes your nose and sticky sensation that begins to make itself known on your skin are something you recognise instantly.

Strawberry milk.

You look up in something akin to horror, but the expression all but falls from your face when you see who the culprit is.

Jungkook stands there looking very much like a deer caught in headlights, drink carton crumpled and empty in his hand now that its contents are all over your front. As you gaze at him you watch the tip of his ears turn bright red, eyes wide and so unguarded you swear you can see the thoughts whipping through his mind beyond them. You also see the instant regret and mortification that washes over his boyish features as he realises what has just happened and who he has spilt his drink on.

“y-y/n—” he stutters, voice caught in his throat. Whatever he was planning on saying is quickly overpowered by an obnoxious voice from his side.

You hadn’t even noticed Yoongi was walking alongside Jungkook until you hear him speak, “Wow, you know what you were coming around that corner so hard and fast that this is on you, y/n.”

When Yoongi first started talking, Jungkook had seemed relieved, but now a sense of panic has taken over his features.

“N-no! I am so sorry! This was my fault, I shouldn’t have had it open when I couldn’t even drink it yet. I just really like strawberry milk, and…” He’s so endearingly remorseful as he speaks, big puppy eyes looking apologetically into your own like he’s searching for any hint of forgiveness there to spare.

For a moment you’re absolutely blindsided by the way he just made your heart squeeze in your chest with how damn cute he is, but you recover just in time to catch it as the shocked expression on Yoongi’s face melds into something devious and fitting for his bastardly title.

“Right, he’s right, totally our bad,” Yoongi says, doing a complete 180 and bewildering both you and Seulgi beside you. “Wow, look at your pants, totally soaked through man. Here, come with me— it’s only fair we help grab you something to change into.”

“What—” you don’t get to finish before the cat-faced bastard grabs you by the arm and begins dragging you down the hall in the direction you came from. Seulgi and Jungkook remain in place, stunned by the turn in events.

“Jungkook, head to practice and get them started! I want some pyramid practice, and then some tumbling from you and the others. Chop chop!” — is all Yoongi throws over his shoulder in dismissal, dragging you where you now realise is one of the other locker rooms. You gape at him as he walks straight up to the one that has been locked for months and opens it with a key.

Catching your expression, he shrugs. “Sometimes you just need a place of your own to hoard things.”

You don’t understand what he’s talking about until you step in and see a table in the corner near the doorway piled high with first aid supplies, twiggy sticks and energy drinks. Your bewildered subsequent scan of the room for more treasured objects is cut short when a lump of clothing smacks you in the face.

You just barely manage to fumble it into your grasp, unable to swallow your groan when you see what it is from the pattern alone.

“It’s the only thing spare,” Yoongi says, radiating true goblin energy. You don’t trust him as far as you can throw him right now but you don’t know where to look to disprove him. “Try not to get my cheerleaders too worked up.”

You have an inkling as to why he’s done this from his words, but can’t confirm it right now. You huff, moving off to one of the stalls.

“If people get flashed, that’s on you.”

Ten minutes later sees you back in the open gymnasium with cool air brushing your legs that usually only get to see the light of day through rips in your jeans. You set your team to their tasks and drills already, so now you’re left alone with your thoughts. You know for sure now why Yoongi made you change into the cheerleading skirt.

Because ever since you walked out in it and nearly made him fall flat on his face in shock, Jungkook hasn’t been able to keep the blush off his cheeks or his eyes away from you for more than a few minutes at a time. You feel slightly empowered, contrary to how you thought the dangerously short piece of clothing was going to make you feel.

You have a nice body, you’re comfortable admitting it, and the way that your unplanned flaunting of it seems to be affecting Jungkook… well it’s a nice stroke of the ego, you won’t lie, but it also makes your stomach flip giddily. God, you want him. You’ve always thought he was cute but ever since he joined cheer and rocked up in that skirt like a sweet, hot fool, it was over for you. He’s so… ugh.

Trucking through the practice of your team is, for once, a struggle. It’s so hard not to look over every few seconds to catch Jungkook when you can feel his gaze on you, and you know that once you give in you won’t be able to help being distracted afterwards. It’s a miracle you get through to the end of it while remaining sane.

As your practice wraps up for the day, you allow yourself a glimpse to the side at last. What you see is a sweaty, panting Jungkook, the muscles of his arms straining as he holds up a brunette you vaguely recall as Tzuyu above his head. Wow, you’re actually a little startled at how much arousal just washed through you— is this normal? Maybe you’re more whipped than you thought. You don’t know.

What you do know, however, is that you want that boy, and right now especially you want to mess with him. Call it a con of being around such bastardous friends all the time, but you’re really feeling the urge. You barely manage to hold yourself back, marvelling at the animal he seems to reduce you to with just a flex of his bicep.

The practice for your basketball team finishes before cheerleading; Yoongi is a ruthless coach and relentless when it comes to formations and perfecting routines. More often than not their practices end long after yours. As your girls begin to filter out of the gymnasium, the cheer squad are still going. You make to follow after, but your name is called from the other side of the gym by a voice you recognise but know instantly shouldn’t be here.

“y/n! Come here! Don’t ignore me!” Seokjin is the fiend in question, hollering at such an unmistakable frequency that you couldn’t ignore it if you tried. It’s like he’s followed in the footsteps of cats and has pinpointed the exact frequency that a baby’s cry is at, and is now using it to his advantage. You turn, wary, and see him waving like a dumbass. “Come here! Don’t make me pspspsps!”

Now annoyed, you stomp over if only so you can get within beating range. As soon as you reach a few feet away he ducks behind Yoongi though, so you don’t get to follow through on your caveman instincts to beat him over the head with a rock.

“What?” you ask, giving him a stinky look. “Are you like, stalking me or something? Why are you so obsessed with me?”

You can tell he wants to laugh, but his instinct to rile you up overpowers the humour of what you said. “You think you’re worth stalking? I don’t need to stalk you to know that your day consists almost entirely of eating, shitting, and staring at a certain ass.”

Well, he has you there. You shrug, “I’m a simple girl.”

Seokjin is momentarily bewildered that you didn’t rise to his bait and Yoongi chokes on his laughter beside you, the sound coming out squeaky. You’re glad someone is laughing, it makes your dick hard when people find you funny. Again, you’re a simple girl.

“Nice outfit, by the way,” Seokjin says. Apparently it doesn’t take him long to recover, and he’s already shifted topics.

Yoongi, who had broken away to guide his team for a moment, chimes back in at the taller male’s comment. “It’s all apart of the keikaku, man. Everything is going perfectly. My golden boy is almost too fun to torment. I’ve tasted power and now I don’t know how to stop.”

“Who?” Seokjin asks, more out of habit than anything, before looking over to Yoongi’s minions and letting out a sound of realisation. “Ahh… Mister Jungkook.”

You swear you see the male in question, who is waiting his turn to begin the tumbling routine Yoongi has changed them onto, stiffen. You’re not sure whether it is a trick of the light or not, though, because in the next second he’s shuffling forward to second in line, juggling his weight from foot to foot with restless energy. His eyes are trained on his teammates flipping across the matts.

“So you know too? y/n, you big-mouthed whore!” Seokjin exclaims, pinning you with an exaggerated look of scandal. Jungkook trips slightly in his step as he moves to the front of the line, barely a few metres away.

You don’t bother defending yourself, since Yoongi speaks before you can anyway. “That y/n likes Jungkook and has wanted to peg his cute ass since forever? Yeah, I know.”

The timing of Yoongi’s response is truly unfortunate. As he started speaking, Jungkook began his run up— and it seems that whatever snippet he heard as he started were enough to throw him off completely. He goes into the front flip kind of wonky, and you have a feeling of dread creep up as you watch him.

He doesn’t do the mid-air turns he is meant to, and instead goes to land after just one flip— the timing is off, though, and your breath hisses through your teeth and you physically cringe as you watch his ankle roll upon landing.

“Ah SHIT!” he yelps, quickly dropping to the mat and removing pressure from his foot. You feel frozen as you watch, a large number of his teammates running over and asking him if he’s okay.

“Oh feck,” Yoongi says, checking his watch as he mutters to himself. “Shit. Okay we need to practice and only have the gym for another forty-five minutes, but he needs that looked at asap. Who…”

Barely a split-second passes before he’s looking right at you imploringly, with an inappropriately devious glint in the back of his eyes.

“y/n, you’re free and you have first aid training right? Can you take him to get that wrapped and iced up?” He’s not even done asking you before he’s pushing you in the direction of the male currently curled on the floor. “That room should still be open— I forgot to lock it earlier.”

“Wait, I actually have—” you’re about to let him know about the mountain of schoolwork you have to catch up on, but of course he’s not having any of it. He’s already barking at his squad.

“Okay, everyone, back off and back to tumbling! y/n here will take care of our golden boy, we have the gym for the next forty-five minutes and we’re gonna make the most of it, damn it!”

Yoongi abandons you at Jungkook’s side, and at his command the rest of the cheerleader begrudgingly disperse— you think you catch a few of the female ones giving you the stink eye at their lost opportunity, and you know it shouldn’t stroke your ego but still it does.

“I guess this is how the Kookie crumbled, huh,” you say, embarrassed that he could have heard all of what Yoongi said and attempting to cope using the classic— humour.

Jungkook, who had turned his wide eyes and red face to you the second you started talking, now seems to be blushing harder. Evidently, for a number of reasons, he is mortified. It’s like he’s trying to hide behind the long curls that have fallen into his face. Needless to say, it’s not successful, and now both of you are embarrassed. One of you needs to take the lead.

But right now neither of you are wearing the pants.

“Alright, let’s get that looked at,” you say, wincing as you look at his ankle already beginning to swell. “Arms up.”

He obeys instantly and without question, and you’re torn between the primal powers within you wanting to both cuddle him and to drop your panties then and there.

Getting Jungkook to a standing position while he can only use one leg is harder than you could have imagined, but you know that there’s no way you would have been able to lift him had he not helped you carry his weight. Once he’s upright and his arm is around your shoulder (still panting slightly and glistening with sweat, as you’re trying not to think about) you begin the arduous journey to the locker room Yoongi showed you earlier.

Jungkook doesn’t really say anything during the trip there, and neither do you— except he has an excuse, considering he’s probably in a fair bit of pain right now. You don’t have an excuse, except that you’re trying desperately not to think about how you can feel each hard line of his body against you right now. It’s a whole-brain engaging kind of activity.

Thankfully, the room is unlocked as Yoongi said, and you grab a towel to lay across one of the cleaner looking benches on the far side of the room— just because its cleaner than the others doesn’t mean it’s clean, per se. You smile when you see Jungkook’s thankful expression.

“Right,” you say, staying in front of where he’s sitting for a moment as you shake your arms out; the boy really is just all muscle, honestly. “Pop your ankle up on the bench, and I’ll grab some ice and stuff to wrap it.”

Jungkook nods, obeying wordlessly. His cheeks still are tainted the slightest pink, and he’s making a point to avoid meeting your gaze. Fighting a smile, you move to Yoongi’s stash and grab what you need, spotting some high-end painkillers and immediately adding them to the pile in your arms.

When you return to his side, you seat yourself on the bench beside his leg— thankfully, they’re wide enough that neither your butt nor Jungkook’s leg has to be sacrificed for the fit. You go through the motions with him, poking and prodding and bending to assess the damage; it’s just a bad sprain, but damn if each watery look he gets at the pain doesn’t make you want to coddle him to death.

Surprisingly, he’s still silent as you go about icing and wrapping his ankle. You contemplated filling the silence but you’re not good at chit chat or small talk, so refrain and settle for humming softly instead. Considering the rollercoaster of feelings he’s spun you through today, you’re almost disappointed that a wrap on his ankle is all that’s going to come of this.

Which is stupid, of course. You know. You digress.

You’re still somewhat disappointed as you finish up, popping the excess bandage back in its container. “Okay! You’ll need to…”

You make the mistake of meeting his gaze, and for once he doesn’t shy away from it— there’s something about them, the endless chocolate depths and the doe-eyed look, that completely disarms you for a moment. Blinking, it takes all your might to stop yourself from studying as you continue. “Ahem, uh… you’ll need to keep it elevated, when possible. Compressing it is ideal. Also, for swelling, ice it for 20-30 minutes every 2-3 hours for the first day or so…”

He blinks up at you, and you smile. “Any questions?”

Something intriguing crosses his gaze and he bites his lip, flushing slightly. Oh, he is doing a number on your willpower. You need to get out of here.

“Yeah, uh…” He clears his throat, continuing straight away. You watch even more colour rush to his cheeks, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. “About earlier… when I stacked it… Was what Yoongi said true?”

Well. You were not… expecting that. For a moment you’re stunned into silence, self control hanging by a thread. “What… Yoongi said?”

Jungkook gives you a look like he can’t believe you’re making him say it. “That you, um…”

Humiliated but deciding to face it head on, you ask him with your own cheeks heating, “Are you asking about the pegging or the, uh… the liking you part?”

To your surprise, Jungkook chokes and stiffens in place, eyes shooting wide and face and ears going beet red. “I, um… I only heard the liking part…”

OH. Well. You kind of want to die, but… at least now he knows?

…You’re gonna throw yourself off a bridge.

He must mistake the cause of your silence for something else, because he seems to panic. “B-because, um, I know you know how I feel, and it’s okay if you don’t um— I was just wondering—”

In the midst of his spiel, you take a seat on the bench, closer to him than you were last time. It only makes him grow more flustered before you press a finger to his lips to shush him. He gets the message and falls silent instantly, making your heart skip a beat at his ready obedience. God, are you an animal?! Really?!

“I was trying to track you down to confirm it, you know,” you say, shoving your embarrassment into a box in the far reaches of your mind. Time to swallow your pride. “But you kept avoiding me.”

Jungkook’s eyes are still wide. “Oh… sorry.”

You smile at his soft, uttered apology. Testingly, tentatively, you shift your hand and rest it on his hip. His whole body stiffens once more, but its more in surprise than discomfort. “What would you do if it was true, hm?”

Like a deer caught in headlights, he’s momentarily speechless. When your thumb rubs against the hard line of his hip bone, drawing a shudder, he jerks back into motion.

“Oh my god, you—” he’s dazed before he narrows his eyes at you, voice dropping to a whisper that’s somewhat tinged with hurt. “Are you teasing me?”

You manage to hold back the laugh but can’t help the smile that rises at his words. “I always get the urge to tease you, Jungkook, but it’s not to be cruel.” You lean forward, holding his gaze. “I probably never grew out of that kindergarten stage.”

It takes a second for what you said to sink in. The way that hope enters his eyes is so cute that you’re humiliated at the urge to squeal that rises. “So, you…”

It’s embarrassing to say the words out loud, especially considering the filth running through your mind right now, and you can’t quite bring yourself to. Teasingly, you bring your other hand to his thigh, brushing the edge of the skirt with your thumb and enjoying the way he shivers. “It’s embarrassing to say out loud, so if you want to hear it, you’re gonna have to work for it.”

The soft, excited gasp he lets out emboldens you to carry out your next action— you move the hand on his hip, brushing your fingertips up the side of his slim waist before bringing them back down to rest over his crotch.

To your complete and utter surprise, there is already some firmness there that greets you. At your curious gaze, he flushes pink.

“It’s the skirt,” he confesses, averting his gaze to your lap for the briefest second. “You look really good in it…”

Not that your ego needs more stroking, but you’re happy to let it happen anyway. You hum, beginning to move your hand— he stifles a gasp.

“I know,” you say, grinning. It’s ridiculous how your stomach flips, arousal beginning to trickle into your abdomen and ache in the apex of your thighs. “I could feel you looking at me. I caught you a few times, too.”

He’s embarrassed, you can tell, but the current situation doesn’t leave much room for dignity as it is anyway. Still, you can’t help but tease him some more, voice soft as you rub over his growing bulge and lean closer. “Do you always look at me, Jungkook?”

He squirms, a gasp slipping out before he attempts to send you a glare. “This is embarrassing,” he whines. You raise a brow, increasing the pressure of your hand, and he is quick to amend his response in a whisper, “…Yes.”

“And what do you imagine, when you look at me?” you ask, unable to deny the thrill running through your veins and lighting heat in your abdomen. You pause your ministrations only to move your hand to the top of his skirt and slip beneath the material. This time a moan slips out before he can stop it. “Is it things like this?”

He lets his head fall back against the wall, looking at you through hazy, lidded eyes. “Yes,” he admits, and for how readily he supplied the answer you reward him by slipping your hand beneath the rest of the layers over his hips and wrapping your fingers around his hardening length.

He whines— actually whines— and rolls his hips into your hand, thick thigh tensing beneath the grip of your other hand. The resulting wash of arousal that floods over you is so sudden it almost makes you dizzy.

“Oh, you’re a good boy,” you mutter it without much thought, but surprise filters through you when you feel his length twitch and flush with heat in your hold at the words. Ah— he likes a bit of praise, does he? You slide your free hand up his thigh, working the waistband of his skirt and bike shorts down until they rest just past the beginning of his thighs. It’s like you’re looking at a work of art, you marvel slightly— the curls that begin to trail down a little below his belly button, the sculpted line of his hip bones and the hints of his abs that show as his body tenses. You’re just one woman.

“Does it feel as good as you imagined, Jungkook?” you aimed to speak louder but it comes out sort of breathy. You trail your fingers down the tan skin of his abdomen before gripping the material of his bottoms and using the moment to free his length.

If you didn’t have such a firm grip on it, you know it would have sprung back against his stomach— you try not to let your surprise show, either, because you could feel that he was packing, but seeing it is another thing and your stomach flips in giddy anticipation. Jungkook’s chest heaves as his breath quickens, eyes boring into you and hands bunching in the material of the punishment skirt. You stroke your hand along his length, pressing your thumb along the underside and relishing in the shudder it elicits.

“y/n,” he whines softly, face flushing as his cock twitches in your hold. Whether he’s forgotten you even asked a question or simply is too overwhelmed to answer right now, you don’t know.

As for how you’re doing— you’re so turned on right now that in all honesty you don’t know what to do with yourself. A solution comes to mind quickly and you don’t have the usual self control you do to stop yourself.

Mindful of his injured leg, you rise, keeping your grip on him as you do so. His lidded gaze follows you, soft gasps escaping him all the while.

“Give me your leg,” you instruct, relishing how quickly he listens. Presented with his thigh, you swing one of your legs over the other side of the bench and rest on it so that as little weight as possible is on his bad leg, your knees brushing his hips. As soon as you’re lowered, you can’t help but gasp and roll your hips— the only thing separating you and the smooth skin and hard muscle of his thigh is the thin layer of your damp panties, and the stimulation on your clit makes your entire core throb in arousal.

Apparently this is also one of the things he’s imagined, because Jungkook lets out a low, gasping moan and rolls his hips up into your hand— which, of course, makes his thigh muscles tense and shift, rubbing oh so nicely against your clit. You almost fall off from the jolt of pleasure that shoots up your spine, free hand shooting to grab his bicep, “Ah, Jungkook!”

He apparently has the sense of mind to support you by using the arm in your hold to reach and grip your hip. Generous amounts of precum have started to bead at his tip, and you drag your hand up his girth, collecting it on your thumb and smearing it down his length for lubrication. It elicits a whine, another roll of his hips, and like that you settle into a rhythm of sorts.

“y/n.” Each gasp and moan he lets out have to be specially designed to ruin you, you decide. He seeks your gaze with hazy, lust-ridden eyes. “Please kiss me.”

It’s a brazen request coming from him of all people, and you’re all too happy to oblige. You lean forward, the rock of your hips making you shudder, and connect his lips with your own— he’d sought your kiss as you did so, craning his neck forward and awaiting your lips. It’s a heated kiss from the beginning, given the situation— you don’t fight for dominance so much as assume it from the start. Each press of your tongue, graze of your teeth, has a new sound tumbling from his throat and into your mouth. It makes your heart race even harder than it already was.

It doesn’t take long for tension to begin to build in your abdomen, and you know if you’re already feeling it then he must be even closer. Not wanting this to end just yet, you force yourself to slow your hand down, breaking the kiss and shifting to press your mouth to his neck.

“Wh-what—” he gasps, shuddering as your thumb plays with his slit, rhythm slowed to a stop. Both of you are panting, almost, and you suckle a mark into the junction of his neck before pulling back with a grin.

“Surely that isn’t all you’ve imagined, Jungkook.” You lean forward, pressing a brief kiss to his mouth before pulling back— the way he chases your lips makes your heart squeeze. “What now? Be a good boy, tell me.”

Far from being embarrassed at this point and all but a slave to the haze of lust in the air, Jungkook’s breath hitches and he responds, somewhat tentative if anything, “… ride me.”

“Good boy,” you breathe, offering him a proud smile. He preens beneath your fond look.

You shift, and you think that he must have expected you to stand up fully and remove your clothes, or at least your bottoms, but to his surprise you simply shuffle up and reach beneath your skirt, slipping your panties aside and aligning his member with your entrance. You’re so turned on that you’ve soaked through your underwear, and you know you’ve smeared enough precum along his length that lubrication will be no problem. So you simply lower yourself down until his head parts your lips and begins to sink into you.

At the sheer size of him even as just the tip enters your cunt, you have to halt, gasping, “Fuck!”

If he wanted to respond, you don’t really give him time to; as soon as you get your bearings you continue sinking down onto him. There is a slight burn, of course, but you’re so turned on that it fades quicker than you can register. The sensation of him, the throb, his girth and the way he splits your walls, stretching you more and more as you seat yourself on him— it’s indescribable, and all you can offer is that it feels so good you swear tears are gonna prick at your eyes. From the look on his face, brows scrunched and mouth parted as a long, low groan slips out, you know it must feel just as good for him.

When the back of your thighs press against the top of his his and he’s fully sheathed in you, you feel like you’re about to lose your mind— this position has him so deep in your pussy that with each miniscule shift the tip of his cock presses against a spot that sends delicious jolts of pleasure up your spine. Honestly, if you weren’t so intent on seeing this through, you think you could cum from that sensation alone.

Even as you’re in a mess of pleasure and a haze of desire, you can’t help but tease him some more. You clench your insides, rolling your hips— the sharp, lilting moan he lets out makes your stomach flip. “What now, baby boy?”

You hold his hips down with your hand, feeling them twitch with the urge to rock up into you. A long, drawn groan escapes him. “Do you want to see me? More of me? Or do you want to feel me?”

You take his hand into your hold and guide it up to your chest, slipping it beneath your shirt and bra to cup your breast. His breath hitches, lashes fluttering against his cheekbones as he blinks and attempts to clear the haze from his vision. You relish in the control you have over him until his thumb brushes your nipple and he pinches it, tweaking it instinctively. A moan tears from you, the shock of pleasure that results making you clench around him again; his free hand scrambles for purchase against your thigh, fingers digging in as pleasure washes over him in turn.

Your breath is coming a little faster now. Leaving his hand at your chest, you move it to drag up his neck before threading your fingers in the damp curls at the back of his neck. Finding a firm grip, you tug his head back ever so lightly— it elicits a new moan that you haven’t heard yet, and you really begin to think this boy will be your undoing.

“What do you want?” you ask again, rolling your hips once more. It isn’t fair of you, you know, since you can hardly think yourself from the sensations. “You want me to move, baby boy?”

He nods, attempting to speak through the moan caught in his throat. “Please… fuck me, y/n.”

Well, who are you to say no to that?

Happy to oblige, you engage your thighs and begin to rise— the sensation of him dragging against your walls makes both of you gasp, and you almost falter in your movements from the feeling alone. Gathering your wits as best as you can, you continue your movements, successfully rising and then seating yourself once more. Unable to withhold much longer, you roll your hips and begin to set the two of you into a rhythm.

You stopped paying heed to the noises escaping you a while ago, but you don’t doubt that the sinful sounds tumbling from Jungkook’s mouth as you ride him are a large contributor to the way the tension in your abdomen quickly begins to knot and bundle once more.

Even with as heavenly as it feels, it’s hard to keep up momentum when your thighs begin to burn. Thankfully, Jungkook has more than enough stamina in his thigh muscles for the both of you, and when he senses your fatigue, he brings his grip to your hips to hold them in place before rocking his own up and beginning to fuck up into you.

Needless to say, the pace he sets is much faster and much harder than the one you had. Swears tumble softly from your mouth at the change in intensity of pleasure as it shoots through you, orgasm already approaching much faster than anticipated. Your hands come to grip his on your hips with a cry of his name, knees turning to jelly.

Movement against your hand surprises you, but not as much as the sensation of Jungkook’s hand shifting to thread his fingers with yours. You honestly feel your heart burst, and as he fucks up into you that bit harder you can’t help the way you clutch his hand like a lifeline, the sweet moment quick to pass but most definitely not forgotten.

“G-gonna cum,” you gasp, eyes closing and allowing the slap of skin and Jungkook’s gasping moans to overtake your senses. You don’t forget to indulge him in some praise. “Such a g-good boy, making me feel so g-good.”

He whines at your words, and right as your pleasure approaches its peak you feel his hips stutter and slam up into yours harder than all the times before. The stimulation of that spot deep inside of you is all that’s needed to push you into the throes of your orgasm, and it washes over you more intensely than you’ve ever felt before as you clench and tense with a cry of his name.

Distantly, you feel his own grip on you tighten, and his hips still as they’re pressed against yours. Warmth floods your core, cock throbbing as he empties inside you, and you swear you hear the softest of confessions uttered to the air as he joins you in your high.

He comes down before you do, although you’re not far behind him, and for a moment you sit in place, panting and attempting to come back to your senses. He’s softened inside you slightly, but when you shift and clench on instinct as you do so, feeling cum slide down your thighs, he twitches and throbs inside you.

Taken aback, your gaze whips to him and now that his shame has returned to him, he has the decency to blush. Well, apparently Jeon Jungkook’s stamina really is no joke. Maybe he really was born to be an athlete.

“Greedy. You want more?” There’s a teasing lilt to your voice, and a thrilling mix of fear and excitement dances in his eyes.

“y/n—” he rasps, desperate. You slide off of him, making both of you groan, but return to your previous position on his thigh. He moans as he feels his own cum leak out of you and onto his skin. When your hand comes to wrap around his slick member, he jolts and whines.

“You wanna tell me what you said just before?” you ask, beginning to twist your wrist and stroke his cock ever so slowly. He shakes his head, whether at your question or the overstimulation, you’re not sure— you know it’s probably a bit of both though, considering he twitches in your hold.

“‘S embarrassing,” he murmurs, back arching as you increase your pace just a little. “Ah, y/n!”

“I see. You know, I think I can get you to cum again,” you say, changing tactics.

Jungkook shakes his head, strands of his raven hair plastered to his forehead in sweat. “I can’t—”

“You should tell me,” you say, teasing lilt to your tone. He whines, rocking his hips into and then away from the sensations.

When he shakes his head again, letting it fall back against the wall and baring the column of his throat to you, you jump on his acceptance of the situation. You pick up speed, rolling your wrist and moving in tune with the shifting of his body. It doesn’t take very long before his oversensitivity throws him into another orgasm, stronger than the last but dryer. The few beads of cum that escape seem ever so tantalising as they roll down his length, drawing your gaze.

“You gonna tell me now?” you ask, already knowing the answer. Jungkook slumps against the wall, breathing heavy and sweat glistening on his golden skin. He looks at you through heavily lidded eyes.

“It’s still embarrassing,” he whines, breathy in his exertion.

Right, well. You know what he said, but you want to hear him say it with his own mouth once more and you’ll stay here all night to make that happen if you need to.

Of course, it’s not until a while and another heated moment or two later that Jungkook realises this and gives in.

His confession is so much sweeter on your ears the second time, and of course, as promised, you reward him with your own. It’s worth it for the way it makes his eyes shine, you think.

Jeon Jungkook really has you well and truly whipped.

a/n: thank u for reading and i hope u liked it! im super excited to have completed my first commission and would really appreciate it if u let me know what u think by sending me an ask and liking & rbing this with ur thoughts!! i read & appreciate everything!! thank u !! love u !! peace out !! :D

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Transfer

Troy Bolton x Reader

Words: 4064

Summary: Moving schools isn’t easy. Moving to the rival school… Start of something new? Or complete disaster.

Notes: I will stop writing for Troy when my love for him ceases… so never. (This is another one that is going to deal with bullying, even more so than the last one, so if that makes you uncomfortable, feel free to move along)

Warnings: Cyber bullying, angst

Nobody knew. That’s what you had to keep telling yourself. Nobody knew you or anything that had happened. Granted, that also meant you didn’t know anyone either. Strangers passed you without a second glance. This was good. If nobody noticed you, they wouldn’t attack. If you stayed invisible, you stayed safe.

“Hey Chad, over here!” You were so busy looking at your new schedule that you didn’t see the basketball hurtling towards you. The ball hit you square in the chest, knocking the wind out of you and causing you to drop your books. “Oh gosh, I am so so so sorry.”

A boy crouched down in front of you, trying to gather up your papers before they were swept away under his classmates’ shuffling feet.

“It’s okay,” You gasped, stilling trying to catch your breath. He helped pick up the last of your things and held out his hand to help you up.

“I’m Troy.” He gave you a smile that would have made the entire cheer squad at West High swoon. You took his hand, feeling the blush on your cheeks.

“Y/N.” So much for staying invisible.

“Are you okay? That sounded like it hurt.” The apologetic puppy face was almost as cute as his smile.

“I’ll be fine. I probably should have been paying more attention.” You laughed nervously.

“And I should have caught the ball.” As he handed your things back to you, he caught a glimpse of your schedule. “Hey, you have Mrs. Darbus for homeroom!”

“Um, yeah, I was trying to find her room.” You anxiously tucked a hair behind your ear.

“I can show you.” He offered, that gorgeous smile returning. “My friends and I have her too.”

“Drop something?” A blonde girl wearing the pinkest jacket you had ever seen held out Troy’s basketball. His smile strained.

“Thanks Sharpay.” Her vicious gaze turned on you.

“And who are you?” And here you thought all the scary girls went to West High.

“I-uh-I’m-” You stuttered. Troy came to the rescue.

“Look at the time! We’re all going to be late for homeroom if we don’t hurry.” He quickly ushered you away from Sharpay, helping you steer through the herd of students to Mrs. Darbus’ room.

“Who was that?’ You whispered as seats started to fill up.

“That was Sharpay Evans. The evil queen of East High. Just stay off her bad side and you should be fine.” He shuttered, grabbing his usual desk. All the seats around Troy were filled so you picked an empty desk in the back row. The scary blonde, along with a few other late comers got in the door just as the bell rang.

“Troy, pass it.” One of the guys held out his hand. Troy threw him the basketball and he proceeded to spin the ball on his finger. “You ready for the game?” He grinned.

“Are you kidding? The Knights are so going down.” Troy made a hoop with his arms and his friend tossed the ball in. The room pretended to cheer and you couldn’t help but smile at the antics. Your teacher wasn’t as amused.

“Mr Danforth, Mr. Bolton, it seems you’ve lost your way to the court. This is a classroom. I will be seeing you two superstars-”

“In detention.” They finished grimly.

“You must be new.” The girl next to you whispered. “She had gorgeous brown hair and a kind smile. “I know how you feel. I moved here last year. I’m Gabriella.”

“I’m Y/N.” Your cell phone buzzed in your pocket. You opened up your messages, feeling that awful icy dread that you had tried to get away from.

“Miss Y/L/N, correct?” Mrs. Darbus stood over you, holding a bucket.

“Y-yes.”

“While your former school may have allowed electronics, I certainly do not.” She motioned to your phone. You slumped in your chair and dropped it into the bucket.

“Sorry ma’am.”

“Not to worry I’m sure you’ll make plenty of new friends in detention.” She returned to the front of the room. You didn’t dare argue, burying your face in your hands with a sigh. You felt the words of the message resonate in your head.

You can run. But you can’t hide.

Detention didn’t seem so bad. You mostly just had to help paint sets for the end of the year one-act. You had your face buried behind a picket fence when a pair of blue eyes peaked at you between the boards.

“Need some help?” Troy offered, leaning over the fence.

“Be careful of the paint!” You exclaimed before his hands got covered. You swiped your arm across your forehead and Troy started to snicker. “What?”

“You’ve got a little…” He motioned to the spot above your eyebrow. Horrified, you scrambled to find a rag to clean off the paint. Troy laughed, but not in a mocking way. You couldn’t help but laugh with him. How long had it been since you laughed with someone? Let alone an outrageously cute guy?

“I meant to say thanks earlier, for helping me find Mrs. Darbus’ class.” You said, getting back to work on the fence.

“It’s the least I could do after missing the ball.” He sat down next to you and grabbed a brush to help.

You heard an outburst of laughter from across the stage and winced. You whirled your head around and saw a group of students messing around with funny looking masks from the costume trunk. You exhaled slowly to calm down. They weren’t laughing at you.

“You okay?” Troy wondered, noticing your sudden change in demeanor. You forced a smile and said your well rehearsed line.

“I’m fine.”

For the first time, somebody saw through it. Troy may not have given any indication, but he could tell that something had upset you. He just nodded and smiled.

“Are you coming to the game this weekend?” He changed the topic excitedly, hoping to distract you from whatever had made you upset.

“I don’t know yet.” You sighed. “I have a lot to catch up on and stuff to set up.” His face fell into that adorable pout and you just couldn’t say no. “I can try and squeeze it in.” His eyes lit up.

“Great!” Through his excitement, a slightly shy smile crept onto his lips. “I was kind of hoping that you’d want to get a pizza or something after the game?”

You tried to keep your jaw from dropping.

“Are you… asking me out?” You gasped. He grinned.

“Yeah. I guess I am.” His fingers brushed against yours as both reached for the paint. You blushed.

“Then, um, yeah. I’d love to go out with you after the game.” You were smiling brighter than you had in a long time, but still, a little voice in your head was telling you this was a bad idea. Stay invisible. Stay invisible.

“Awesome.” Troy was beaming, making that little voice of doubt disappear. “I promise, I play much better than what you saw in the hall.” You both laughed. Wow he has a nice laugh.

Mrs. Darbus announced that the time was up and that all prisoners of detention were free to go. Honestly, you were kind bummed. With Troy helping you with the fence, you were actually having a good time. You had a skp in your step as you walked home.

“Hi mom! Hi dad!” You greeted, snatching an apple for a snack. Your mom’s voice called from the backyard.

“Hey! How was your first day?” She was elbows deep in tulip bulbs even though it was late January. Then again, you were in New Mexico.

“Really god, actually.” You grinned. “I met some really nice people and got invited to the basketball game this weekend.”

“Woah, what happened to laying low for a while?” She rubbed the dirt off her hands on her apron. Her usual perky cheerleader smile was gone, replaced by a glare of concern. “You know the basketball game is against West High, don’t you?”

“I-” You hadn’t thought about that. Trying to seem confident, you crossed your arms. “I can’t hide forever, mom.”

“Those girls are going to be there.” She said, putting her hands on her hips. “Wouldn’t it be better to just stay home and not drag out the skeletons in your closet?”

“They’re just cheerleaders, mom! They aren’t hitmen.” You exclaimed. You knew that this was more about protecting her pride than your own.

“Yeah, well, you used to be one of them and look how that turned out.” the disappointed stare she gave you hurt, but you tried not to show it.

“I'm going to the game and I'm going out for pizza afterwards with one of my new friends.”

“Is that new friend a boy?” She spat. You ignored her.

“I’m going whether that fits your little ‘laying low’ plan or not.” You stormed off, but not before you heard her muttering under her breath.

“Haven’t you humiliated me enough?”

The next day, you walked with your head down. Your mother’s pessimism had definitely brought your sunny mood back down to earth. Leave it to her to ruin the one good thing you’d had in months. Your attempts to disappear worked well for the fist two periods. Nobody even noticed that you were there.

Of course, that only lasted until Gabriella spotted you. The bubbly brunette was quick to join you while you tried to navigate your way to your next class.

“I heard you’re going to the basketball game!” She said excitedly. “I didn’t think I was much of a sports person, but the school spirit here makes everything exciting.”

“Yeah, I'm not sure.” You shrugged. After all, half of your classmates from West High would be there, including the girls that started all this. Rob would be on the court, playing against Troy. Oh no.

“Well you are welcome to come with me and Taylor. We’re going to have a movie night afterwards, too.”

“I’m- uh- I’m supposed to be grabbing dinner with Troy after the game.” You muttered, the excitement of the date having faded into dread.

“You have a date with Troy Bolton?” A shrill voice joined the conversation, stopping you in your tracks. The terrifying blonde was giving you an icy cold stare. “That was quick.”

“I think it's sweet.” Gabriella countered. She gave you a smirk. “Who knows? Maybe it was love at first sight.” Your eyes fell to the tiled floor.

“I think he was just being nice.” Your grim tone made her give you a look of concern. Sharpay smiled sarcastically.

“Well isn’t that just like our Troy?” Her sneer made her annoyance very clear. She put her hands on her hips and began a deeper interrogation. “You’re from West High, aren’t you?” Before you could even answer, she continued. “Won’t that be awkward, coming to the basketball game? Why did you transfer? It’s a little weird, right? Transferring a month into the semester?”

“Okay!” Gabriella exclaimed. “I think it’s time we all get to class, don’t you think?” Sherpa was clearly irked by the interruption and tossed her hair over shoulder.

“I guess I’ll just see you both at the game.” She strutted away and you exhaled the breath you had been holding.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t worry about her.” Gabriella shrugged. “Sharpay is usually all bark and no bite.”

“Somehow, I find that hard to believe.” You said to yourself.

After third period, it was time for lunch. You found the same empty table that you sat at the day before. You were used to eating alone by now.

Somewhere in the lunchroom, a phone dinged, followed by laughter. You flinched, waiting for the taunting to start. Like before, however, they weren’t really laughing at you. Keeping your head low, you tuned out the loud chatter of the cafeteria. For a while, it really felt like you were invisible. Invisible and alone.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up and found Troy giving you a sweet smile. You shrugged in reply and he took that as confirmation that something was wrong. He sat down beside you as you toyed with the green beans on your plate.

“Gabriella told me about Sharpay. She said you seemed pretty upset.” His words only elicited another shrug. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it, but I’m here if you do.”

“I can’t go to the game.” You blurted.

“What? Why?”

“I just can’t, Troy.” You kept your face down, so he couldn’t see your tears. “I can’t go out with you either.”

“Y/N, if I said something wrong-”

“Can’t you see I’m doing you a favor?” You slammed your hand down on the table and you finally looked up to see his hurt expression. You almost took it back. Then your phone buzzed ominously and you grabbed your backpack. “I’m really sorry, Troy. But if they saw us together, if they thought I was happy-”

“Who are you talking about?” He was worried now. “Who’s they?”

“Forget I said anything and just… forget me.” Clutching your phone in a tight fist, you ran out of the cafeteria.

You weren’t sure if Troy followed you or not as you sprinted down the halls of East High. You didn’t read the text until you got out to the parking lot. There weren’t any words. Just that stupid video.

It was the cheer squad’s Christmas party. There had been some tension between you and the other girls, but you hadn’t thought much of it. ‘Girls as close as you are bicker.’ your mom had said. So you went to the party.

Amber, the cheer captain and your supposed best friend, told you that Rob Mannington wanted to talk to you. She knew how much of a crush you had on him. Problem was, so did she.

When you found Rob, you thought the two of you were alone. He took off your jacket and said a bunch of sweet things as he leaned in for a kiss.

“I can’t do this.” He burst out laughing, pushing you away. Other girls from the cheer squad appeared, cackling like a bunch of Prada clad hyenas. Hurt and humiliated, you ran.

After that, it just got worse. Text messages, online harassment, and eventually, someone took a picture in the locker room and posted it all around the school. Your mother immediately had you transfer to East High. She was ashamed of you and blamed you for the loss of her social status. She didn't care that you lost everything.

You let out a frustrated and hopeless scream and threw your phone as hard as you could against the concrete. The device broke apart and you stared at it. It wasn’t until you felt a gentle hand on your shoulder that you let yourself cry.

You turned around and were in Troy’s embrace without objection. You let this sweet and caring boy hold you tight while you sobbed. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. He was just there.

“Wow.” Troy blew out a long breathing, running his fingers through his hair. “And these were your friends?”

“I thought they were.” You sighed, wiping a fallen tear off your cheek.

After your break down at lunch, Troy told you to meet him for homeroom. He told Mrs. Darbus that you were going through some stuff and needed a friend. So he brought you to his favorite spot in the whole school; the roof. And you told him everything. It was the first time that you’d really talked about what happened with anyone and it was nice to get it off your chest.

“I’m really sorry that happened to you.” Troy put his hand on top of yours. “And I totally understand if you don’t want to come to the game. What those West High kids did… I can’t imagine what it was like.”

“I felt like my whole life- all the cheerleading camps, the coaching from my perfect mother, kissing up to every spoiled girl with pom poms- it all meant nothing.” You were quiet for a moment, Troy’s thumb gently rubbing the back of your hand. With a deep breath and your head held high, you made your decision. “I’m going to that game.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to get thrown back into everything because of me.” The concern in his voice was more than either of your parents had shown. You gave him a small, but confident smile.

“No. I’m tired of hiding from them. I’m done being invisible.” With your new confidence, you leaned over and kiss his cheek.

Troy’s face turned a light shade of pink as he grinned.

“What was that for?’ He wondered sheepishly. Your smile was sincere.

“For being the first real friend I’ve had in seventeen years.” You leaned your head on his shoulder and he entwined his fingers with yours. You had only known him for two days, but he already seemed to understand you better than anybody else in your life.

He turned slightly and pressed his lips on top of your hair, lingering there for a moment. Troy couldn’t understand his own feelings, but after less than 48 hours, you seemed to have won over the basketball captain’s heart.

You couldn’t hide that you were nervous. From the sounds of it, the gym was already pretty full. Even from outside the doors, you could hear the West High cheer section warming up. Gabriella gave you an encouraging smile to try and calm your nerves.

“Remember, there is always plan B.” She said, reminding you of the message Troy had sent earlier.

I can’t wait to see you in the stands tonight! Don’t forget you can alway sleeve if you need to. Gabriella is all set for an emergency escape. Look for #14. I’ll see you then!

You wished he was with you, but he belonged with his team. You could do this. Rob, Amber, the other cheerleaders; none of them mattered anymore. They could taunt you all they wanted, but you weren’t alone. Besides, watching the Wildcats whoop the Knights would be the perfect way to leave them all behind.

Gabriella grabbed your hand and navigated through the crowd to get inside. The air was buzzing with excitement and you let the energy charge through you. When Amber’s eagle eyes spotted you, you just kept walking.

After finding a good spot in the student section, you waited s the time ticked by. The gym was filling up, but you could still see Amber whispering to the other girls and pointing in your direction. You inhaled sharply and looked away, feeling the panic begin to resurface.

“Look, there he is.” Gabriella was almost drowned out by the cheering crowd as the Wildcats ran onto the court. Sure enough, at the front of the pack of jerseys was #14. As the team warmed up, he scanned the crowd. He shot the ball into the hoop and gave you a big grin.

Then entered the Knights. When you spotted Rob, you didn't feel those school-girl butterflies you used to get whenever you saw him. Now you were just angry. You were just a joke to him. Before you could look away, he saw you. With a smirk, he made a basket.

Troy noticed the change in your expression and followed your gaze to the cocky player across the court. He felt a rush of defensive determination. He would make sure that the boy who broke your heart wouldn’t be making any points tonight.

The game started off well for the Knights, with a basket and two foul throws. Their cheerleaders yelled and shook their pom-poms. You couldn’t help but feel like Amber’s sporty sneers were meant for you.

Rob had stolen the ball and was sprinting towards the hoop. He threw it to one of his teammates, but a flash of red cut in between them. The crowd roared as Troy made it down the court for a basket.

“Yeah Troy!” You shouted. Rob must have picked out your voice because he sent a furious glare in your direction. You just smiled.

It was almost half time and the score was tied. Troy was guarding Rob as he dribbled down the court.

“So Y/N’s your groupie too, huh Bolton?” He snapped. Troy tensed.

“Just play the game, Mannington.”

“You know, I almost regretted rejecting her like that…” he smirked, “after that picture came out.” With Troy seething, he shoulder checked him out of the way and passed the ball for his teammate to score. The buzzer went off.

“That marks halftime here folks; Wildcats 22, Knights 24.”

East High fans breathed a collective sigh as the teams made their way into the locker rooms.

“What’s wrong with Troy?” Gabriella wondered. You watched him storm angrily into the locker room, his whole body shaking furiously. Whatever Rob had said had set him off and a deep fear settled in your head.

What did Rob tell him?

You bit your lip anxiously. If Troy made this free throw, they would tie the score again.

“Come on Troy.” You uttered.

He took a few deep breaths and quickly glanced up at you. He had to make this. He inhaled slowly and dedicated his focus to the hoop ahead of him. As he exhaled, he made the shot. As the ball swished in the net, the fans cheered loudly.

Now it was the Knights’ ball and with less than a minute on the clock, it was a mad dash to stay out of overtime. Rob was going in for the shot. He planted his feet and tossed the ball. It seemed like the whole gym was holding its breath.

The ball just bounced off of the rim and Troy snatched it out of the air, earning a chorus of cheers from the crowd. He passed the ball to Zeke who bounded to the basket and dunked the ball for the winning points.

The buzzer was lost in the shouts from his team and from the ecstatic fans. Disappointed West High fans started to file out of the gym while East High students and families flooded the court. Troy was pulled into a crushing hug by his parents, his eyes searching the faces of people nearby. It took him awhile to find you, but he wasn’t the only one.

“Rob told me that you found a new guy to creep on.” Amber laughed. “The captain of the basketball team? Really, Y/N, don’t you think that’s aiming a little high? You don’t really think that dreamboat Troy Bolton would be interested in someone like you?” Troy, hearing the conversation, stepped in.

“Hey are you ready to go?” He put a hand on your arm affectionately. Startled by his sudden appearance, you just nodded. “Great! I’m going to go shower and I’ll be back out soon.” He looked at Amber. “Can you believe it? This amazing girl transfers to East High and she agrees to go out with me. I must be crazy lucky or something, I know.”

Baffled, Amber stomped off to find her posse. You just look at Troy, stunned. Was he just saying all that to get her to go away? As if he read your mind, he took your hand in his and brought it up to his lips.

“I meant it.” He said and you got lost in his sincere eyes.”I am super lucky that you wound up at East High. That I found you.” A grin spread across his face. “And I am very excited for our date.”

“Oh, so we are officially calling it a date?” You teased. He laughed.

“That’s what I was hoping for yeah.” You paused, your smile dropping a little.

“Troy, what did Rob say to you just before half time?” You waited for him to say some rumor that had been spread from your school. Something awful that he would never forgive you for. Troy just smiled and shook his head.

“Nothing important.” He thought for a moment before quickly kissing your cheek. When he stepped back, you were beaming. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.” He started to push through the people around you. “And Troy?”

“Yeah?” His smile could have knocked you off your feet.

“I’m lucky I found you too.”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

#troy bolton x reader #WHAT TEAM?#WILD CATS #zac efron #high school musical #getcha head in the game #troy bolton #disney imagines #childhood #living out my childhood #sorry not sorry

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jimlingss · 4 years ago

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Sugar and Coffee [22]

Chapter 21 - Chapter 22 - Chapter 22.5 OR Chapter 23 [Finale]

➜ Words: 4k

➜ Genres: 99.5% Fluff, 0.5% Angst, Pâtisserie school!AU

➜ Summary: It isn't hard to be a pâtisserie chef, but it's not a piece of cake either. It seems like for you in particular, life keeps throwing in one wrench after another. It always finds ways to make your sweets bitter. The cherry on top is Jeon Jungkook — a rival with a sensitive sweet tooth who always finds ways to complain about you.

There’s quite a few things that you hate. You like to say you’re a somewhat well-mannered individual who wouldn’t use such a strong word, such as hate, to describe objects, people, and things in general. But there’s a number of things that just absolutely grind your gears. One of such examples are small spoons used to eat ice-cream or crème brûlée where you can never get a satisfying mouthful. And another is— “Fuck this yeast. Seriously.” “Hey, what did yeast ever do to you?” Jungkook laughs, finding your rage all the more amusing. “It won’t foam up.” You tap the measuring cup with a long sigh. Sure, the mixture is bubbling, but it’s nowhere near as good as you want it to be. “It’s been five minutes too.” “Did you put in sugar to feed it?” You scoff. “Who do you take me for?” You hate making bread, hate making laminated dough, hate anything that has to yeast. It’s just horrible to work with and you don’t understand how anyone can like bread in the first place. No one can eat bread on its own. It’s bland as hell. It’s boring. But aside from your personal vendetta, it just didn’t make sense — you and Jungkook have the same dry active yeast but when he proofs it, it’s perfect. You wonder if these tiny organisms hate you. “I hate yeast and bread and everything to do with it.” “Quit whining.” While Jungkook brushes past you, he taps your bottom. “Less complaining, more working.” “Easy for you to say.” Jungkook continues the recipe. He whisks together three tablespoons sugar, a tablespoon of salt, and three cups flour. In the meanwhile, you stand there, tapping your glass and wondering if you have to re-do the entire process. But then another thought comes into mind. And you slyly switch yours with Jungkook’s. “Whatever, we’ll see what happens.” You clear your throat, discreetly shifting past him to grab the salt. “Who knows, it might end up fermenting properly,” he says and a noncommittal sound is made at the back of your throat. Quickly, you make your dry mixture and pour the yeast in with some oil. It forms into a soft dough, bouncy to the touch, and just the right texture. At the same time, Jungkook returns to grab the yeast and immediately frowns. “What the fuck is wrong with my yeast.” He brings it up to eye level, frowning. You shrug. “Yeast is finicky. Was your water too hot when you poured it in? Might’ve killed it.” “But it was fine befor—” Jungkook’s voice halts. His eyes dim. He redirects his gaze towards you and deadpans, “You switched it, didn’t you?” “What?” You laugh. “No, I didn’t.” It’s frightening how he figured it out in an instant. You ponder just how much Jungkook can see right through you. “You took it, didn’t you?!” Your boyfriend playfully throws his arm around your neck and pins you under his armpit in a choke hold. You giggle, grabbing onto his forearm. “I didn’t!” “You’re still trying to lie to me now, brat? I expected better from you!” He laughs and you squeal. “Jungkook!” Finally, he lets go of you, but not before huffing out in frustration. You’re unable to recover when he ruffles your hair roughly, disheveling your entire head and sighing again. “Now I have to re-do mine.” You pout, watching him grab the container of dry active yeast. “I have to make sure my bread rises.” He smiles softly. “So now you admit stealing from me?” You dust off the flour from your hands and approach slowly. When the opportunity is right, you grab Jungkook’s arm and loll your head to one side, fluttering your lashes. “You wouldn’t be upset with your wonderful girlfriend, right, Kookie?” “Don’t try to act cute with me.” You lean against him. “I’m not. I just love you.” Jungkook scoffs, but a tiny smile still lifts on his features. The corner of his mouth is timidly quirked and you know you’ve won. The dough is kneaded until it’s elastic. Then the bowl is covered with a damp cloth and put in a warm place where it rises for an hour and a half. Afterwards, you punch the dough down on a lightly floured counter, shape it, and bake it in greased loaf pans. For hating everything yeast, you must admit that the smell of fresh bread filling the kitchen is mouthwatering. “It rose!” You peek through the oven in its last minutes, observing the way the crust is turning golden brown. “It looks so good.” Jungkook looks over your shoulder. “Not bad. We’re going to have to do it again though. Or at least you do.” “What?” The oven closes and you whirl around. “Why?” “You can’t use my yeast during our exams.” Your boyfriend’s expression is impassive and you open your mouth to retort, but end up closing it. There’s no way you can argue against that. “Ugh!” Your feet stamp childishly. “But I hate it!” He smirks and brushes past you. “Should’ve done it right in the first place.” “Shut up, Jeon.” The scent of bread baking in the oven only serves to mock you now. Jungkook tears his teeth into his bread, having lightly buttered it before eating. It’s still steaming hot and looks soft inside. You’re jealous, but also thankful when he stays around and watches you try a second batch all on your own without stealing any of his yeast. “Too much salt or sugar could slow down the yeast,” Jungkook says. “If the water is too hot, you’ll kill it. If it’s too cold, it won’t activate.” You sigh. “Why is it so difficult?” “It isn’t. Just keep trying. The best upcoming pâtisserie chef isn’t going to give up on something as simple as bread, right?” Your boyfriend smiles when he sees you can’t even feign a pout, that your mouth twitches at the compliment. Motivation flares through you. “That’s right.” You check water twice, ensuring that it’s the perfect amount of warmness and after you add the godforsaken yeast, you measure out sugar carefully. There’s little agitation before you set up a stool to watch it move. You pray these microbes will do your efforts justice, that they’ll release their carbon dioxide and ethanol, that they’ll bubble and ferment and make your dough rise later on. “Are you going to sit there and watch it?” “Shush,” you hiss at Jungkook as if the yeast could be scared to death. He smiles, plops a kiss at the top of your head and walks away to clean up his pans and bowls. In the meantime, you wait for five minutes, and then another two just to make sure. By then, it’s bubbling. “Is this good?” You bring it to Jungkook, not sure anymore. He peers inside the bowl. “Looks okay to me.” “Then I did it!” You throw yourself at him for a big hug and the yeast mixture nearly sloshes above the rim of the bowl onto the ground. “We can go now, right?” Jungkook snorts. “You still need to make the bread, sweetheart.” You pout. It’s such a pain. But it’s worth it when dough rises, the bread bakes perfectly in the oven, and Jungkook claps for you. When all is said and done, you feel lucky that Jungkook’s here for you, a personal cheerleader of sorts, always rooting you on. You didn’t know bread could taste so sweet.

“Jungkook.” “Hmm?” He’s nodding off, head rested in his palm, elbow on the counter, slumped on the stool. He’s trying hard to keep his eyes open, but he’s been dozing, hair flopping around as he tries to keep himself awake. It’s painful to watch him. “Go to bed.” “’t’s okay.” Jungkook straightens his spine and stretches above his head with a yawn. “I’ll wait for you.” “I’m not going to be done my cakes for a while. Just go back and sleep. Aren’t you tired?” “Only a little.” He slides off his stool anyway, oddly obedient when he can’t be bothered to put up a fight. Still, Jungkook comes over and you instantly know what he wants. He leans down, propping his chin on your shoulder, and you hug him as he folds over you. His body is nearly covering your entire frame like a blanket, but it’s warm and comfortable. “I wanted to wait for you,” he mumbles sleepily into your shoulder. “You’ll see me tomorrow, you big baby.” He makes a disgruntled noise, eyes shut, squeezing you before letting go. You smile at him. “Here.” And you help Jungkook undo his white apron. He turns around so you can undo the strings and once it’s free from his body, you haphazardly toss the apron on the counter. You press your hands against his cheeks so his mouth puckers and you place a brief kiss to his lips. “Okay, now go back and sleep.” “Okay.” Jungkook relents and retreats away, barely dragging his legs along. A soft smile finds its way on your face, but right when the door of the kitchen closes, your nose scrunches. There’s a smokey smell in the air. Immediately, you whirl around to where you’re working and a gasp rips from your lungs. Jungkook’s apron that you tossed, the one he once told you was precious and lucky to him, is caught on fire. The cloth is curling right on the stove, burnt off, red flames engulfing it. After a delayed second, you finally lurch forward and grab the edge of it to dump it in the sink. The smoke rises as you turn on the tap and you watch, completely stunned and speechless. “Shit. Shit!” // You’re at a loss of what to do. You’ve stuffed the dirty thing in your bag, went home and tried to recover it. But the white apron has a huge gaping hole right at the center and there’s nothing to be undone. You tried to read the tag too, to find the brand, to find where it was manufactured, but it’s been worn and faded. So you consult help. “Jimin, do you know where Jungkook’s apron is from? The one he usually wears.” “No idea,” the boy says and you’re flooded with complete disappointment. “Didn’t his grandpa give him that thing before he passed away? I think it’s why Jungkook started baking in the first place.” Blood drains from your face. You feel worse than you did before. Jimin notices the way your expression crumples, how you’re on the verge of tears and his eyes widen. “Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” “Don’t tell Jungkook….but...I…..I accidentally burnt his apron.” There’s a quiet pause. “Oh shit.” “What do I do, Jimin?” Guilt and remorse eats you whole, chewing and spitting you out to leave you nude and mortified. “I just took it off of him and threw it on the counter. I didn’t know it would land by the stove!” “You can’t read the tag?” When you shake your head, the boy sighs and his voice softens in sympathy you don’t want. “I’m sure Jungkook won’t be upset with you, Y/N. It was an accident.” But you can’t come clean with him. You can’t bear seeing Jungkook’s disappointed face. The inevitable expression that’ll arrive if you tell him you destroyed a precious belonging. If you tell him you ruined his late grandpa’s last gift. If you tell him you wrecked what started him on this journey. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen something like this before.” Aeri holds it up, studying the pathetic piece of cloth in the light and ignoring the giant hole in the center. She’s the next person you turn to and perhaps your last one. Yoongi would just laugh in your face and call you an idiot. Taehyung can’t keep a secret for his life. And Hoseok has more than enough on his plate than to deal with your antics. Jimin and Aeri are the ones who are understanding and kind enough to actually help you in your dumb crisis. “Have you tried searching online?” “I found one similar on amazon but it’s not the same. The pockets are placed differently. He’ll know.” “Doesn’t Jungkook have the standard one from school?” “It’s...not the same.” You exhale in defeat and fall back onto her bed. You cover your face with your hands to shield away the sunlight that comes through the windows. The nice, autumn weather felt like it was mocking you. “What should I do? What if Jungkook breaks up with me over it? I wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” The girl laughs. “He wouldn’t. Jungkook’s not that kind of person. I’m sure if you just told him, everything will be okay, Y/N.” That’s what everyone reassures, and in the back of your mind, you know he can’t be upset with you for that long. But Jungkook trusted you with a personal belonging of his — something so special and you burnt it to a crisp. You feel guilty. There’s no amount of apologies that can bring the apron back to how it was. You’ve ruined it like how you ruin everything else in your life. // “Hey, have you seen my apron?” Jungkook’s digging into his belongings a few days later, having searched his locker and is now looking into his drawers and into his closet. You swallow hard, knowing that this was imminent. “N-nope.” “Weird. I swear I had it here….” You glance at your backpack. There’s a new apron that you bought, had it shipped to you in a day’s time. You picked the nicest gift bag to put it in too, but you haven’t had the courage to confront him about it. You wonder what Jungkook would do if he decided to end the relationship over this. Maybe he’ll cite that he’s done with your shit, that you’re irresponsible and too clingy. That you’re too emotional, how he can’t trust you with anything, and perhaps he'll say he needs space. You’ll survive — you know that much. You’ve been through enough in your life to know you’ll make it out, but surviving is not the same thing as living. Jungkook’s become such a big part of your life — your boyfriend, partner in crime, best friend — you don’t know if you’ll ever be ready to be without him. You love him, more than you’ve ever loved anyone else before. “What’s the matter?” Jungkook’s suddenly squeezing your face together, the cheesiest grin painted across his own visage. “I’ve been calling you for the past five minutes. Are you thinking about someone else when you’re with your boyfriend?” You blink at him, eyes becoming glossy. Jungkook’s confusion takes over when you don’t make any snarky comebacks, when he realizes you’re not in the mood to joke around. He slowly lowers his grip and sits down on the edge of his bead, concern taking hold. “Is everything okay?” Your breath staggers out from your mouth. “Don’t be mad.” His brows furrow deep. “What’s wrong?” You open your mouth, but realize that you can’t say it. So you lean down and grab the gift bag from your backpack. You hand it to him and he takes it in his bewilderment, peeking inside. You tear your eyes away. You can’t bear to see his face. “I’m sorry. Really. I am, Jungkook. The….the other day when I took off your apron, I threw it on the counter without looking and it caught on fire. I was trying to look for another one, but I don’t know where it’s from and I know it’s special to you, and I’m so sorry.” There’s silence. Then the noise of his chuckling. You lift your head and you’re instantaneously engulfed into Jungkook’s arms, hugged by him. “I love it, thank you.” You’re stunned — and it takes a moment for you to snap back to reality. “You’re not mad at me?” “No.” Jungkook scoffs lightly and pulls away with a grin. “I was wondering why you’ve been so quiet the entire day. I was more worried than anything. You didn’t get burnt, did you?” “No.” “Good. Then that’s all that matters.” He’s humming happily, unfolding the new apron and pushing out the folded wrinkles. Then Jungkook stands up while holding it out on his body, checking how it looks in the mirror. You can’t comprehend how he can be so forgiving. “Wasn’t the other one from your grandpa? You started baking because of him, right?” “Kind of. He cooked a lot and told me I should find something I love to do and make it my job. It was a bit of a whim.” The boy turns around, doe eyes twinkling. “But that old man gave me a whole box of stuff, not just the apron. And honestly, it was kind of getting old and worn, so I’m glad I have a new one now — plus it’s from my amazing girlfriend, so how can I not love it?” It takes three seconds. Three seconds and then you burst out crying. You’re not sure exactly why and it causes Jungkook to be alarmed. He tries to comfort you, but he’s obviously uncomfortable as he pats your back and caresses your hair awkwardly. It’s only when you’ve calmed down a bit where he wipes your cheeks with his thumbs and asks if it was something he said. When you tell him you’re not quite sure, the next question he asks is if you’re on your period — and you almost slap him. The pair of you don’t talk about your meltdown again, but in the middle of the night while you’re still awake, you’re finally able to pinpoint your emotion. It wasn’t that you were afraid of Jungkook being angry or breaking up with you — you were afraid of disappointing him, of breaking his heart, of hurting him. You know anyone else in your life would’ve been let down. But not Jungkook. And for that, you feel relieved, reassured, comforted. You feel fortunate that he loves you, and most of all, you realize just how much you cherish the boy named Jeon Jungkook.

In the middle of your bread and viennoiserie class, while your floured hands are folding laminated dough, Taehyung looks up from the counter with a sudden question. “What kind of wedding cake do you guys want?” “The hell did that come from,” Yoongi grunts beside him, his beloved silence now broken. “Well I was just thinking salami and prosciutto would be so delicious with bread, because I love myself some deli meats and there’s this super cute girl at the deli I go to, but I’m pretty sure she has a boyfriend. Anyway, I started to remember the cakes they had on display at the bakery section and there was a funfetti one with a cartoon rabbit on it that looked a lot like Jungkook.” “What?” Taehyung keeps rambling, literally thinking out loud, “Then I realized he and Y/N are probably gonna get married someday, and I wondered if I was going to be a groomsman at the wedding and what kind of cake they were going to have, so yeah. What kind of cake do you guys want?” Yoongi's expression is disconcerting as if he’s wondering how Taehyung lives peacefully with a brain like his. “Do you ever get tired being yourself?” “Hey, you asked.” The tall brunette is unbothered by the insult and turns to the two of you for an answer. “What kind of wedding cake are you guys going to have?” Your mind is reeling. Getting married to Jungkook seems so far away from now. The pair of you are barely in your twenties, and you’re not particularly inclined to get hitched so young. But in terms of cake — your own specialty — you’ve had one in mind since the beginning of time. “Well obviously, we’re going to have chocolate.” — “Fresh strawberries and cream.” You and Jungkook both answer at the same time over top each other. Your heads turn, eyes meeting, stares connected. “Of course we’re going to have chocolate.” “Aren’t you sick of it? I make chocolate for you all the time,” Jungkook argues. “And you eat some every other day.” “I could never get sick of chocolate.” You frown. “Since when did you like fresh strawberries and cream?” “Always.” He shrugs. “And when we worked at Kim's cakes, that flavour always tasted the best to me. It’s fresh, but still sweet. I think everyone would like it. It’s versatile.” “Yeah, but what matters is that we like it.” “I like it.” “Yeah, but I think chocolate is just more fitting for us.” Yoongi sighs, looking over at Taehyung. “Here they go again.” “What?” You direct your attention to the sleepy man, a sharp bite to your words. “What do you mean ‘here we go again’?” Taehyung’s eyes widen and he begins to slide away from the counter, not wanting to be in the face of your wrath. Yoongi, on the other hand, has never been intimidated by you in the least bit. “The both of you are always fighting.” You glance at your boyfriend. “No, we’re not.” “First it was about cookie dough and then pineapple on pizza, soufflés and now this.” Yoongi spits straight up facts without sugar coating it and you’re left stumped. You didn’t realize how it looked to outsiders. You know there’s never animosity between you and Jungkook — it’s just debates, but you suppose the arguments happen frequently. You stare at Jungkook and he smiles tenderly at you. The man turns back towards his friends. “I like getting Y/N riled up. Isn’t it fun to watch her?” “Excuse me?” you scoff, not expecting that kind of response. “Ugh.” But Taehyung takes his words in a completely different meaning and his face scrunches. “So this is a kink you guys get off on? Making other people suffer by listening to your bickering?” Jungkook doesn’t say anything and merely wiggles his brows. It makes your face hot and Yoongi appears disgusted as well next to his baking partner. Your boyfriend looks off at you. “How about chocolate strawberry cake then? We can have chocolate cake layers and alternate between cream and ganache in between. We can frost it in strawberry buttercream with strawberry roses as decoration — and of course, a pile of chocolate strawberries as the topper.” You grin at him, leaning in to press a kiss on his lips. “Brilliant. As usual.” “Ugh.” Taehyung groans even louder. “Nevermind. Go back to hating each other. I can’t handle you two being sappy and gross.” “Well get used to it,” you tell him proudly while Jungkook drapes an arm over your shoulder, approving your message. It’s only when the teacher brushes past all four of you and reminds all of you to continue kneading your dough do you remember that you’re in class with everyone eavesdropping in. But you don’t mind shamelessly flaunting your relationship with Jungkook — you’re proud of him and of loving him. // It’s later that night when you’re snuggling while watching some show playing on his laptop, that you verbalize some doubts that Taehyung’s snuck into your mind. “Do you think we argue too much?” “What?” Jungkook turns his head. “Not really. I like arguing with you — well, not in any way that makes any of us upset or anything, but I like our heated debates. Why? Don’t you?” “I do,” you hum. “I was worried you didn’t. I don’t want to make it seem like I’m always picking fights with you.” He laughs and the sound is melodic to your ears. Jungkook’s grip on you tightens, making sure he’s holding you close. “You are. But I don’t mind. We don’t need to agree on everything to be together.” You lean into his warmth and a content sigh escapes your lips. Of all the things that you disagree with Jungkook on, you think he would agree that the both of you cherish being with one another. Future wedding or not, you want to savour every moment and all the antics you have together. That’s all that really matters.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fluff #jungkook scenario #btsboulangerie #jungkook x reader #jungkook baking AU #jungkook baking!AU #sugar and coffee #ONE MORE CHAPTER GUYSSSS

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jostepherjoestar · 4 years ago

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An Educational Favour: IV

NOTsfw // FEM! reader & pronouns

warnings/notes: 18+ content, minors dni, it’s Formaggio x reader and Risotto close by, interc0urse, v0yeurism?, taking it slooooow, butt stuff (penetration), discussion of prepping too!, the tension between ris and you is just.. wow

part 1- 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

PART IV: 🧀Formaggio🧀

You slumped down on the beanbag that huffed under your movements, a few kernels that filled the bag twirling as the air pushed them out. Just like the seating you let out a long sigh, pulling the thick sweater sleeves over your hands and sitting on them in annoyance, trying to stop yourself from nervously chewing on your nails. Nothing felt right today, the way the sun barely broke through the clouds causing a dreary mood to settle on home-base, every glance in the mirror making you tug at your appearance, straightening your posture in attempt to look even slightly appealing to your own critical mind. Choosing the bulky sweater and your soft pyjama pants to grace the figure you so condemned today. Not all days are meant to be great but it was a disappointing start since later on you’d made plans to go on another titillating adventure, this time with the easygoing man named Formaggio. You weren’t dreading it but after you spilt your coffee all over the kitchen counter this morning and stubbed your toes on the heavy couch that rested a few meters away from you, glaring at it while sat in the one thing that couldn’t hurt you for now, you weren’t sure if today would even go right.

The entire atmosphere seemed to move against you, like a migrating salmon moving upstream, waiting for a bear to come put you out of your misery. Speaking of bears… Risotto’s large figure waltzed into the room as you huffed out an amused chuckle as you imagined him sinking his claws into your scaly body and tearing at your flesh. Not quite the ravaging you’d asked him for. “Is everything alright there?” His familiar deep voice coaxing you out of the conflicting fantasy to meet his gaze. It seemed that today had also claimed your capo as their unfortunate victim. Thin black coloured metal frames resting on his shapely nose, the one that reminded you so much of Michelangelo’s David, carefully chiseled after much consideration. He reserved his glasses for off days, just like his relaxed outfit of pyjama pants and a black robe, the sparkling image of comfort. “Yeah yeah, I’m fine. Today just feels… off.” Resounding the last word in perfect unison before Risotto chuckled, the sound alone unearthing a pleasant feeling. “Let’s hope Formaggio is in good spirits.” He huffed while taking a seat on the creaky leather couch, groaning a bit as he stretched his arms over the backrest.

“What was that about being in a good mood?” The smooth cadence ringing out into the quiet space of the living room. His words followed by a long stretched out yawn, feet dragging over the wooden floor as if lifting them were an arduous chore. It seemed the universe claimed yet another one into the lazy mood, like it forced all to remain seated or else you’d face its wrath of misfortune. Not that a peaceful day hadn’t been a welcome one, the strain of working jobs could lay heavily on the shoulders of La Squadra Esecuzioni. “Today’s a bit shit, huh?” Groans of approval coming from the two men lounging on the couch. “What are we gonna do about tonight? Cancel?” You spoke up, worried that it just wasn’t the right day and you’d have to reschedule which would mean a longer wait and some shuffling of the roster to make it work out.

“Nah, too much of a bother. Besides, maybe it’ll work out just fine. No one’s home right now anyway.” It was true, it would be a bother and no one was home besides the three of you, all out on their respective assignments. You silently wished them all a more successful day considering the mood. You hummed in agreement as you got up to join them on the leather seats, trying to choose the perfect spot. But between Risotto’s large figure spread out so widely and Formaggio not really bothering to close his legs, there was no more room to speak of. “Hey! What about me?” You whined, tugging at the hem of your soft sweater, not up for a fight. “Got a special seat right here lady.” Formaggio’s smug grin darting between your figure and the space between his groin and the couch. You shot your capo a pleading look, begging him to step in like an annoyed child asking their mother to scold their older sibling.

“Don’t look at me, we’re all adults here.” That little smirk starting to dent his cheek ever so slightly, letting you know there was no ally to be found in your dark eyed colleague. He looked so handsome and refined wearing those frames, different than his usual rugged state that was no less attractive. “As I said… there’s no one home but us.” The grey haired man smothering his words in a heavy helping of salaciousness as he eyed you up again. Sensing the shifting mood, letting a few familiar tingles loose inside of you as you fidgeted, unsure if you should take the bait. “I-I haven’t gotten ready yet, Formaggio. I look like a mess!” Today’s critical mind still gnawing at you, never one to easily back down. You’d been glad your previous partners had received the confident you that was her own proud cheerleader, but today she was on break, leaving you in front of a filled stadium with no remorse. “Pfft. A mess? Jesus, you couldn’t look bad if you tried. I’ll show you just how pretty you are, inside and out.” He gestured you over again, his expression a bit sterner to meet the seriousness of his words. It wasn’t just to make you feel better, he was being truthful. Risotto just admired from his comfortable crook, wishing to chime in on the complements but opting to just let Formaggio do the sweet talking.

You finally take him up on the offer and slid in between his legs, letting his arms slip through your elbows to cradle you into his touch as he pressed his torso closer to your back. Hot breaths tickled your neck, a sensitive shudder moving through you, straight down into your panties. Grabbing onto his hand that locked you into him as he gently moved aside your hair to place wet kisses along your neck. Lazily sucking at your tender skin, making you let out a small moan when another shiver ran through you, earning a chuckle from him. “Are you always this sensitive? Then again, by the sounds I’ve heard coming from you, that might be true.” Feeling his surprisingly soft lips curl into a smile as he continued leaving marks. Remembering just how audible you’ve been with the rest, bringing a blush to your cheeks as your skin heated in reaction. You could feel Risotto’s laser-focus on you, admiring just how cutely you were reacting to the intimate pecks.

As Formaggio made his way to your cheek, planting more wet sloppy kisses wherever he felt like, you felt his grip around you loosen and his hand snaking under your sweater to grope your chest. Toying with your nipple through the fabric of your thin bralette, his pulls and teases only making you more satisfied with the choice of undergarments. Your soft pants were cut off by his lips ghosting over yours, deep hums tickling you as he lingered over them, basking in the barely-there touch. His movements remained at such a leisurely pace, so intoxicating it subdued any feelings of impatience, his actions reflecting his personality; lax and engaging.

His plump lips like a warm hug as he met yours, hand still kneading your breast as a tentative squeeze made you moan into him. Moving in deeper, welcoming him into your awaiting mouth as his curious tongue set the pace to slow and steady. Wet sounds filled the air with the occasional muffled moan. “You’re absolutely beautiful, you know that? The way you so eagerly let go, so ready to get lost. You’ve driven us all quite wild, kitten.” Every word sticking to your flushed cheeks like glue as his sweet voice whispered, getting drunk off of his praise.

“Could you take those off for me sweetheart?” You hummed in reply, he had already been toying at the edge of your soft pyjama bottoms, his head moving back into your neck where he stayed and placed more wet pecks, nibbling at your ear to egg you on. You made quick work of your bottoms, now bare, resting on the leather couch cushions warmed by your combined body heat. “Move up your legs a bit, I’ll treat you so good, darlin’.” You moved back further into him so you could bend your knees and rest your feet on his spread knees. You felt so exposed, cold air contrasting the warmth Formaggio was giving off behind you. Your breasts aching, wanting to feel his touch again as he slid out his hand from under your sweater, his other arm coming around to grasp you like your capo had done so sweetly last time as Ghiaccio pleased you.

Carefully, as if handling a precious work of art, the man let thick fingers slide over your folds, already glistening in your wetness from his sultry work in your neck. His delicateness making your breath hitch and your feet desperately trying to cling onto his knees. “So sensitive, so sweet. You want me to touch you more?” He singsonged so closely into the shell of your ear. He could coax anything out of you if he kept up his alluring pace. As you nodded with a needy moan he slid between them, working a finger aggravatingly slow over your clit. As more mewls escaped while you clung to his thighs, digging into them whenever he rubbed just right, he kept his lazy sucking going, sure he’s left a mark on your neck by now. “Do you want Risotto to touch himself too, just as slowly as us?” He grinned, having heard from Illuso just how much you like that. “Y-yes please.” You stuttered, words having a hard time leaving your lips as he kept up his leisurely movements.

The creaks of the leather let you know Risotto was doing just as asked, your eyes were too busy being pressed shut from Formaggio’s expert circles to check. “We’re gonna take our time today, kitten.” A cheeky nibble at your earlobe as he spoke so tenderly. The memory of the strange energy that made you question today’s success already a forgotten one, what your were up to now was a lot more worthy to stick around your consciousness.

Squelching sounds from how incredibly wet the slow pace made you harmonised so well with the barely audible sound of Risotto’s heavier breathing as he calmly stroked himself. The pace urging both of you to remain patient as heat started to build up steadily. Like water slowly rising, a steady flow being let in to painstakingly reach its limit. Formaggio occasionally dipped into your warm hole, slowly collecting your essence and spreading it over your folds. He worked you all over, giving your entire pussy the attention it deserved. As your breathing got heavier with the rising heat of your orgasm, walls clenching around nothingness, his pace didn’t falter, continuing his skilful rubs over your overly sensitive bud. “Do you want to come?” He purred into your neck, breaths so hot and heavy it made you want to combust. “P-please!” You begged so sweetly, he was already planning on letting you come but that whine sent a jolt straight to his hardening cock, twitching as it rubbed against your behind. “Do you want Risotto to come too?” His mischievous question paired with a quick dip between your aching walls. “Not y-yet.” It was an honest reply, you knew Formaggio wasn’t leaving you after rubbing you so nicely. Your capo will have to stretch his patience even thinner and slow his movements even more. The dark eyed man groaning as he heard your reply, but not of annoyance or denying him his pleasure for a little while more. The way you made him obey orders, even as softly as you gave them, made him only want to please you more. This whole endeavour of observing and letting his teammates have a say in his actions greatly aroused him, but most of all it was the slow build up to the end; having you all to himself.

Formaggio chuckled into your crook, letting you get your wish as he worked you through the rising gratification. The limit had been reached as you breathed out deeply with a loud continuous moan as it overflowed slowly, the peak only dragged out as the grey haired man kept his steady movements going to let you ride it out. Squirming through the ripples, pinching your knees together as you clamped your nails into his thighs to ground yourself from the full body sensation. The pool had stilled, panting as you slowly regained your senses, the feeling of your own wetness dripping onto the couch causing a small smile to appear onto your satisfied face. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited to make you come. All those times I heard you, I only wished it was me that was making you feel so good.” A sloppy, wet suck onto your neck that had been lapped so delicately throughout. “Thank you Formaggio.” You sighed, the thought of him stroking himself while the others fucked you such a titillating visual it made your walls clench again. “Oh don’t thank me now, sweetheart. We’re not done yet. I’m gonna go grab something, could you lay down for me?” His voice leading you down as he gently placed your feet back onto the floor.

As he slid out from behind you and left the room, still riding on the high of the thorough orgasm you silently met your capo’s gaze. Stroking his large member ever so slightly, grasping the base firmly while his thumb caressed his sensitive underside. His frames had crept down his nose, his eyes so focused on yours, tethered onto you as you moved closer. The tension so palpable it made your hand tremble as you pushed the bridge of the frames back up his stunning nose. Slowly retracting, clinging onto every bit of self control not to kiss the beautiful specimen in front of you. You hesitated for a second, letting yourself linger in his space before deciding it would be best to move down like Formaggio had asked. It took just as much strength from your capo to restrain his desire, holding back from taking you into his arms. Instead he kept up his increasingly slow strokes, letting his pleasure build.

Formaggio returned, glad to see you’ve positioned yourself like he had asked, head resting near Risotto’s figure while your legs spread out. “I assume you’ve prepped just like I asked, kitten?” The man moved back onto the couch, placing himself between your legs, holding a bottle of clear lube he’d brought with. His gaze so lovingly taking in the blush on your cheeks as you nodded. God you were such a treat, waiting to get ravaged. Somehow, even after literally just making you come, you were a bit embarrassed to admit you prepped yourself to let him play with your ass. “Good girl.” He praised while moving his hands over your legs carefully. “Let’s play first, get you used to it huh?” Moving his bottoms down to meet yours on the floor, his hardened cock just as casual as its owner. Uncut and packing girth as it bobbed while he moved, a small gathering of pre-come beading at the head of his adequate length.

“We’re going to keep going slow, ok? Don’t get too worked up when my dick’s in your pretty mouth.” That warm chuckle making your muscles relax as he moved over you, his member looming over your face as his warm breaths tickled your inner thighs, opening them further. Remembering his words you nipped at his cock, soft lips pecking the tip as your deft finger moved downward to reveal his head. Languid licks like honey dripping on a cold day; slow and at its own volition. His groan of satisfaction so buttery and smooth into your plush skin. Formaggio’s hands massaged your thighs and hips, kneading them in an attempt to relax every muscle before starting his exploit of your tight hole.

There’s a first time for everything, the very reason you had embarked on this exploit. As exciting as the last few times were, nervousness remained at the though of letting Formaggio play with a different hole. He’d asked beforehand if you were comfortable with it, his charms doing the talking, relaxing you and assuring it was alright if you weren’t. But that eager curiosity’s hold on you was ever so strong, bravery pushing you further to accept. The preparations he asked of you were simple: clean thoroughly and try out a finger or two when you’re playing with yourself. And to your surprise it was nowhere as bad as you expected, making you all the more excited to let more experienced hands work away at you.

While it was a struggle to contain your excitement, the relaxed and sloth like aura Formaggio emitted helped you remain calm. Slow, twisting movements over his girth, having received a dollop of the cool gel on your fingers, lewd squelching sounds erupting every time you moved up and down his shaft. You’d suckle on his tip, tongue moving and flicking at the dripping slit, making sure to take all the time in the world while he began rubbing over your hole. The previously chilly lubed fingers heating up considerably, the way you were burning up from the sensation spreading through you. The slick tip of his thick finger gently pressing in while he groaned, mumbling how tight you were under his breath. As he moved his finger deeper it made you stop rubbing him for a second, regaining your breath, trying to relax your muscles so you’d enjoy the sensation.

“That’s it sweetheart. You’re doing good. We’re gonna keep going before I stuff you with my dick.” Your moan vibrating through his hard cock when he pulled out. Only to return with another finger, adding even more of the slick lube. As he moved in you felt your walls contract in pleasure, your core aching for stimulation as Formaggio started pumping in and out to work you open. Moaning louder and louder, the pleasure so different than anything else you’ve experienced. Saliva dripped out of the corner of your mouth, salivating while you took his heavy sack in your mouth to play with them. The way he let out a hiss while you felt them twitch let you know just how much he liked it.

You were getting so worked up by his actions, patience growing ever thinner as you wished for him to fill you up. “Formaggio I need you. Please fuck me.” A whiny beg, so needy. It only made him chuckle, your eagerness so endearing. His teammates weren’t wrong when they said you were such a good girl. “Can’t deny you, now can I?” He grinned while moving over you, placing himself between your legs, admiring the way your pussy was still dripping and awaiting any new form of stimulation. It almost made him feel bad that he would be working your tight little asshole instead. Almost.

His shaft was still thoroughly wet from the way you slobbered all over him, mixed with the generous dollop of lube he’d provided you with. His spongy tip prodding at the tight muscle, shushing you and kneading your hips to let you relax. As he slowly entered, letting you engulf his tip he waited, hissing and groaning at the feeling of your walls constricting him. “Fuck, you are so damn tight!” Letting himself gently work further into you, the feeling of his thick cock so delicious inside you while you whined. He finally let his hand that guided his thickness inside of you go, letting his hips set a gradual pace. Those skilful fingers now moving back to rub soft circles on your aching clit, the return so welcome as you moaned loudly at the simultaneous stimulation. Back arching off the couch as you felt your pleasure earn footing again, building slowly just like before. “Risotto… Speed up.”

Your command a welcome one to your throbbing capo, his length now a dark red from the prolonged stimulation, questioning if there was any blood left in his body that hadn’t rushed to his cock. As if a conductor urging their orchestra, harmonising moans and groans filled the room, your capo finally letting himself get comfortable with being a little more noisy. Formaggio felt his own pace falter, speeding up to chase his release as his circles on your clit grew faster and tighter. Moving in tandem with his thrusts inside your strained hole, he felt you clench, milking him, bringing him just at his limit before he pulled out. He continued at a fervent pace over your bud, his other hand stroking his shaft as thick ropes of pearly cum landed on your stomach after he moved up your sweater. His buttery voice so beautifully hoarse now when his breath hitches during his orgasm. Just as he did, your own followed, the familiar waves of pleasure careening through you, pressing your eyes shut, letting yourself get back down from the peak.

Not even needing a command, Risotto came too. A groan so sweet and deep, his body tensing up and twitching at his long awaited peak. Thick strokes of cum landed in your hair, the man behind you not expecting the orgasm to hit so hard. “Shit!” It only made you giggle at the feeling, knowing you’d end up in the shower anyway. You set yourself back straight on the cushions, blush still covering your cheeks and chest, the sweater getting too hot and constricting. Taking it off along with your bralette, sighing at the satisfaction of the newfound experience. “Was that any good?” Formaggio huffed as he tiredly slid down next to you, a gentle hand squeezing your thigh. “More than good Maggi. You’re really good with your hands.” Chuckling at the way his ministrations made bliss flood all over your body. “Why don’t you tidy up here. I’ll get her cleaned up.” Risotto’s voice surprised you, when he remained so still in his corner, breaths so soft you barely heard them; it was like he’d merged with the couch itself. “Yea sure, whatever you say.” Formaggio looked about ready to pass out, eyes drooping as he slid deeper into the couch, all tuckered out from his work.

It felt nice to have Risotto be so adamant on taking care of you afterwards. A ritual he didn’t want to let another indulge in. Even last time, after the cuddle session that followed Ghiaccio’s meeting, he insisted on helping you get cleaned. Not that his face would let it show, but he felt dejected when you replied you’d take a shower yourself, any more stimulation to your skin setting it aflame after the rough get-together.

Just like before he ran a bath for you, letting the soft bubbles grow bigger. He looked so adorable now, those glasses really suited him, offering a softer balance to his features. “You look very cute in those Risotto, you should wear them more often.” You chuckled while staring up at him from the warm tub. He had stayed and rested on the side, having taken off his robe so he could dabble his arm in the water. He looked a little too deep in thought, staring at the ripples his movements created through the foam. “Do you want to get in?” Your cute smile and that bright twinkle in your eyes so alluring, like a siren in his very own residence. He had been thinking about it, wanting to hug you close while you gently got each other all washed up. “No, it’s ok. Later. Take your time.” His deep sigh making you question if that’s what he actually wanted. You willed yourself not to get too caught up, not to assume what he’d been thinking.

For now you’d just try and relax, soaking up the heat from the relaxing bath and checking off another wish. Your memory book starting to get quite full of experience thanks to your teammates. The last three candidates left offering the final challenges. A devious grin at the thought of the final champions.

#woof risotto and reader are really building shit up huh #jjba x reader #la squadra x reader #formaggio x reader #risotto x reader #jjba smut #la squadra #jjba fic #jjba x y/n #jjba imagines #not sfw #minors dni #jojo's bizarre adventure #risotto nero #formaggio

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freakygirlie · 4 years ago

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J2 Fanfic Rec List <3

In honour of all the j2 content we have recieved, and the amount of fanfiction I have read, I decided to make a rec-list nobody asked me for but EVERYONE has to read k? Capiche? Make sure to heed the warnings, and read the tags. These are some beautiful gems by very talented authors and I’ve only scratched the surface of it.

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The Courtship Of Jensen’s Co-Star{Masterpost} by qblackheart-

Summary:- Somewhere in the time between a handshake and a hug, Jensen Ackles and Jared Padalecki went from being reel-life brothers to real-life best friends, and complete strangers to cosmic soul mates, no rhyme or reason to it that either of them could ever see. Jared was everything Jensen was not: friendly, funny, and full of life; one in six-point-whatever billion the Earth’s population currently stood at. Life was awesome. Work was amazing. Everything was fine until Jared kissed Jensen. Everything was peachy until Jensen fell in love. With desperate times unexpectedly calling for desperate measures, Jensen called Chad Michael Murray for relationship advice – because being in love led to temporary insanity obviously – so it really didn't surprise him that he couldn’t seem to win when it came to wooing Jared. Still, Pisces must’ve been in a really good place in the night sky or something because suddenly, right smack dab in the middle of the miserable courtship of his co-star, Jensen discovered that maybe loving Jared was all he needed to do to win his heart. And luckily for Jensen, loving Jared was also the one thing he did best. ~112k~

The Play Nice Proviso{Masterpost} by qblackheart-

Summary:- When Jensen Ackles first met Jared Padalecki, it was most definitely not love at first sight. It wasn’t even like at first sight. In fact, Jensen hated him, and he had a few good reasons as to why. So what if his new co-star was oblivious to his one-sided warfare? Jensen could deal. Apart from when he couldn’t. So when it came down to picking between Padalecki and his peace of mind, the choice seemed clear. Except for the fact that The Network had his balls in a vice, leaving him stuck with Supernatural, stuck with his idiot co-star, and worst of all, stuck with a ‘Play Nice’ Proviso added to his contract. Well, he could play nice. He would play so nice that the world was going to think that he and Jared Padalecki were the bestest friends in the history of best friends. It was unfortunate then that no one had ever told Jensen what happened when an immovable object met an irresistible force; no one had ever thought to mention that there was a thin line between hate and love; and nothing, absolutely nothing, could have possibly prepared him for Playing Nice with Jared Padalecki. ~70k~

And The Rest, As They Say Is History by Raina_at-

Summary:- Struggling actor Jensen takes a job as big-shot movie star Jared Padalecki’s dogsitter. And the rest, as they say, is history. ~17k~

reinventing love ‘verse{Masterpost} by _mournthewicked-

Summary:- With high school graduation less than two weeks away, best friends Jared and Jensen find themselves scrambling to tie up a few loose ends before they’re forced into adulthood. Jared ropes Jensen into helping him get the alcohol for Sandy's graduation party, and what should be a simple night of partying ends up turning into a series of mishaps and misunderstandings that all come to head when Jensen finally tells Jared the secret he wasn't ever planning on spilling. If high school has to end, they're going out with a bang. (A J2 spin on the movie Superbad) ~200k+~

My Heart Don’t Beat The Way It Used To by Raina_at-

Summary:- Jared and Jensen have been best friends forever, and nothing’s going to ever change that, not even senior slump, or college anxieties, or even Jared getting an annoying cheerleader girlfriend. Or so Jensen thought. ~26k~

Can’t Point The Way To Your Heart by Belyste-

Summary:- AU in the vein of movies like Hitch - Jensen's an unofficial advice guru, and Jared's his latest project. Except while Jensen's supposed to be helping Jared end up with the woman of his dreams, he falls for him instead. ~33k~

Something Borrowed, Something Blue by Belyste-

Summary:- When Jared desperately needs a date for his brother's wedding, he hires an escort. Jensen's the perfect fake boyfriend, except pretty soon things get a little too real. Based on The Wedding Date. ~38k~

True Colors by muni-playground-

Summary:- Jared is a mentally challenged young man with a very special gift. Jensen is an executive with nothing in his life but work. They meet by accident and discover a connection that defies explanation. ~32k~

The Billionaire’s Reluctant Husband by house_of_lantis-

Summary:- Billionaire Jensen is a playboy and he needs a husband pronto if he wants to keep his company and his inheritance. After a chance meeting with quiet and hardworking Jared, Jensen decides that he’s found the perfect candidate. The arrogant Jensen thinks he’s got Jared in the bag, but when his new husband refuses to sleep with him and doesn’t really even seem to like him, Jensen convinces himself that he’s happy with his open marriage lifestyle. But Jensen becomes increasingly obsessed with his new husband and discovers the truth behind Jared’s dark past. ~98k~

Project Get Jared Banged{Masterpost} by soulmatecest-

Summary:- Jared's had the best stepbrother in the world in Jensen since the age of five — growing up together and more attached than usual brothers would —, only realizing that he’s in love with Jensen by the time he hits thirteen. After five more years of Jared's impossible crush, he knows his life turns and spins around his brother. Luckily for Jared, he and Jensen have always been closer than other siblings, making his feelings seem a little less hopeless. Or that is until Jensen announces he’s moving to Austin to live with his girlfriend next year, leaving Jared's perfectly built Jensen-centric world crashing to the ground. That’s when Chad and Sandy decide to convince Jared that moving on and letting go of his feelings are the only way to get through his lost love for Jensen. Yet their plan to get Jared out of his shell and over his stepbrother doesn't sit well with one person: Jensen himself, who realizes that the more Jared tries to pull away, the more he wants to get him back closer. ~120k~

Burn The Land and Boil The Sea by nyxocity-

Summary:- Eight years ago, Jared spent his entire summer on a tropical island off the coast of Mexico with Jensen. He fell head over heels for Jensen, but their lives were going separate directions at the end of the summer, and they never quite got together. Jensen left for Greenpeace and Jared went off to college—but he never truly got over Jensen. Now, in present day, Jared is a marine biologist working on a project in the gorgeous panhandle of Alaska. He’s amazed to discover the captain of the ship he’s chartered is none other than Jensen Ackles himself. Jared’s overjoyed, but Jensen is less than thrilled—he’s a changed man since that summer so long ago; withdrawn, passionless and solitary. Still something of the bond between them remains, and neither of them seem to be able to escape its pull completely. When Jared’s project leads them into danger and leaves them running and fighting for their lives, Jensen’s secrets begin to come out, drawing them back together—but can they survive long enough to figure out this thing between them? ~53k~

As This Sunset Turns to Morning{Masterpost} by _mournthewicked-

Summary:- Jensen spends his life hiding who he is from the family that would never accept him if they knew. When he’s uprooted in the middle of his senior year and suddenly becomes the new kid, his carefully placed mask begins to slip. Especially when he meets Jared – a loud, outspoken spectacle of a boy that fights for everything Jensen was taught to stand against. Jared has no problem going after what he wants, and now it’s just a matter of Jensen letting himself do the same. ~86k~

Leave My Heart Out of This by elless18- (link to the timestamps)

Summary:- AU. Jensen needs to get married in order to get his grandfather’s inheritance and open his own law firm. Jared would do anything to help his best friend. The plan is simple- pretend to date, get married, get the inheritance, get divorced. But things grow complicated when one of them starts falling for his fake boyfriend. Can they find their happily-ever-after from all the lies they’ve built around them? ~35k+~

Who Watches Over Me? by nyoxicity-

Summary:- Jensen Ackles is an ex-Navy SEAL turned civilian bodyguard with a mysterious past. Jared Padalecki is a flamboyant Hollywood star known for his action movies who's been receiving death threats. The case sounds like Jensen's idea of a nightmare, and he takes it on against his better judgment. Jared drags him to clubs and parties and award ceremonies without any care for how difficult he's making Jensen's job, and to his complete lack of surprise, they hate each other. But when hate changes into passion, it begins to reveal something deeper between them, and Jensen realizes he's in over his head. Can he still do his job and keep Jared safe? Or will he fall prey to his greatest fear and fail someone... again? ~96k~

The Billionaire’s Bidding by Raina_at-

Summary:- When idle, slacking billionaire’s son Jensen Ackles lends a helping hand to his old childhood friend, he gets a lot more than he’s bargained for. ~31k~

Hold My Whipped Cream by dimpleforyourthoughts-

Summary:- International Best Selling Author Jensen Ackles is all kinds of specific with the details of his life. He likes privacy, writing, and coffee; black, no sugar, hold the cream. He’s become a fixture at the local coffee shop, writing from his table every day for the past two years. His vices include routine, neatness, and structure. Jensen doesn’t do messes. Then there is Jared, recent post-grad basket case, who’s been coming in every day for caffeine he doesn’t need and bringing the increasing disaster in his life with him. Jared is a mess in all the ways Jensen is not and so Jensen offers to help Jared in the only way he knows how: by buying Jared a cup of coffee. ~37k~

Operation: Mistletoe by dimpleforyourthoughts-

Summary:- FBI Agent Jensen Ackles is a damn good agent, but his devil-may-care attitude, gut instinct, and sheer dumb luck have finally run out. With his job and reputation on the line, Jensen is assigned to a new partner: the overzealous and overachieving Agent Jared Padalecki. Their mission: Infiltrate a ring of drug dealers hiding out in Suburbia in the midst of the Holiday season. The only catch? They have to pretend to be head-over-heels in love with each other. ~39k~

Regaining Sense{Masterpost} by astri13-

Summary:- A vengeful crime-boss cost Jensen not only his eyesight but also a promising career with the FBI. When the man resurfaces two years later, Jensen is not thrilled to find himself taken into protective custody, even less so when the Agent in charge turns out to be Jensen's former partner and boyfriend, Jared Padalecki. Will the two men be able to overcome their differences and work together to not only stop the bad guy but also uncover the mole in their own ranks before it is too late? ~27k~

Say You’re Mine by Belyste-

Summary:- It takes his two best friends getting engaged to make Jared realize what’s missing in his own life, but once he figures it out, he’s a man on a mission: find true love or die trying. He’s not asking for much – just the perfect soul mate to spend blissful eternity with – so when a chance meeting drops Jensen into his life (and his lap), it seems like fate. But either Jensen missed that memo or fate seems to have other ideas, because nothing works out the way Jared planned. Based loosely on S1 of How I Met Your Mother, but you don't need to have seen that to know what's going on. ~56k~

Absence From Those We Love by _mournthewicked-

Summary:- Jensen Ackles led a great life. It just wasn’t the one he planned on. Now he’s newly single, stuck at a job he hates, and sharing an apartment with his lovably psychotic best friend. When he’s given the chance to go back and do it all over again, he leaps at it. Only he soon comes to realize that no matter what’s in front of him, it’s impossible to leave the past behind. Considering what he’d be giving up, he might not even want to. (17 Again - J2 Style.) ~41k~

Change The Fate’s Design by _mournthewicked-

Summary:- All Jensen has ever wanted to do is see the ocean. Unfortunately, that's kind of hard to do when your dad won't let you leave your house in the forest because of your magical powers. So, Jensen spends most of his days with no one but his pet hedgehog to keep him company. At least, until a guy named Jared stumbles along and offers to help him realize his dream. (A J2 spin on Disney's Tangled.) ~50k~

A Spotlight On These Desolate Dreams{Masterpost} by _mournthewicked-

Summary:- In high school, Jared Padalecki had it all. He was surrounded with rich, famous, beautiful friends and partied with young Hollywood's elite. As if all of that wasn't exciting enough, he used the tricks he learned from his grandfather to become an amateur sleuth with his billionaire best friend, Jensen Ackles, playing the role of trusty sidekick. But when he got in over his head and lost everything he once held dear, he knew that it was time to move on. That was ten years ago. Now he lives the lonely life of a hardboiled private investigator on the streets of Manhattan, and his fabulous past is nothing but a distant memory. That is, until a tragedy forces him to return to California and the world he left behind. Between juggling rabid paparazzi, sarcastic detectives, and a spurned ex-best friend, it's a wonder that he can possibly find the time to solve a murder that has left the city of angels reeling. ~50k~

Break Me, Shake Me, Hate Me, Take Me Over by orphan_account- (sorry, I can’t access the author’s account but the story’s link still works!)

Summary:- When recklessness, alcohol and a bullet to his hip sees his police career end in disgrace, alpha Jensen Ackles resigns himself to a life spent in the dregs of a bottle, aimless and filled with regrets, watching as the bills and eviction notices pile up. That is, until he's offered a job and lodging with beta lawyer Samantha Smith, as a pseudo bouncer/admin worker. It's a far cry from his previous life, but it might just be what Jensen needs to drag himself from the dark place he's in. Not only that, but little does Jensen realise that taking on the position will bring him face to face with his biggest regret; the person he walked away from three years ago in what was the worst mistake of his life... ~70k~

Whiskey River, You’re All I Got by whisperedstory-

Summary:- Jensen's life revolves around The Whiskey Sour, the bar he inherited from his grandfather nine years ago. But with too few customers and not nearly enough profit, things are taking a turn for the worse. And then Jared Padalecki walks into Jensen's life and changes everything. ~19k~

Out Of The Silence by annie46-

Summary:- When hardened, but lonely cop, Jensen Ackles meets Jared Padalecki in his family’s diner, he doesn’t realise that his life is about to change drastically. Jared is a complete innocent, deaf, mute and unable to communicate, he needs a friend. Can Jensen be that man? ~the word count wasn’t mentioned but if i had to take a guess, I’d say something between 20k and 30k~

The Execution Of The Last Steal by soulmatecest-

Summary:- Anyone who meets Jared Padalecki would think he has the perfect life: a college degree, a normal life and an apparently perfect fiancé, Stephen Amell, the son of a Senator with a bright future. Except for one thing: it’s all based on a lie. Five years ago, he created a new identity for himself to cut all ties to his criminal past and ex-boyfriend Jensen Ackles, a world-renowned thief. But Jared can’t run forever. A threat from his past comes back looking for him and the only person who can help him is the man he thought he left behind forever, the only person Jared’s never been able to forget. Incredibly charming and just as cocky, Jensen Ackles is a thief that is too good at his job for his own good, who would do anything to protect Jared now that his life is in danger. Years have gone by, but he has never been able to forget Jared either. And perhaps now that they are forced to escape together, Jensen might be able to do what he’s best at: steal Jared’s heart one last time and win back the only person Jensen has ever loved. ~97k~

Bring Me To Life by alienat-

Summary:- Jared’s a shy young man, whose life has never been easy. His father hates him, his mother drinks her sorrows away and his husband Paul treats him like he is nothing more than a beautiful toy. When his husband has to go away on a business trip to Europe for two months, he sends Jared away to a ranch in the middle of nowhere to keep him under control. There, Jared meets people who show him what love, friendship and loyalty mean for the first time in his life. Can he escape his life and finally find some love and happiness for himself? ~81k~

Gunpoint{Series} by felisblanco-

Summary:- Jensen got his childhood stolen away from him when he was ten years old. Along with his memory, his voice and every emotion that wasn’t fear, hatred or anger. Question is, can Jared help him get any of it back? And more importantly, does Jensen really want him to?

Election Day by morganaDW(morgana07)-

Summary:- Jensen's running for President with the deck already stacked against him. He's come out as gay while serving in Congress, his Vice President is a colorful Misha & his family has disowned him over his choice of partners. But that's not the worst of it...On Election Day when he should be focused on winning Jared ends up shot after stepping in front of a killer's gun to save some school children. Election Day is important but to Jensen nothing is more important than Jared and he doesn't care who knows it or if he loses so long as he can be with him. It's Jensen who winds up surprised in the end. ~8k~

A Boy At An Open Door by poor_choices-

Summary:- Jensen Ackles' life is all sorted out, until a blast from the past shows up and makes him realize he's not as happy as he thought. ~10k~

Beautiful Disaster by nyoxicity-

Summary:- Rock Band AU. Jensen’s the lead guitarist in the number one rock band in the country. Justin’s the lead singer, and they’ve been doing this together since middle-school, been together since just after high school. As on top of the world as they are, Jensen’s starting to become disillusioned with the lifestyle and his crumbling relationship with Justin. And then he meets a new roadie on the crew named Jared who’s got a voice like an angel and a heart to match, and everything starts to change. ~96k~

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And that’s the end of it!!! These are absolutely beautiful, gorgeous and epic fanfictions and will keep you buys for days! Hope y’all enjoy these, I’m off to read more sksksksksk. Let me know if a link doesn’t work, if you like any of these in my inbox and if y’all want a part 2! Peace and J2 5 ever!!!

#j2 #j2 fic recs #j2 recs #j2 fic rec #j2 rec list #fanfiction #jensen ackles #jared padalecki #me as a stan doing my civil duty #ENJOY IT J2 NATION #!!!

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cockasinthebird · 4 years ago

Text

“I pray you, do not fall in love with me, for I am falser than vows made in wine.” -William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 3 Scene 5

Brown and blue both stare up at the many a love declarations on the underside of the bleachers of Hawkins High. Football practice has begun, along with their ever so faithful cheerleaders, and while Robin was here just for how short those skirts went, Steve was here for both those legs, and the sweaty muscles of the blonde haired quarter back; how he shone like diamonds underneath the ruthless summer sky.

Robin hands him the roach, and he has possibly never felt more at peace than now, in the shade with the occasional breeze. But of course, he thought so every time the two of them decided to get high and lie in the grass.

“Tommy + Carol 4 Ever,” Steve reads out loud. “Fucking asshole.”

“Aw, does poor Steve still feel abandoned?” Robin pouts falsely and puts both hands behind her head.

“Shithead was my best friend for most of our lives, and now he's off somewhere licking Billy Hargrove's boot.” He frowns whilst pressing the final embers of their joint into the grass.

“You're just jealous,” she laughs mockingly at him and turns her head to peek out through the seats.

And Steve leans up on his elbows to look past her and in the same direction, to where he sees Billy Hargrove tearing off his helmet with a victorious smile, mullet done up in a low bun, bangs clinging wetly to his forehead.

“Fuck no,” he lies.

“Come on, Dingus.” Robin knocks their shoes together. “You know you can't lie to me.”

“I can try,” he huffs a laugh and looks at how she mimics him genuinely.

“You think I got it any better?” her laugh turns to a scoff and points up. “Tammy Thompson loves John Johnson.” And there's a deep silence for a few short seconds as she keeps her finger in the direction of that etching. “Who the fuck names their child John Johnson?”

Steve cannot contain his chortle, and she is right behind with her usual snort; the one that only comes forth when they're this high.

“It would be like-” Steve takes a deep inhale. “If you were named Robin Robinson!”

“Or you Steve Stevenson!”

“Is that a real name?!”

“Y-yes?” Robin fights against the grin that wants to spread all too wide, and looks at him. “Robert Louis Stevenson!”

“Who?” Steve keeps breathing slowly to try and calm down from something that isn't actually that funny, but when you got bloodshot eyes like these, everything is.

“The famous writer? He wrote Treasure Island and Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.”

Steve leans up on his elbows again to stare down at her with the most bewildered look this illiterate teen can manage. “Mr Hyde as in... our chemistry teacher?”

“Oh...” Robin's blue blue eyes grow as wide as they can. “My God... Steve... No wonder you're failing literally every class.”

And his expression falls from confused to somewhat offended, but it is the inevitable truth. “It's fine,” he says with nary a worry, “I will get a job at my father's office as... I dunno, coffee guy? Mailman?”

“You really think he'd put you in charge of something as important as their postal service?”

Rather than come up with a sensible reply to that remark, he simply grabs a fistful of grass and throws it at her.

He smiles, she laughs, and the both of them settle down once more with only the loud cheers from the girls in uniform to fill the comfortable silence they find themselves in again, as they continue reading everything that's been carved and written into the far too old wood.

Steve's name can be found numerous times, both in forms of compliments-

“I wish Steve Harrington would notice me.”

“Mrs Harrington is my dream job.”

“Steve Harrington the Keg King.”

All surrounded by hearts.

On one step it reads, “Steve 'The Hair' Harrington” in suspiciously familiar handwriting.

He used to bring girls down here, too, and would have them watch as he reached high above them and wrote his name + theirs.

Steve + Laurie. Crossed out. Steve + Amy. Crossed out. Steve + Becky. Crossed out.

He never got to bring Nancy here. Brought Robin here originally for the same reason as the rest, but she was quick to tell him the truth as he stood too close.

At least they remained friends.

“Is your name up there somewhere?” he asks her, having never actually found it.

“I'm a band dweeb, what do you think?” she sighs but acts like it doesn't bother her.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Nope,” she lies and pops the p.

And of course he doesn't believe her, but he considers himself too nice to press her on any of it.

Silence drags on for what feels like eternity crammed into one minute, and he's got something on his mind, but has absolutely no clue how to work it into conversation all casual like, because it's kinda a big deal, but he doesn't want to seem a fool for thinking so.

So he tries to just flat out say it, “Robin?”

“Steve.”

“You're... smart, right?” He feels himself failing at just saying what he's thinking.

“Smarter than you, although that's not saying much,” she chuckles out and looks to him, but he seems... nervous, and she stops. “What's up, dingus?”

“I... I got a note in my locker today, and I don't really know what it means,” Steve speaks hesitantly and rips small pieces off of a blade of grass.

Robin's brows quirks up. “Oh? And you want me to decipher it for you?”

He sits up far too fast, and even though his body remains still, the world spins for longer than what is possible. “Would you?” There is such a brightness to his tone.

“Sure, what does it say?” She gets up as well and crosses her legs.

Steve fishes out a paper that has become impossibly crumbled up in his front pocket, to a point where the letters written in beautiful cursive is almost unintelligible.

“I love you more than words can wield the matter; dearer than eyesight, space and liberty.”

And while she turns the paper around and re-reads those words, Steve stares unblinkingly so at her.

“So?” he finally asks, bursting with anticipation.

“So, it's a love letter.” She hands it back, and he looks at the paper with such admiration, as if he had forgotten he was worthy of such, just to be reminded of it now. “It's Shakespeare, King Lear. It means that she loves you more than words can describe.”

At that he looks up, beaming with elation as he asks for reassurance, “Seriously?”

“Yup.” She is clearly far less excited, but there's optimism to her tone, to know that he might find what they're both longing for, whether out loud or in secret.

“Someone wrote me a love note...” His smile wide with shocked disbelief.

“Congratulations.” She rolls her eyes although with raised lips, and lies down again.

The very next day, shortly after lunch has begun, he finds another in his locker and runs to where Robin would be eating her lunch alone in the unattended library.

Steve slams down the paper in front of her, and she pauses just before biting into her boring ham sandwich.

“Well well well lover boy,” she mocks lightly and places her food back down on the tray. “I assume you're in need of my service once again?”

The chair next to her screeches across the floor as he sits down with a hard bump. “Yes, and it's the same handwriting as last, so that means it's the same girl, right?”

“Hey now, I haven't agreed to anything yet!” She slaps her hand down on top of the paper, and smirks. “I will help you with this, again, if you buy me pizza after school.”

“Yeah, deal, whatever, just-” He gestures wildly to the neatly folded paper. “Tell me what it means!”

Robin shakes her head and slumps back into her seat; slipping down a bit with her legs splayed out all comfortable and taking up far too much space.

“Love is blind, and lovers cannot see, the pretty follies that themselves commit.”

She nods for a moment in thought, fully ignoring the way Steve's eyes could drill holes in her skull.

“I think it's from The Merchant of Venice. It means... something like, how love makes you act different?”

And since she seems satisfied with that, nods more and lets out a little “Yeah,” so is he.

“Okay, so, someone that acts differently around me?”

Robin taps her temple with a blackened nail and continues nodding like it's all he understands. Still, to ensure he gets her point, says, “You got it.”

Now it is his turn to slump into his chair, but far more confused. “How... how am I supposed to know that they act differently around me? Isn't that how I'll always have seen them, then?”

She raises her brows at that and sits up a bit more straight. “How astute!”

As if he knows what that means.

Through the weekend he waits on his bed, each note in hand and smiling so wide his cheeks grow sore.

Two love letters in two days? They are meant for him, right? This girl didn't accidentally put it in the wrong locker, right?

Steve catches himself briefly hoping she's beautiful, but pushes that aside by the fact that she's so poetically inclined, so sweet and shy that her looks hardly matters, for her choice of words warms his heart and makes it beat in a way that he has oh so missed.

Another thought is what if it's Robin, but he shakes his head violently at that stupid little thing, because no, she's his best friend and that's all they'll ever be, and he truly is happy with that. But everyone gets wrong and bad ideas from time to time, so he won't fault himself for her name popping up, as he mentally goes through a list of all the girls he knows. Or thinks he knows.

And though he tries to distract himself with TV and swimming in his pool and letting Robin paint his toenails, Monday always feels so far away.

It is the first thing he does when he shows up at school; pushes his way through his peers to fling open his locker, and sure enough a little note slips out.

He skims it for just a second before he rushes off to stand by Robin's locker for when she eventually moves to it and shoves him aside.

“Another?” she asks with her head in her locker as she rummages for gum.

“I knew she was gonna leave me another! I could feel it in my body the entire weekend!” his tone pitched high with excitement.

“Ew, gross, I don't need to know that!” she jokes and yanks it from his grasp.

“Come what sorrow can, it cannot countervail the exchange of joy, that one short minute gives me in her sight.”

And Steve folds it, lovingly so, before placing it inside his wallet, and thankfully he doesn't have to wait long for a more modern translation of it.

“Something something about how her pain and misery goes away in your presence; in the presence of a loved one. Romeo and Juliet, which is not a happy love story!” she says ardently and points a stern finger at him for emphasis.

“Okay, but does that mean we have classes together at least then?” Steve shrugs and runs a hand through his shiny hair.

“Probably? Or maybe some extra curricular activity,” Robin's tone careless and she starts down the hall, with Steve right behind.

“But the only other extra whatever I take is basket.”

“So maybe your admirer is a guy.”

He shakes his head with conviction. “Nah, I doubt that completely, I mean you've seen the handwriting! And what guy is into Shakespeare?”

“Anything is possible Steve, don't be so close minded.”

For once he is early to first-period history class, and he sits on the desk Robin usually occupies, to which she responds with throwing her bag into his lap, accompanied by a cocked brow and strong stare.

Steve doesn't say a thing, simply lifts up a fourth note, and she snags with from his fingers with an exasperated sigh.

“I would not wish any companion in the world but you.”

She groans out loud now and pushes him off of her table. “Come on dingus, this one is easy! You cannot be this stupid.”

“Just tell me what it is!” he says as he shuffles into the seat in front of hers.

“She only wants you, no one else, Jesus.”

“Oh,” he breathes out, his wide grin that of pure joy, and although this is a tiring thing to be bothered with every day now, she does appreciate his happiness to some extend.

Wednesday morning Robin is already by Steve's locker, arms crossed and a friendly smile painted across her face.

“Let's see what your stalker has come up with this time,” she says and leans away so that he can twist the lock in the right order.

And today it is a far shorter note.

“Love hath made thee a tame snake.”

She doesn't bother waiting before saying, “Love will humble and soften even the most hardened individual.” And there's a glint in her eyes, so short and easily missed, revealing that she might have an idea as to which hardened individual this could be. Not that she hadn't thought about him before already.

For she had seen his copy of As You Like It by Shakespeare fall from his bag in English Literature, but it is not her place to out anyone.

“That's a weird one, right?” His brows furrowed as he awaits affirmation. “Hardened individual? What does that even mean?”

“Steve, I-” She rubs her eyes hard and nods. “Yeah, it is a weird one. But it probably means someone who's acting tough, but in truth softens around you.”

He folds it back up and slips it into his wallet together with the other four.

“Tomorrow, then,” Robin says and pats his shoulder a few times before heading to class.

Steve stays still for a moment, looking at how the five notes stretches the leather of his wallet. His thumb runs over their ripped edges, all seemingly from the same piece of paper, thinking about the dainty fingers that must hold the ballpoint pen to write him such loving words.

Cheeks flushed, smile tender, eyes soft, he wanders towards class as well.

Months ago when he and Robin became best friends, she took a very slight interest in him and his education, because he very clearly needs help with school, and she's suspicious of the fact that he might be dyslexic, but when asked about it he gets mad.

So instead she demands food and favors from him whenever he starts screwing up in school again, starts falling behind, or shows up late to class. And of course he has slept through his alarm for the first time in weeks on this Thursday, the one day of two where they have first-period together, and now he'll have to pay for dinner at the diner, but he has a good excuse!

Sat up all night with several books written by none other than William Shakespeare that he had checked out at the library.

He's hungry and tired and in a goddamn hurry to get to class ASAP; the hallways empty and silent save for the occasional teacher yelling at an unruly student, but even that he can hardly hear over the beating of his heart, which is just great, because now he'll spend all day with floppy hair and reeking of sweat.

He just has to make a quick stop by his locker to see if there's a new note, the only thing that truly matters and overshadows the importance of getting passing grades or upholding his deal with Robin.

Around the next corner and... and...

And it never dawned on him at any point, even with Robin's constant droning of “Guys can read Shakespeare, too!” that his secret admirer might not be a girl at all. Maybe he was just so stuck in the expected reality of the world, the one he's so used to, before Robin helped him see the light, to help him realize that there's other options than gay or straight.

No he never even bothered thinking that way, till he sees Billy Hargrove slip something into his locker.

#Harringrove #My Writing #Steve Harrington #Robin Buckley #Billy Hargrove #Shakespeare #Fluffy fluff fluff #pining #I got drunk last night and listened to #twelfth night #And was like #Poet Billy? Poet Billy.#I think I've seen some other people talk about their love for that #and altho out of character imo #it was nice and fun #I write a lot of smut so stuff like this is RARE and a breath of fresh air to me #10/10 would write Poet Billy again #Also dumbass oblivious Steve #too much fun

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sams-sass · 4 years ago

Text

All In My Head

Hey guys! This is not what I usually write at all, but I got a really good request from @allthings-sammy and I am always up for a challenge.

Summary: This is a fic told from Sam’s point of view through the Gadreel incident. Specifically, when Kevin dies and after he exits his body.

****Warnings: This does not paint Dean well. If you are a total Dean fan, I do not recommend you read this.****

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Sam slammed his fists against the door. His body vibrating from the force. His breath was loud and heavy in his chest as he continued to throw his fists and feet at the closed door.

“No!” He screamed into the black room. The vast and empty darkness didn’t answer him, just glared back into him with its deafening silence. He watched his own body move around the bunker. Watched his hands touch his clothing, his food, his everything. Saw his hands place his favorite jacket across his shoulders, but couldn’t feel the warmth. He was trapped. Gadreel trapped him away in the deepest recesses of his mind. His hands slid over the sigil, altering it slightly. He heard Gadreel talking as if he was Sam.

“Dean! Don’t listen, it's not me!” Sam screamed. He slammed his body against the door, it didn’t even move in its frame. He watched as his hand covered Kevin’s head. How his eyes lit up and scream tore from his throat.

“No! Please no! No!” Sam screamed in shock and horror, listening to his voice echoing all around him. He watched the life leave Kevin’s body. His voice got louder and louder around him until there was nothing but screaming. Sam covered his ears, falling to his knees and closing his eyes. Then there was silence. He dropped his hands and looked around to see himself back in the bunker. He looked at his hands as if he was seeing them for the first time. His heart rate began to slow as the familiarity of the bunker calmed him.

“Hey.” Dean greeted him, placing a laptop on the table.

“Dean. What happened?” Sam stood, walking over to his brother.

“Uh, nothing man. I came in here to tell you about the case I found and you were kneeling of the floor.” Dean furrowed his eyebrows at his brother.

“A case?” Sam asked, confusion across his face. There was something he couldn’t remember. Where was he before he came in here? Why does this feel like it shouldn’t be happening?

“Yes. A case, as in our job.” Dean moved his hand in between them.

“Right, yeah ok. What is it?” Sam shook his head, something still felt out of place. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.

“Cheerleaders.” Dean raised his eyebrows and nodded his head, flashing Sam a toothy grin. Sam chuckled and then sat down at the table to do some research. He read over the article Dean had found, trying to focus. He had been struggling lately. He felt like he was beginning to lose his mind. He would fall in and out of focus. There would be gaps of time missing from his day. He would suddenly be in a room and have no idea how he got there. Dean was talking to him strangely as well. As if he sometimes was talking to someone else. He felt really good, almost too good. Charged and ready all the time. He no longer had the ache in his bones. He knew he should feel beat up and spent after the trials, but he didn’t. He shook his head again and continued to read up for the case. He licked his lips and ran his hand through his hair, concentrating. His hands flipped the pages, frustration growing within him.

“It just doesn’t make any sense. Why is this ghoul only chomping on dead cheerleaders?” He said aloud to Dean, somewhere else in the bunker.

“Hey you wanna beer?” Dean yelled.

“No, I’m fine.” Sam said, still looking at the book.

“Not bad.” The familiar voice spoke behind him. Sam immediately bolted out of his seat and faced Crowley.

“Dean. Dean!” He screamed for his brother.

“Poughkeepsie.” Crowley said, his voice was low and sure. Sam’s muscles contracted and his eyes shot to Crowley's. He shouldn’t know that word. How could he possibly know what that means?

“How do you know that word?” Sam asked him, standing up to face him.

“Because Dean sent me, Bullwinkle. The real Dean. I'll make this quick, you’ve been possessed by an angel. He has got you packed away in some dusty corner of your own mind and I’m here to break you out.” Crowley said quickly, moving his hands as if Sam knew exactly what to do. Things began to connect within Sam’s mind. Puzzle pieces coming together. Things that didn’t add up were now being to make perfect sense. He didn’t know how to believe it. He couldn’t believe it. How could he be possessed by an angel? He never allowed one in.

“Seriously.” He said to Crowley, hoping this was all a joke.

“Fine.” Crowley said reaching for Sam’s gun on the table. “We’ll do this the fun way.” He lifted the gun and shot Sam in the chest. Sam flinched and shook from the force, but nothing happened. He looked down at the bullet hole and felt his heart drop in his chest. It was true. It was all true.

“See? Not real, like I said. I know how possession works, Sam. You’ve seen everything that he's seen, even if you can’t remember. So, what I need you to do, I need you to remember.” Crowley looked at him with pleading and wide eyes. Sam felt the memories begin to flood his mind. Him in the hospital bed. Him slicing someone's throat. Dean’s beaten face, looking at him with worry. Finally, Kevin with glowing and burnt out eyes. His body going limp under Sam’s hand. Sam closed his eyes and felt the shame wash over him. Filling every ounce of his body. He felt the ache in his bones again. Felt the guilt weighing down his chest. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the table.

“Did I kill Kevin?” He asked, not having the strength to look Crowley in the eye.

“No. You didn’t, he did.” Crowley assured him. Sam knew he was right, that it wasn’t him. That it was the angel possessing him, but it still felt like he had done it. It still felt like he was the one who had taken a friend's life. He couldn’t catch his breath. Anger and remorse filled his body, leaving him heavy and used. “You need to take control, Sam. Blow it up, and cast that punk ass holy roller out!” Crowley yelled, his voice rising in pitch. Sam looked over at him. Another man was behind him. He knew it was him. He knew he was the one who had tricked him from the beginning. His eyebrows knitted together on his forehead and he rose to his full height. Squaring his shoulders and narrowing his eyes at the intruder.

“What?” Crowley asked. Sam looked down at him and then back to the other man. “Oh, bullocks.” Crowley said, tilting his head down.

“Hello, Sam.” The man spoke. A chill went up Sam’s spine.

“Who are you?” Sam asked him, feeling his muscles tensing.

“His name is Gadreel, the original chump.” Crowley said, squaring up to Gadreel. Sam thought that name sounded familiar, he couldn’t remember exactly. He looked between him and Crowley as they exchanged words. How Gadreel was planning on bringing the angels back to heaven. Sam looked down in confusion, that was supposed to be impossible. Crowley punched Gadreel in the face. Gadreel recoiled and hit Crowley, sending him across the table and onto the floor. Gadreel began to kick and beat Crowley while he was on the ground. Sam stood and watched as the walls closed in around him. His breathing picked up and his heartrate skyrocketed. He raced over and tackled Gadreel who quickly threw Sam off of him. His body hit the floor and he knew that he was in for a fight. He tried to regain his strength when Gadreel spoke.

“Give up, boy. You’re not strong enough.” He sent a kick into Gadreel’s face, sending him stumbling backwards.

“Take control, Sam. Cast him out!” Crowley spoke from the floor. Sam tried to get up and fight.

“Get out of my-” He was cut off by Gadreel pinning him back to the floor. His hand wrapped around Sam’s neck, cutting off his air supply. Sam reached up and grabbed his throat as well.

“You sure you want me to go? Maybe I’m the only thing holding you together. I leave you might die.” His words sparked something in Sam. His whole life he had felt like he could never use his full strength. Even with hunting he always held back just enough. The rage and guilt tormenting him filled his body and he knew he had to use everything he had. He reached for the closest object and smashed Gadreel over the head with it. Sam then pushed Gadreel’s body off of him and stood up. Feeling a strength, he had long forgotten about. His teeth gritted together as his foot came slamming down on Gadreel’s chest.

“I said, get the hell out.” Sam’s blood was pumping fast in his veins. His skin was tight against his tense muscles. His chest rose and fell with loud heavy breaths. And then suddenly he was in a chair. His arms tied down. His mouth opened and it felt as if a cloud of cold fog was being pulled out of him, deep within his gut. Then came the fiery smoke of Crowley being forced out as well. Sam’s body slumped into itself in the chair. His head lolled to the side slightly, exhaustion evident on his face. Cas and Dean ran to him. Cas taking out the metal pins as Dean undid the chains keeping him in the chair.

“Cas?” Sam looked up at the angel, confusion in his expression. Cas hooked Sam’s arm over his shoulders and they limped out together. Cas helped him into the car as quickly as they could and the three of them pulled away. The car ride was quiet and tense. There was no talking, no music, no sound except the engine. A sound that usually calmed and centered Sam now made his blood run cold. All he could think about was how he had been lied to for months. All he could hear was Dean’s voice telling him that he was just tired. Dismissing his claims of feeling off. How he was missing time. How he knew something wasn’t right. How there were all these unexplained things happening around him and no one could give him and answer. He closed his eyes and felt the realization of how this one lie cost his relationship with his brother. He knew he wasn’t perfect. He knew he had made mistakes and trusted the wrong person. This felt selfish. This felt like Dean did it so he didn’t have to be alone. It wasn’t for Sam. It was for Dean. The car pulled over to a bridge and they all got out. The rain was falling around them. Sam felt it sliding down his hair and on his shoulder. Cas healed him, making his headache disappear, but leaving all his other aches. His shoulders were slumped in exhaustion and betrayal.

“Alright, let me have it.” Dean said, moving to look Sam in the eye.

“What do you want me to say? That I'm pissed? I think you know that.” Sam looked at him, his jaw twitching in anger.

“I did what I had to do.” Dean said, his eyes narrowing.

“You say that like it solves everything, like I will just completely understand and thank you. You tricked me and lied to me for months because you didn’t want to be alone. You can't handle being alone.” Sam stood a little taller, letting his anger take him.

“I saved your life.” Dean argued back.

“I was willing to die, Dean! I was willing to take that sacrifice and use it to make the world better! We could have done what we always wanted to do; we could have closed off hell forever! I could have done so much good. I could have given back so much that I took when I started the apocalypse and you didn’t let me. You didn’t let me because you were too scared of being alone! Now Kevin is dead, Cas is hurt, and the world is still in the toilet. All for me to live a few more years? Once again, you showed me how much you don’t trust me. When really Dean you’re the one I can't trust anymore.” Sam pointed his finger at his brother.

“Sam, you would have done the same for me and you know it!” Dean yelled back, his voice deep.

“No, I wouldn’t have. I would not have betrayed you by allowing an angel to possess you for months and lying to you about it. Do you know what I have been going through? How crazy I have felt? I thought I was losing my mind, Dean. I was beginning to think that something was really wrong with me. I didn’t trust myself and you did that to me. You made me doubt myself because I thought that you would never hurt me this way. I thought that you may lie to me here and there, but you would never let me think I was actually losing it. After everything we have been through. After all the bad we have struggled through, I could always trust you to feel like I had a partner in this never-ending fight. You took that from me.” Sam spread his arms out wide, his voice growing in volume as his rage and sadness took over. Dean became another person that betrayed Sam. Another person who Sam had given everything to, only to have it slapped back in his face once again.

“I’m leaving anyway. I’m finding Gadreel on my own.” Dean said, turning on his heel.

“As long as it doesn’t include me, I don’t care what you do.” Sam said, knowing full well it would crush Dean. He watched his brother stop walking for a moment, letting Sam’s words sink into him. Sam thought he might turn around, but he didn’t. Dean continued to walk away and get in the impala. Sam turned to Cas who gave him a somber look. The two of them got in Cas’s car and made their way to the bunker.

“Sam, I know what he did was wrong, but he was only trying to save you.” Cas said, looking over at Sam.

“He saved me not thinking about that I could have saved the world. I could have given some good.” Sam said, never moving his eyes from looking out the window. Cas pulled up to the bunker and they silently made their way to their rooms. Sam locked his door, something he never did, and sat down on his bed. He looked down at his hands and all he could see was them hovering over Kevin’s black hair. Sam closed his eyes and bowed his head, paying his own respects to Kevin. It wasn’t until he felt a tear against his lips that he realized he was crying. He wiped away his tears and placed his elbows on his thighs, holding his head up with his hands. He was so tired. He could feel the debilitating fatigue in his body. He took in a deep breath and picked his head up, knowing what he had to do. He had to find Gadreel. He had to set this right. Dean didn’t get to kill Gadreel. This was Sam’s fight.

The next morning Sam got up and got dressed as he always did. He made his way down the hallway when something stopped him. The door to Dean’s room was open ajar. Sam peaked inside, seeing it just as Dean left it. He walked in and tried to put himself in his brother’s frame of mind. He understood the desperation Dean felt. He understood the fear of facing this world alone. What he didn’t understand was the lying. The complete deception from Dean. He walked over to Dean’s desk and found the box, taking it for himself. He brought it into the kitchen and opened it. His fingers flipped through the pictures until he found the one he wanted. It was him and Dean at Bobby’s house. Half-eaten sandwiches and almost empty beers sat in front of them. Sam stared at the picture for what felt like hours. He looked so happy in the picture. His eyes glued to Dean. There was not an ounce of distrust in him those few years ago. Sam dropped the picture in the box and closed his eyes. He knew he could never go back to that complete trust he had for his brother. That was long gone. He slammed the box shut and placed it back in Dean’s room, closing the door behind him. He moved to the library and sat down at the table. The ache in his bones was back. The pounding in his head was still there. He felt used and broken. He felt stupid for believing he could feel so good after going through such a traumatic experience. His chest was tight and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air. He felt like a fish trying to live on air.

The days turned to night and Sam would try and find peace in sleeping. His slumber often interrupted by the visions of Kevins lifeless body falling to the floor. He would often give up on sleeping and make his way back to the library to read anything he could. His mind felt foggy and he often found himself staring at the same page for longer than necessary. If you asked him what he just read, he would have no idea. He couldn’t get the same thing out of his head, someone else used my body for months. Someone else saw what I saw. Knows what I was thinking. There was no getting over that. No moving on.

As Sam was often asked to do, he forgave. He forgave, but he never forgot. The dishonesty and the deception always remained. He loved his brother, but there are somethings that one cannot simply overlook.

@allthings-sammy

#supernatural #SPN #SPN FANDOM #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #SPN Family #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #spn imagine #Sam Winchester #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester gadreel #dark spn #anti dean winchester

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harmonie-writes · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Need a Hero Prologue

Johnny x reader

Genre: fluff with a smidge *cough* lot *cough* of angst

Superhero AU

AN/Warnings: there is a lot of background that leads up to the actual story. Language, minor violence, slight mind control

Summary: not everyone has superhero powers, and those who do don’t always become heros unless they absolutely have to.

Word count: ~3.1k

----------

You’ve always known that your childhood friend was blessed with super strength. It was especially apparent when your best friend, a four year old boy at the time, managed to rip off the door from your little play set outside while playing house. Let’s just say the “husband” of your pretend home had to help you paint new doors multiple times to replace the others.

You on the other hand didn’t have any super special talent or lift a car without the car jack. You were just you, Johnny’s regular childhood best friend. But that didn’t change anything, at least not until high school.

“I’m going to do it.” You looked at Johnny like he grew a second head.

“Excuse me, what?” Flicking your forehead Johnny slid into the chair next to you at your usual table in the cafeteria.

Rolling his eyes he leaned in towards you, “I said, “I’m going to become a superhero”.” Leaning back he took in your slightly confused, but also slightly worried expression.

“Johnny I love you and everything, but where the hell did you get this idea?” You asked eyes skimming every inch of his face for some tale-tell sign. And find something you did. You noticed the slight glance of Johnny’s eyes land somewhere behind you. Brows furrowing you turned slightly to see the largest clique on campus, and the head cheerleader shot him a wink with an exaggerated hair flip. Of fucking course that’s what would make him do something so dangerous out of the blue… you had a small frown painted on your lips when you turned back around only to see Johnny send a wink back. Slumping down in your chair you placed a hand over your eyes as you felt your chest tighten slightly. “Have you actually considered this or is this just to get a pretty girl's attention?” You accused a slight edge seeping into your voice.

“(Y/N), everything will be fine. I'm practically bulletproof,” he rolled his eyes as he reclined in his chair.

“Johnny, just because you have super strength doesn’t mean you are bullet proof.” You saw the glint in his eye that he was about to start an argument but you quickly stood up. “We can talk about this after practice, alright?” You told him with a sigh as you gathered your books and tray. Johnny closed his mouth and gave you a small nod as he watched you disappear through the throng of students.

——

Lacing your spikes you made your way out to the track ready to burn off the anxiety you still felt creeping at the back of your mind, and what a great way to distract yourself than to sprint around the track. Getting into the starting block you felt the tingle of heat of the track run through your fingertips. Lifting your head all you saw was the endless expanse of the seventh lane before you closed your eyes and waited for the blank of the starting pistol to sound. The bang resounded in your ears as you took off from the starting block, but you felt overly warm. The next thing you knew you had finished your lap and looked at the coach who was keeping time only to see surprise etched into their face. Looking around you realized that everyone was looking at you that way and the other students from your heat had stopped running. “What?” All your coach did was flash the stopwatch in their hand. 0.02 seconds. Your jaw dropped before looking down at your spikes, or what was left of them.

“I thought you said you didn’t have a power,” your coach was still recovering from shock.

“I-I don’t, or at least I didn’t,” you mumble as you tug the end up your ponytail between your fingers.

——

Flopping on your bed you card your fingers through your hair before the sound of your phone went off. “He’s like clockwork,” you mutter reaching your phone and answering, not bothering looking at the photo ID. With a sigh you hold it up to your ear, “Hi Johnny.”

Wow, I’m hurt. You sound like you don’t enjoy when I call.

You could hear the fake hurt in his voice. “It’s not that, I’m just tired.” It wasn’t a complete lie, you were tired from everything that happened during the day up until now.

So, about earlier I-

“I need to tell you something.” You didn’t want to cut him off but at the same time it was your goal to prolong the inevitable.

Uh ok, what is it?

Taking a deep breath you closed your eyes, “IthinkIhavesuperspeed.”

What was that? You think you have what?

An exasperated groan past your lips as you ran a hand down your face, “I said, “I think I have super speed”.”

What no way! I would’ve known that by now!

“Johnny I’m serious,” you whine hoping he’d actually take you seriously.

I’ll believe it when I see it.

“Fine.” Getting up you did just that and made sure you were still on the phone with him. Racing outside you couldn’t help but watch the little blue lighting dance across your skin as you raced to his house, greeting his parents as you sped up the stairs to his room.

“Hi,” you gave him a coy smile as you slid into his room. Johnny rolled his eyes as he spun in his desk chair to face you.

“C’mon, you live next door that doesn’t prove you have super speed.”

Shoving his shoulder lightly you rolled your eyes, “Ok then mister buff guy, how do I prove it?” Johnny’s eyes lit up getting a brilliant idea as a smirk slowly slid into place.

“If you’re really that fast then bring take out from somewhere and I’ll set up a movie to watch.”

“Challenge accepted muscles,” you giggled, zipping down the stairs. Oh you had an idea that would definitely make him believe you, and it involved the small family owned pizza place in New York.

— —

Johnny has barely picked out a Netflix movie when you came waltzing into his room with a large pizza box. His eyes grew to the size of the moon seeing the name of the company on the box. “No way, we went there for our class trip two years ago. You actually ran to New York?” Johnny’s eyes were like small galaxies in awe at your new found ability.

“I figured this would get my point across pretty well,” you shrugged, sitting down on his bed as you flipped open the pizza box.

“I will never question you again, ever,” Johnny said as he took a slice from the box. You both ate in comfortable silence as whatever movie played on his tv. “Does this mean if I want something you can go get it for me?” Johnny asked, giving you large puppy dog eyes.

“Maybe… only if you’re buying,” you gave him a large shit eating grin as you watched the giddy smile slip from his lips as he shoved you. At least for the time being, you were happy that you stopped your best friend from running headlong into the dangerous world of crime fighting.

——

If only you knew how little your opinion or feelings mattered in a few short weeks.

——

Fridays were always yours and Johnny’s hang out day and you were excited for the plans you made coincidently the same night you gained your speed. You were almost to Johnny’s car when you noticed him lip locked with the cheer captain before she slid into the passenger seat of his car. Gripping your backpack a little tighter you raced home ready to dive under the covers of your bed.

Johnny’s eyes caught the familiar electric, blue streak before averting his attention to his current company, the inkling of forgetting something tugging fibers in the back of his mind. Whatever it was couldn’t have been that important right?

——

Glaring at your phone in your hand you looked at the door seeing an all too familiar silhouette outside the glass of the front door. Exhaling loudly through your nose you let your fingers grip the door handle before opening it.

“What do you want?” You watched the small glint of confusion pass over your best friends eyes before it was masked with anger.

“What do you mean ‘what do I want’? Where the hell is this coming from?” Johnny furrowed his brows.

Crossing your arms over your chest and a none-too-pleased look plastered on your face as you stated the obvious, “I don’t know, does Friday ring a bell?”

The frustrated wrinkles that were etched on Johnny’s face slowly fade away as he realized what he forgot on Friday. Running a hand through his hair he sighed realizing that’s what he forgot. “Oh.” Johnny looked up when he heard the hurt in your voice.

“Was I really not even worth getting a text saying you wanted a raincheck or that we couldn’t watch our movie this weekend?”

“It’s not that… I just got… busy,” Johnny trailed off not meeting your eyes.

“Yeah I kinda noticed,” the bitter tone made a reappearance in your voice again.

“What was that supposed to mean?”

“It means nothing. It’s late I’ll talk to you later.” You tried closing the door only for a foot to stop it.

“Wait no we need to talk about this.”

“There is nothing to talk about right now,” you mumbled, turning your body away from your giant of a best friend.

Walking up behind you Johnny placed his hands on your shoulders to spin you around to face him. “Of course there is something to talk about! We can start with why you are acting like a bitch. Just because you got your new found power doesn’t mean you have to be an entitled one!”

Blue electricity crackled like static off your body effectively making your friend remove their hands from your shoulders. “You never talked about being a hero until some pretty blonde who you never even talked to gave you the time of day!”

“At least she is encouraging me to make a difference, that I can actually save somebody!”

“So just because I said that I worried about you getting hurt means nothing? Wait, no, don’t answer that,” your lips pressed into a thin line. You were done with arguing and just wanted to go cry in your room, but you had something you needed to do. To be honest you weren’t really sure how you managed, but you managed to sweep Johnny up and speed up to his room before tossing him on his bed and disappearing with a streak of blue trailing behind you.

Johnny propped himself on his elbows as he stared at his closed bedroom door. What the hell just happened.

You on the other hand had closed the front door to your home pretty harshly and slumped against it bringing your knees to your chest, as you tried to suppress your sobs. The boy was all brawn and no brain, and couldn’t have been more oblivious.

----

People were actually surprised to see you and Johnny not connected at the hip, and even more surprised to see him with the queen bee.

You on the other hand just shrugged it off trying to not to seem as affected by your tarnished relationship with your now ex-best friend. The table you used to sit at was now empty and the only time you spent inside was to pick up lunch before heading out to the track where you’d meet up with other speedsters of the like.

—————

Oh to think that this was only calm before the storm.

—————

There has been an obvious wedge driven between you and your brawny friend, but that seemed to continue getting wider the longer Johnny had the cheer captain on his hip. All it took was for you to stay late after practice in hopes of not running into your current problem, Johnny Suh.

Placing your feet in the starting block you focused on the track and the point where it started to curve. Eyes closing you could almost feel yourself immerse into one of the heats. The way the starting gun was loaded and all runners called to the ready. The familiar tingles of electricity started to crackle along your body, and you took off at the sound of the imaginary starting gun shooting the blank into the air.

Opening your eyes though, you weren’t ready to meet the honeyed locks of the women who drove the wedge in your friendship. The over-the-top floral smell that rolled off her me you scrunch up your nose. “Um, can I help you?” you glanced around the area of the track to see if she was looking for someone from her team, or even Johnny.

She took one quick look over her shoulder before giving you a condescending smile. “Actually sweetie you can.” As her words left her mouth a pink mist had started to seep off her arms and fingertips, and move in your direction.

It seemed as if your feet were made of lead and the only thing you could do was jerk your head to the side, but even then the attempt was futile. The mist seemed to put a veil over you and you felt like a prisoner in your own head. It felt like cotton was in your ears, your mouth clamped shut, but you could smell roses.

You watched as your body lurched forward damn near close to super sonic with your fist raised. You wanted to scream, you wanted to cry as you watched your fist connect to her cheek. What the hell is happening?! You wanted to stop your limbs from their continuing tangent, and they did, but as a result from an outside source.

An almost bone crushing grip had wrapped around your upper arms, before you felt a weightlessness. You have never felt like a ragdoll before but now you could market that one of your list of things you never realized you haven’t done before. All too quickly your back landed harshly against the turf field before skidding to a stop.

Shouting could be heard from your team mates, and a voice you knew all too well was starting to make its way through the fuzz inside your head. “YN! What the fuck is wrong with you?!?” Johnny yelled as he helped pick up the cheerleader.

You wanted to answer, or scream or do anything other than just watch him walk away with the person that left you smelling roses. A could tell a shadow had passed over your face and soon a light was being shined into your eyes.

Your coach and a sports medicine student noticed how dilated your eyes were while they examined them. It wasn’t until they rolled you onto your back that they realized how drastic the impact with the ground really was. “We need to get her in to see the nurse,” your coach mumbled, moving to shift one of your arms over his shoulder while the med student did the other.

“Do you think that maybe YN was affected by a super?” The student questioned as they caught a glimpse of your face that still seemed to be in a trance.

“It’s a possibility, but I’ll need to discuss things with YN and their parents,” the track coach let out a sigh knowing that the results of today would end with you being suspended.

----------

The nurse took one look at your face before ushering the two holding you to lay you on the bed. After digging in the cupboard for cleaning antiseptic, gauze and athletic tape the nurse looked at your coach. “Have you called the parents yet?”

“Just about to head down to the office and call them to come down.”

The nurse just nodded before starting the task of taking care of the turf burns that ran along your shoulders, arms and knees. Leaning in close to wipe the grit away she heard you mumble words under your breath. The word ‘rose’ falling endlessly from your lips. Having her suspicions confirmed she shook her head once more before waiting for your parents to arrive.

----------

Your head turned slowly as you heard the hurried steps of heels enter the nurse’s office. You’ve already discussed your suspension with your coach, because well a fight is a fight regardless of super-usage, or who instigated it. When you met your mother’s and father’s eyes you couldn’t help but look back down at your hands fisted in your lap.

“Oh baby,” your mom whispered as she made her way to sit next to you on the bed.

Not missing a beat you looked over at your mom and whispered, “I didn’t have control of my own body… it, it wasn’t my fault.”

“I know baby. I think there’s some things we need to talk about,” your mom told you while taking one of your hands. Your father grabbed the stool and scooted it closer.

His eyes were trained on his hands as he wrung them. “Bub… I’ve been offered a promotion.”

“Well that’s good?” You weren’t entirely sure where this conversation was going.

Your father let out a sigh as he looked over at your mother. “It’s not here at the office. The company wants to move me to a new office a couple cities over.”

A small frown touched your face as you took in the news. “So… what exactly does this imply then? Do we have to move?”

“Your father and I have discussed a couple of options on our way over,” your mom told you while taking one of your hands, “one of them is that we do move to be closer to your father’s job.”

“Or, I can stay in hotels during the week and come home on the weekends,” your father finished. Your parents could tell by the look on your face that you were mulling over your options.

Chewing on your cheek you thought of all the shitty things that have happened over the past couple of weeks that all led up to today, and honestly running from your problems seemed like the better option currently. Your best friend, the person you grew up with, the person you may have started to develop feelings made it very clear where you two stand today. It’s not like he’d care right? I mean, he’s never used his power on me before… until today.

Finally looking at your parents you decided you had an answer. “I think I’d be okay with moving.”

----------

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#dvoz-writes #nct127 fanfic #johnny x reader #nct angst #nct fluff #johnny suh #superhero au #nct 127 superhero au #superhero johnny #i dont need a hero series #nct127 angst #johnny angst

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