#and i'm part of three college clubs

[bakingrecipe]

Hi aaj kal bahut kam dash mein dikh rahe ho

life is so good at keeping me busy

[hoshigray]

𝐇𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Is it possible to wish to be in the embrace of someone who makes you want to throw them off a cliff? You seem to think so, and the same goes for Gojo. But alas, good things always come to an end, even when not meant to be...

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers + mutual pining - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied fwb relationship - catching/awakening feelings - oral (m! receiving) - ball massaging + sucking - sex in a shared room; college dorms (alone) - cowgirl position on a chair - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, pretty, princess) - heavy depiction of a blowjob - cameos: Haibara and Ijichi - fluff + angst; misunderstandings - humor bc i'm [not] funny.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 7.6k

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: second part, let's goooo!! i loved ur support and comments from the first story, so hope y'all are excited for this part :DDD and ty so so so MUCH for 5.5k like??? i kiss you on cheek, every single on of you, hehehe~

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“If you’re not gonna help, then leave my dorm!”

“Ehhhh, hell no! It’s cold as fuck outside; you want me to freeze to death?”

“They’re…still going at it.”

“Yeah…give it a minute, and we’ll just go to the library without them?”

It’s coming down to the last week of January; university students are finally settling in with their new schedules and getting used to the groove of the spring semester. Or some run around trying to keep up with the new semesters and the change of weather already getting on people’s nerves, wanting nothing more than spring to come quickly.

Three weeks in, and you already have stuff to do, one of them being an argumentative presentation assigned by Professor Yaga in your Contemporary Issues class. You and three other people are tasked to find sources for a topic issue you find interesting and then present a discussion-based presentation on two sides of the topic (two people in favor and two people against).

Unfortunately, the groups were to be randomly assigned. Luckily, two friends you knew in the class, Haibara and Ijichi, were picked to work alongside you! However, the bad part was that another person you knew was assigned to work with you, and he happens to be the guy getting on your last nerves right now, sitting on your couch while clicking through the television channels with the remote. 

Your roommates weren’t home today. The club fair was occurring at the quad, so Mei Mei and Utahime had to go out and represent their clubs for the afternoon. Shoko is having an intense study session with Geto for an exam on the first of February, so they’re at the library now. 

That leaves you alone at your dorm, using this as a perfect opportunity to invite your group over to work on the project. 

“You can freeze your nuts off and become the next Jack Frost for all I care; if you’re not going to do your part of the work, get out!”

Well, minus you yelling at your partner, who clicks his teeth before turning to you. His round sunglasses shone from the light reflected from the living room windows.

Satoru Gojo was your number one nemesis within these campus grounds; this was a known fact to everyone, especially the other group members who nervously examined you two bicker. Being in the same space as him is enough to make you wish you could pull your hair out or put him in the nastiest headlock you could do. Worse, being assigned to the same group as him for your project almost made you want to rip your ears off. 

But you had to suck it up; at least you were the first group to start a presentation. Better now than worry about it later, right? 

“Pssh, fine, I’ll get up and—Oh! Wait, you guys have Digimon on Hulu? Ahhh, sick!” 

Nevertheless, you can’t say that when your supposed partner acts like a child glued to your TV screen instead of doing the work he promised to do. You grit your teeth with a twitching brow, “Why you…”

Across from the common area was the kitchen, where Haibara and Ijichi sat at the dining table. The two sophomores could do nothing but feel the tension between you and Gojo grow with every passing second, suffocating the younger duo. Haibara eyes Ijichi from across the table and whispers, “Wanna make a run for it now?”

The black-haired second-year didn’t reply, only a hurried nod before the two grabbed their coats and stuffed their laptops back into their backpacks. The sound of their zippers alerts your ears, turning to them to question, “Huh? Where are you two going?” 

Haibara takes it upon himself to deliver a half-lie as he zips up his jacket. “On second thought, Ijichi and I are thinking of taking the shuttle to the library to work instead.”

Huh? The library? Were they leaving because of the belligerence between you and Gojo? God, you hoped not. “Wait, you guys don’t have to do that. I already made you guys walk all this way here; it’d be rough to have you leave for somewhere else…”

Ijichi comes with the assist after putting the sling of his messenger bag around his shoulder. “It’s okay, Y/n. We found material from the library we could use as sources, so we’re heading up there to take some notes while they’re there.” 

“Yup!” Haibara exclaims in agreement, and the two walk past you to put on their shoes by the front door. “Maybe you guys can find sources of your own while we’re gone, and then we can converse and share what we found when we come back. Sounds good?” 

“I suppose so…” you couldn’t shake the feeling that they were leaving to avoid being in the same room as you and Gojo. The guilt is hard to endure since you didn’t mean to make the younger boys uncomfortable. “See you guys, then.”

“Cya!” And with that, the door closes on their way out, leaving you and Gojo alone in your apartment. 

Well, this is just great; you’ve driven your group members and friends away and are now stuck with the nuisance of a partner who still keeps his attention on the television. It takes everything in your power not to pop a vein. But with one calm breath, you steady yourself and stand tall. 

You walk in front of the TV, blocking it from Gojo’s view. The white-haired boy throws his hands up in exasperation, but you couldn’t care less. “What’s the big idea?” He questions you as if he has a right to at this moment. 

You cross your arms across your chest with narrow eyes. “Haibara and Ijichi just left.”

“Uhh, yeah, I heard the door,” he maneuvers his body to try and see the children’s show blocked by your figure. “Doesn’t have to do with me—“

“It does have to do with you.” You interrupt him, taking two steps and bending to stare him down. Your face is a foot away from his. “You’re supposed to be here to work with Haibara on the ’no’ part of the argument while me and Ijichi do our part. You’ve only been here for thirty minutes, and the only thing you’ve done successfully is take off your shoes at the door and read your manga books on the couch. 

Gojo chuckles – oh, how you hated his laugh – as he puts his hands behind his head, spreading his long legs from their crossed form. “You heard them, no? They’re going to research on their own and then come back. Besides, you know I’m not one to start stuff right away. I’m a procrastinator, remember?”

“You’re annoying; that’s what you are.” You straighten up with a heavy sigh.  God, I wish Utahime and Shoko were here. They’d help me out with this white garbage…

“Ahhh, lighten up, Y/n. It’s not like the presentation is on Monday; we got until Friday to come up with everything.”

“Yeah, I’m aware of that, smartass. And you’re right: I do know you. And I know you tend to do things at the last fucking minute. But not this time!” You watch him try to put his feet up on the coffee table, and you quickly intervene by kicking them off. 

“Tch. Look, you knew what you were getting into being partnered with me. And relax; those two said they’ll be back to discuss the material later. They already left – nothing I can do about it.”

Your hands rest at your hips, tapping your foot with visible frustration. “Oh? And I wonder why they left in the first place, Gojo. Mind telling me how?”

He quirks up a brow with a smug grin — a telling sign that you’d get ticked off with whatever he’s about to say. “I don’t know, Y/n. Why not ask the nagging control freak talking to me right now, huh? Maybe their short height and angry temper are affecting the mood of those around them to be miserable like them.” 

You almost did it — your hands nearly gave into your intrusive thoughts and were about to lunge at the snow-haired guy’s neck to wring around like a rag doll. But you played it off with a clap, rubbing the palms together to distract your temporary violent thoughts.

You sucked your teeth and turned on your heel. “Forget it. I’m gonna go take a nap.”

He scoffs, “Good, maybe your tiny brain needs it to calm down.”

“Choke and die, Gojo!” You say down the hall, already at the door of your shared bedroom. Before slamming the door shut, Gojo’s patronizing laughter can be heard to your dismay. With gritted teeth, you march to your bed to throw yourself on the mattress. 

“Ughhh. That Satoru Gojo,” you curse his name under your breath as if he’d hear you through the walls. “So unserious…”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

To be quite honest with himself, Gojo doesn’t necessarily hate you.

The white-haired boy lies on his side on Utahime’s bed, watching you nap. He did knock on the door – believe him, he did. He even gave you the good old ten-second rule, waiting for your response. But then you didn’t, which gave him the initiative to waltz in and see you in your slumber.

You slept so peacefully; your face at peace, and your faint snores were the only things his ears picked up on. It was as if your little nagging show from earlier was hard to comprehend when seeing your tranquil state in front of him. It used to be rare to see you like this. Keywords: used to be.

For the past two to three weeks, your relationship with Gojo has become more…intimate. Ever since he took your first kiss and drew your virgin curtains, the two of you have gotten a little closer than before — both platonically and physically. Something that Gojo never thought he’d experience with you, his tiny, cute frenemy. 

Gojo has known you since freshman year; you were two in the same enrichment group to prepare you to transition into college life. Personally, he wasn’t much for the program; he found it a waste of time, a mandatory prerequisite that he felt he didn’t need. He’s all about experience, wanting nothing more than to get on with his day, go to classes, hang with friends, and repeat. 

“Hello, my name is Y/n. It’s nice to meet you all!”

And then came you, the person sitting across from him at the round table your group would always meet at. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored by you the second he saw you. Gojo rarely finds someone who could easily pull his eyes to them — not saying the girls who’d usually crowd and admire him weren’t pretty. There was something about you that kept him wanting to know more – to engage more – about you. 

One thing he knew from you was that you carried your character with pride. Your achievements, your personality, your kindness, and your mannerisms — all of which were displayed elegantly and were a breath of fresh air to look at. You stood out to him more than all the other kids in the group, his eyes always finding a way to steer from the professor’s advice to your alluring, listening face. 

Another thing Gojo liked about you was that you weren’t afraid to stand your ground, especially when discussing with your peers or him. Sure, you were always respectful and would respect other people’s arguments. But, God, the way you said things so constructed and nuanced, it had the tall other glued to you whenever you spoke.

He’s not going to lie; he’ll admit that he’d try to tick you off and get you to get a little angry with him when it came to arguing. He couldn’t help it. He just liked the thought of you layering out of your poised appearance to the point you’d glare at him whenever you saw him in the halls. And it had him giddy knowing he’s the one that made you angry because you looked cute. 

And that was the other thing he really liked about you. The more you two interacted, argued, hung out with his friends, or attended classes together, the more Gojo’s fascination for you turned into that of a school-boy crush. He wouldn’t admit to anyone of this (minus Geto and Shoko if his life depended on it) because it certainly wasn’t something to be known. He was okay with what you two had right now, being the friend who loves to push your buttons to see you nag at him. 

That was until you two started sleeping together. Because holy fuck, the past weeks you two have been sneaking time to have each other’s bodies close made Gojo’s mind go crazy. So fucking crazy like the feeling of you on him is borderline addicting. Your whiny cries calling out to him when he scrapes your sweet spots, your nails scrape on his chest, your half-lidded eyes when you look at him, or how you whisper his name only for him to hear.

This was the kind of relationship you two brewed, a secret thing only between you two. And Gojo was satisfied keeping it like this because it was what you wanted. No need to flaunt it around; it was no one’s business. Besides, he likes having you to himself, seeing a side of you that only he could imagine and experience.

The sensations of your body under his touch, the various tunes of your voice, and the beauty exhibited in your gaze. It was all addicting. You were addicting.

“Who told you to lie on my roommate’s bed? You know she’ll kill you if she ever saw you.” 

It was so addicting that he didn’t even notice you awake until you spoke to him, the erotic memories of you clouding his brain dissipating at the indication of your voice. He smirks, “Oh, I’ll be fine; not like she can hurt me with her tiny self.”

You’re too groggy to roll your eyes, sighing as you turn to your side to face him from across the room. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost an hour,” he replies, switching to sit criss-cross on Utahime’s bed. “I got bored watching TV and knocked.”

“How long have you been in here?”

“Maybe twenty minutes?”

“Just watching me sleep?”

“Yeah.”

You let out a scoff, shaking your head. “Weirdo.”

He snickers at you for recognizing his silliness. “Whaaat? There’s not much to do aside from looking at you. I got bored of the TV.”

“What about your manga?”

“Got bored of that, too.”

“Anyone on your socials that you’d wanna talk to? Girls? Friends? Your teammates?”

“Mmm, nah, none I’d wanna talk to right now.”

Your brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Hmm?”

“What do you mean ‘right now’? You make it seem like I’m keeping you from interacting with your outside life. If you’re bored, talk with whoever you want. Maybe bother Geto…No, nevermind, he’d probably be annoyed since he’s studying.”

Gojo examines you, silently removing himself from your roommate’s bed and treading towards yours. He takes off his sunglasses and places them on top of your dresser before sitting on his knees on the floor. He rests his hands and chin on the edge of your bed, his sky-blue eyes locked in with yours. God, you were so beautiful to look at. 

“I meant that I don’t want to talk to anybody.” Now that he’s closer to you, his voice dials to a whisper. “Not when I got you here to myself.”

He notices your brows drawing upward at the sentence. “To yourself?”

“Mhmm,” he hums, bringing a forefinger to trace your brow. A sensual touch not to startle you. “Just you and me.”

You give him a look as if you think he’s trying to pull something. “Don’t tell me you were making me mad at you earlier just so Haibara and Ijichi could leave, and I’d be stuck with you.”

His smile broadens with every word, his dimples out to see. “No, although I hate that I didn’t think of that myself.” His hand goes to your cheek for his thumb to stroke gently. “Would it have been a bad thing if I did?”

You don’t reply, only placing your hand on his. Your eyes are still on his blue orbs, and – you don’t know this because Gojo has the perfect view of you – the light from the window made them shine charmingly as it highlighted your face. 

“No…I don’t think so,” you murmur, gaze gradually venturing down to his lips. “I like being around you…Satoru.”

He heard his name leave your lips, an invitation to what he wants to do, his eyes fixated on your lips before closing them and drawing in closer. “Me too…”

The kiss was soft and gentle like he always starts with, waiting for you to give him the okay to kiss you again. And when you meekly lick his bottom lip, he gives in to your request and claims your lips again. 

Your moans were so sweet to his ears — his favorite thing to hear — especially when he becomes a little devilish and sucks on your tongue to make you whimper a little louder, turning him on even more. It serves as the perfect distraction for him to snake a hand into your shirt, his hand already making itself home and cupping your breast in your bra. 

You break the kiss with a gasp, and massages to your mound make your breath shaky. “Mmmah…you sneaky pervert,” you name-call him sweetly. 

“Can’t blame me; I just know that you like to have your tits played with.” Gojo sneers, tweaking your nipple to hear you gasp again. “Hey, remember you said you’d suck me off next time?”

“Huh?” The question threw you off before you could fall deeper into a euphoric haze. 

“Don’t ‘huh’ me, you promised!” He whines to you like a hurt puppy. “After I ate you out for twenty minutes straight last time, can I just have your mouth on my dick once?”

“I never told you to eat me out for twenty minutes!”

“You crying and telling me not to stop said otherwise!” He stands his argument, even if you warn him with a glare. “Just suck it, please. I haven’t felt your mouth in a while.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t expect to deal with his childish tendencies, but it is Gojo we’re talking about. You sigh, “…Fine, Satoru.” And then the white-headed boy beamed at the confirmation, immediately standing up and heading to your desk. It was an abrupt change of pace for a second until he brought your desk chair out. 

With glee, Gojo flings his jeans and boxers with ease, his half-hard cock out for you to see. He sits on your chair with spread legs, “I’m ready~.”

You roll your eyes, yet the smile on your face sneaks without you knowing while leaving your bed and crouching between his legs. “You’re such a big baby sometimes…”

Your hand finds its way to the body of his dick, gliding it up and down to feel the veins under your palm and fingertips. Gojo hums to your cold fingers, hitching his breath when you tease him with a blow of air. 

Your free hand comes to his balls, massaging his testicles in a way that has his leg jerk. He tries to fight it, but the squirm on his legs says otherwise. “Hahhh, fuck…quit it…”

“Hmm? What, you don’t like it when I tease you?” You peer up at him with a smug grin before using your tongue to lick on the glans slowly, and he covers his mouth before a gasp comes out after lapping on his frenulum. “But when you do it to me, it’s not a problem, huh?”

“Mmmph, shiit, Y/n—Ohhh…!” Another jolt of the hips after you lick and kiss one of his balls, teasing the skin with a kiss and tiny chews that would have him choke on his breath. “Jesus, fuck! Y/n, baby, you’re driving me crazy….Aishhh!!

“Oh, really?” God, you were such a fucking tease. But he fucking loved that so much. “What should I do?” You ask him before sucking on his balls again, and a hand comes to your shoulder to grip. 

“Mmmm…Blow me off, princess,” shivers crawl up his spine as you place kisses from the base of his cock towards the tip. “Please, I wanna feel you…” 

You giggle at his reply, finally taking in his cockhead to your pretty lips and sighing through your nose as you hollow your cheeks to take in more of him. 

Gojo sighs at your licks and sucks on his girth, his erection becoming accommodated to your oral cavity wonderfully. You unhurriedly prompt yourself to take in more of him until your lips reach his pubes, your throat now full of him, and the warmness of your gummy walls makes him squirm more. 

Bobbing your head at a moderate pace, you suck him off to that of a pleasurable cadence. You still use your hands to stroke him, Gojo melting to your touch even more. He throws his head back when you attack his tip again with the onslaught of licks and laps, the hand on his balls roughly kneading them jerks him to moan aloud. 

Fuck, it feels so fucking good having you suck him off like this. How your tongue moved up and down on him was so dangerous, prompting him to place a hand on your head for support. As if that would help, you don’t show him mercy when you suck him harder and faster. The noises coming from your mouth sounded so erotic and pornographic, the heat on his face brewing out more. 

“—Khhmm, fuck, man, I can’t…Ahhh! Y/n, I’m gonna cum if you keep licking it like that. Stop, st—Ahhaaa!!” 

But like he said before – you’re a tease (if not worse than him). You remove Gojo’s dick from your mouth and throat at once, the groan he exerts fueling the fire in your body. You stand to withdraw your shirt, bra, and panties to the ground, knowing Gojo’s watching every move. “Don’t get mad at me; I know how much you wanna cum inside.” 

You pull out the condom from the pocket of your skirt, placing the rubber on his cock after removing it from the wrapper. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like you’re more of a pervert than me if you had that ready while those two were here earlier.” 

“Shut up,” you playfully kiss him with a sneaky bite to his bottom lip. Then, you mount and align your cunt on his dick, the glans kissing your wet labia. “Hmmm, fuck…”

“Relax, cutie,” he kisses you on the cheek while his hands fondle your breasts. 

You slowly descend your slit onto him, the tip of his cock pushing into the entrance of your vagina. A couple of exhales and inhales keep you steady when inserting him into you, not letting the pain distract you from the task at hand. And the both of you moan in unison when it makes it in, your hips leisurely coming down on him until your ass rests on his thighs. 

You grind on him with the roll of your hips, evoking choked intakes of air from him as a hand goes to your ass with vigor. His face to your chest while the other hand plays with one mound. His lips found a nipple to pop into his mouth to suck on. 

With a slow pace, you rock your hips onto him. Your legs bent for your feet to be on his knees, the chair solid enough to withstand you bouncing on Gojo’s dick with repetition.  

“Hoohhh, ohhhh, mmmm,” your hums are expressed in tunes. The curve of his cock is so fucking good, scraping your insides with precision. You couldn’t help but increase the speed just a little bit. 

Gojo keeps sucking on your nipple; the grazes of his teeth and pushing the bud up to the roof of his mouth only fuels more quivers to travel down your bouncing figure. Both of his hands now under your skirt to feel the flesh of your ass under his hungry grasp. He kneads your asscheeks with every thrust to your chasm, and your shrieks get louder by the second. 

“—Mmmph! Shit, shit, you feel so good, pretty,” he finally lets go of your hardened nipple, burying his face to your chest. “So fucking good for me…fuhuuuucck!

You could feel your cunt contract around him; every graze to your sensitive spots prompted your walls to grip around him. He hisses, looking up to see your expression as you ride him out. Fuck, you looked so good on top of him like this. He’ll add this position to the list of things to do again with you.

You peer down to see that Gojo is staring at you, and you quickly bring a hand to cover his eyes. “—Ahhahhn, d-don’t look at me like that! Yer soo embarrassing…!” 

He only chuckles at your shy demeanor, especially during this. But he humors you, not fighting your makeshift blind for him to see you wholly. He’s seen it all already — felt it all, too. And he could never get enough. 

“Ooooh, Satoruuu—Nnaaahh!” He loves how you say his name, your hand traveling to his hair to grab in tuffs. “Oh, fuck, ‘toruuu, I’m gonna cummm…!”

“—Hnngh! Yeah, baby?” Oh, he knows. The way you’re grinding to and fro on his pelvis tells him so. “Go ahead, princess. Clench on me and ride it out.”

And with that, your hips go to an erratic pace that has the both of you holding for dear life. The squeeze of your inner walls clenching on him almost makes him choke on his spit, the nails of his fingertips forming crescents on your skin. And you scream at it, slamming your ass onto him as you both climb up to orgasm. 

Within seconds, it hits the both of you like a train. This had to be Gojo’s favorite part of the entire thing, experiencing having your folds clamp and flutter around him as you cry for him. It took everything in his power not to come with you because he wants to have you on him a little longer. You just felt too good to let go — too addicted to your body to be done with one round.

When the contractions subside while your slurred howls get quieter, Gojo gives you a few minutes to let your body be free from the aftershocks. He knows your body is extra sensitive now, rubbing circles on your back and placing chaste kisses on your clavicle. You hum under his lips, letting the wave of your crescendo exude out from you quietly. 

However, since you wanted to be such a tease, why not be a tease back? At least, that’s what Gojo thought before he threw your cunt another snap of the hips, his cock jabbing into your delicate walls that haven’t recovered yet. A sharp cry comes from your puffy lips, the hand covering Gojo’s eyes finally freeing him to see you. 

He grins with hooded azure eyes, “Sorry, cutie, but I didn’t get to finish. Wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t get to have fun of my own, right?” 

You chew on your lip with trenched brows before bringing your face to his. “Don’t you get carried away like last time, Satoru.”

“No promises, princess~” he sings to your ear before humming into your lips. 

As mentioned before, Gojo doesn’t hate you — he just hates that he can’t fully express liking you. 

But having you on top of him like this, in his embrace, is a nice change of pace he’ll happily get used to.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

“Okay, everyone, class dismissed! Thank you for your time, and see you all on Friday.”

Professor Naga closes up the last class for today, and the students all get up from the seats of their elevated rows to pack up and leave. The clock is ten minutes before seven o��clock, the winter darkness already claiming the sky with a sheet of night. Students are either famished and heading to the dining hall for food, going straight to their dorms or homes, or staying behind for last-minute conversations.

Gojo was one of the latter, deciding to stay behind to chat with the group for a bit. After packing his backpack and putting on his coat, he slings from the table to jump to the row below him, where you were talking with Haibara and Ijichi. 

You watch his stunt, ready to lecture, “Jesus, Gojo, what’s all that for? You could’ve just walked around.”

“Ehhhh, why would I do that? That’s so lame.” He comes and bends close to you enough to slang his arm around your shoulders. 

But you click your teeth and try to maneuver away from his tall figure. “You’re lame,” you mutter under your breath.

However, Gojo’s ears perked with furrowed brows. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you lame white furby!” You repeat yourself with a huff and the snow-haired student gawks at your brazenness. 

The two of you argue again; students passing by silently exit the class, others stand and watch, and Professor Yaga can only sigh at yet another altercation between you two. 

However, it quickly dissipates when Haibara laughs from his seat. “You two, there’s never a dull moment.”

You and Gojo blink at the dark brunette before removing Gojo’s hand from your shoulders. “Hmph, it’s not like it’s my fault; he’s the one who starts it.”

“Oh, what could I possibly do to make Y/n so upset with me this time?” He pushes up his sunglasses, snickering at the scowl you send him. 

Ichiji, being the passive second-year he is, meekly changes the topic from the row below you three. “On some brighter news, at least we did well on the presentation.” 

“That’s right!” Haibara happily agrees with the statement, leaning against the chair with his hands behind his head. “Professor Yaga seemed really pleased with our arguments; I don’t think he intervened even once. Plus, he said many good things about how we handled the topic. Nice one, team!” 

The raven-haired one hums at the other’s exclamation. “I think most of it goes to how Y/n and Gojo bounced off each other’s arguments. How you two pulled up examples from the articles yet remained dignified with your viewpoints was cool to witness. I even saw some students be engaged with the conversation, many amazed with how Y/n refuted Gojo’s arguments elegantly and respectfully.”

But most of all, what the two sophomores wanted to mention was that there was no yelling. To them, the professor, and all the students of this class, you and Gojo presented your presentation without a single tone of malice, no pointless teasing, no name-calling, nothing! It was a civil conversation between two opposing sides. To everyone’s surprise — and thankful stars — today was a success.

You chuckle nervously at the praise. “Oh, come on, you two, don’t let me and Gojo take all the credit. You guys did your part. Especially you, Ichiji; you were an exceptional help for my side and finding sources I could build off from.”

Gojo, on the other hand, rolls his eyes. “Psssh, don’t butter them up like that; without us, they would’ve failed this presentation big time. No offense.” He was forced to say that when you called him by his last name and hit him with your elbow.

None taken, the two younger friends say to themselves unbeknownst to each other. 

The tall one continues, “Besides, you were the one who did most of the work. I slacked off until the last minute when you whipped me into shape.” Gojo brings his hand on top of your head for a pat. The action surprised you enough to flinch a bit. “Nice work like always, Y/n.”

Were the stars aligned differently, or did Gojo just compliment you? It certainly took you aback, especially the two others who silently kept their observation to themselves. 

You could only look at his complacent look for a few seconds before you realized the warmth of your cheeks became stronger. Averting your eyes, you remove his hand from your head. “Thanks, Gojo…” you express gratitude. “You weren’t so bad yourself.”

A cheeky smile, his dimples prominent to blind you. “Awww, would you two look at that? They’re complimenting me, too~” Another bump to the chest has him cackling like a child, and you shake your head with rolled eyes.

The two younger students observe the scene before Haibara forcibly stretches and yawns to catch the two’s attention. “Man, I’m so hungry; I skipped lunch to prepare for this presentation. Me and Ijichi are gonna meet up with Nanami at the dining hall. You guys wanna come?”

You instantly beam at the proposal; who are you to refuse a dinner with your friends? “Sure! I’d love to…Oh! Wait, let me use the restroom and fill my water bottle.”

You rummage through your backpack for your water bottle before exiting the classroom. The boys watch you descend from row after row, and Gojo says, “Don’t take too long; I’ll convince them to leave without you.”

“Hmph, go ahead and try! They invited me; I don’t know who told you to invite yourself.” You stick your tongue out at him before opening and closing the door behind you. 

Gojo watches you with a smile still plastered on his face for a few seconds before Ijichi makes a tiny cough to catch his attention, the sunglasses-wearing junior turning to look back down to the other two. He notes the albeit cheesy-smiling faces they harbor, and he lifts a brow. “The hell are you two smiling for?”

The raven-haired sophomore squeaks at the sudden firm tone, “N–Nothing!”

“Pfft, oh come on, Kiyo; let’s not act like we didn’t see what we just saw.”

Gojo catches the nuance of Haibara’s comment. “Saw what?”

“You’re over here talking about our faces, but you’re the one who’s smiling at Y/n as they leave the door?” The brunette sophomore sends a wink to his junior, whose face doesn’t change at the comment.

“And your point is?”

“Well, it seems — to me, at least —  there might be something going on with you and Y/n?” 

Gojo was prepared for that, opening his mouth to interject quickly. However, the dark-haired other beat him to the punch. “Now that you mention it, Gojo and Y/n have been kind of…stable? There's still the usual arguments, but those haven't happened as much since last week…”

“Right!?” Haibara points at Ijichi with exclamation, making the other second-year flinch. “For some reason, things seem to be a little quieter with the two of them now, not to mention them hanging out way more often. Everyone’s been talking about it; even Geto and Shoko asked if Gojo had done anything that made Y/n passive?”

“I asked Nanami about it on Monday; he thinks maybe Y/n finally knocked some sense into Gojo’s childish brain to have him be so civil to engage without yelling their head off.”

“Pffthaha, I wouldn’t go that far. Y/n did just kick him in the shin yesterday for scaring them from behind.”

“Ahh, yes, well, that was deserved.”

“You two realize I’m still standing right the fuck here, right?” No, they hadn’t because the two discerned the twitch of Gojo’s brow after conversing about the tall, white-haired boy. 

“But it’s true!”

Another voice enters the set, making Gojo raise his head, and the other two turn to their left. It was some girl and her friend. Gojo knew of her; she sat next to him during class. Again, he knew of her, meaning she had no significance to his knowledge.

And yet, she speaks to the three boys. “You and Y/n have gotten a lot more close these past weeks compared to previous semesters—“

“Real close, too!” Their friend adds on from behind. “It’s as if you two are like a couple.”

“So…Are you two….a thing?”

Gojo could tell from a mile away what this was. Obviously, the first girl has a thing for him — he can see the anxiousness from the twiddle of her thumbs and avoidant eye contact. Although he wasn’t interested, he couldn’t even answer the question the way he wanted. What the hell could he say: that you two are in a secret relationship? He knows you’d have his grave ready before he could finish that confession.

And he can’t say the two of you are in any relationship either; it’s not what you would’ve told them. To everyone else, you and Gojo are friends who would preferably be caught dead rather than lying in bed together. So, might as well keep that facade up.

“Not that it’s any of your business,” he starts with the push of his sunglasses. “Y/n is a pretty good friend, and I’d like to keep it at that.”

Haibara and Ijichi turn from Gojo to look at each other and shrug. Before turning back, something caught their eye that caused the two sophomores’ skin to turn white.

Ijichi tries to prevent Gojo from speaking further. “G-Gojo—“

However, the tall one doesn’t listen. “I mean, sure, they got a nice personality and are independent…Kinda pretty, too, not gonna lie. But they’re not really my type. I mean, have you seen them? Just a little person who likes to find trivial stuff to yell at me over. Angry at the world around them, I’d say.“

“Go. Jo.” Haibara says the junior’s name through gritted teeth, bringing his hand up by his neck and drawing an imaginary horizontal line back and forth — a gesture for Gojo to not say anymore. But unfortunately, the sign wasn’t seen, and the words kept pouring out.  

“And to be honest, can you imagine? Me and Y/n, a couple? Jesus Christ, that would be fucking exhausting to deal with, especially with someone so boring and too uncute like them. I’ve seen prettier, been with better. I feel sorry for the poor bastard who does end up with them—“

“SATORU GOJO!”

Now — that sudden burst of yell from a loud, masculine voice — that was what got Gojo’s attention. It’s what got the attention of everyone else in the room. The snow-haired student jerks to look at the professor standing at the front, the older man with a deep frown. “What?

The professor doesn’t answer him. Instead, he points to the left of him with his chin with a huff. With common sense, Gojo turns behind him to see where the older man points. And at that moment, he felt his very being drop to the soles of his feet. Haibara and Ijichi took a slow breath in unison at the immediate tension.

Behind him stood you, a lone figure holding their water bottle within three arm’s length away from the group. But that was sufficient enough for you to have heard everything said. 

Breathing suddenly felt impossible for Gojo; his entire body was stiff under your gaze. His shades could hide his eyes, but he wasn’t sure it could shield the instant shame that slapped him across the face from you. 

And that was another thing: the look you harbored was indecipherable — the true definition of disengagement. There were no widened eyes, quivering lips, or shaky hands. You stood plainly and looked as though you were detached from the entire situation. And that was what scared him the most.

This was strike one.

He dared not move when you began walking up, and your eyes then shifted to ignore his presence. “Hey, Yu,” the brunette straightened his posture at the use of the first name. “I think I’ll have to decline on that dinner offer. I’m a little tired and have a paper I need to work on…Maybe next time?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, no problem.” He answers with a sweat.

Wait a second. Gojo tries to call for you, “Y/n—“

“Ijichi,” but you immediately shut him down and directed your attention to the other sophomore friend as you put on your coat and stuffed your water bottle back into your bag. “Be sure to submit the presentation template and sources to the course site before the end of the day, please.”

“U–Uhh, already done, Y/n.” He squeaks while reassuring.

Wait, please. The tall one tries again, “Wait, Y/n—“

“Good.” You sling your backpack on, refusing to look at the person trying to talk to you. “Well, I’ll be seeing you, then.” And with that, you turn on your heel and head down the row to leave.

No, wait, stop— “Y/n, wait!” This was strike two. 

Gojo doesn’t hesitate to call out to you. At that moment, he follows you to the class steps where you were a row down left from the door. He grabs your hand without thinking, the size of your palm captured by his slender fingers. He knew it was a risky move, but he had to — he had to get you to talk with him right now, if not ever. Because the latter is something he isn’t ready for, something he didn’t think would be a possibility.

And yet, he will learn this lesson of being prepared for the impossible when you rapidly turn to him. Strike three.

SLAP!

Have you ever seen someone get smacked in the face so hard that their sunglasses come off? The remaining two girls who witnessed it know for sure now. Haibara and Ijichi won’t admit to it as they immediately turn to the other side of the room when they saw your hand move. But please believe they winced at the sound of the impact. The same goes for Professor Yaga, who was too stunned to speak, yet it was a valid outcome. 

Gojo didn’t move a single limb, allowing the stinging feeling on his cheek to course through his facial muscles. His eyes were glued to the carpeted ground; he knew that’s where they were supposed to be. And you snatched your hand away from his grasp, leaving his fingers to suffer in forced loneliness.

“You…you think it’s all fun and games to say stuff like that when I turn my back for a few minutes, huh?” He can see your hand palpitate from his peripheral; the anger depicted alone was enough to interpret. And the tremble in your voice? It felt like an arrow to his being. “…Look at me.”

He’d be a fool to have you repeat yourself; he has lost that right to toy with you now. With a slow inhale, Gojo rotates his head at you, azure eyes tracking up your figure to your face. And when it lands at that destination, his heart is shot down.

Tears stream down vexed, watery eyes. Your brows furrowed, and your bottom lip chewed in a terrible attempt to stop it from quivering. The rise and fall of your shoulders as you moderate your breathing, trying so hard not to let your temper dwell into a deeper phase of ugly. It was bad enough you’re crying in public, in front of your peers, your teacher — and it was because of him. 

“From this day forward,” you fight your sniffles to say your statement as clearly as possible. “Don’t you ever talk to me, Satoru Gojo. Enjoy your life without something as boring as me.”

And with that, you dismiss yourself from him and the class altogether, the room silent even after the slam of the door closed. No one says anything, too shocked from the event to utter a letter. 

The silence aids the ringing in Gojo’s ears, his breathing still having trouble maintaining a balanced front. The cheek you slapped burned with pain; he’s sure the skin is as red as a cherry. 

Oh, fuck.

He brings a hand to his face, his body fighting the trembling. The ringing in his ears worsens, along with the pounding in his head that beats like a drum. His eyes stuck to the ground below him, choosing to focus on something inanimate and not living. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck—

All he could think of in this time and place was you. Memories flashing right before him, of you and only you. He can hear the way you say his name, both in vexation and in sweet tunes. Your smiles, your frowns, your huffs, your whispers. When your eyebrows scrunch whenever you express worry for him, how you’re never afraid to stand up against him when making a point, the smile that’s been blinding him for many days and nights — the smile he wouldn’t mind seeing for eternity.

All those memories were one stab to his heart after another. And every time a recollection ended, a flash of your crying face would return to haunt him. Tears that weren’t meant to be there but were, and warm feelings you expressed with him were gone the moment he saw your eyes void of feelings for him. At least, that’s what he saw.

He hurt you. That was the only revelation that haunted him where he stood, making his voice falter from confidence. It was a revelation he never meant to bring about. And now that it exists and he sees the damage, nothing would be better for him now than the ground beneath him swallowing him whole.

“What…the fuck…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[whytheylosttheirminds]

june gloom - part 2: is this gonna end ever?

(Rafe Cameron x pogue!reader, 6.9k words)

part 1

summary: Six months after Rafe walked out of your life, you're finally picking up the shattered pieces he left in his wake. When you accidentally find yourself working at his wedding, your thrown right back into the chaos you thought you were free from.

content: angst/smut, 18+ minors do not interact!, mentions of alcohol abuse and drugs, mentions of cheating, what could be considered infiedelity

a/n: as a fair warning, the angst only gets worse in this one. however, I promise the third and final part will see a satisfying and happy ending for these two if you stick with me. also, this one got wordy, but after struggling with it for a while i'm very happy with how it turned out. thank you to this anon for inspo and for everyone's support on pt. 1.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊

Crickets chirped a chorus around you as you laid back on the flannel blanket, the grass beneath making a soft pillow for your head. Your lips wrapped around the blunt, lungs expanding to welcome the smoke. You hummed in pleasure as the high-end strain went down way smoother than any of the trash you would usually get on The Cut.

“God, this is good shit,” you said with a lazy smile.

“Only the best for you,” Rafe smirked, leaning over on the blanket to pull the joint from your lips so he could join in your revelry.

He took a long drag and let it go in a smoke ring that rose above you and disappeared into the starry sky. You tried and failed to stifle your laugh.

“What’s funny?” He asked, eyes glazed over with his high.

“Nothing,” you chuckled. “Just…what frat house did you learn that in?”

“Shut up,” he teased back, making you laugh harder.

“No, I’m sure the sorority girls found that very sexy,” you continued.

“They did actually, thank you,” he joked. “You would’ve too.”

“Yeah right, I’d make a great Phi Beta Whateverthefuck,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Did you go to college?” He asked.

You’d known Rafe for about three months, spending nearly every night together since you first met at that club. You had talked about just about everything under the sun except yourselves, you were caught off-guard by this excavation into your history.

“Um, no,” you answered, taking the blunt back from him.

“Why not?”

You shrugged, taking another hit, “didn’t wanna.”

“Do you regret it?” He continued.

You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, looking down at him with a frown.

“What?” He questioned.

“Why the sudden interest?” You said, harsher and less playful than you’d intended to.

Rafe sat up next to you, pulling his knees towards himself to mirror you. His eyes were intense on your face as he mumbled, “you don’t want me to get to know you?”

Truthfully, you wanted that and so much more, but you couldn’t tell him that. You knew this was just a way for him to pass the time until he could get you in bed again, and maybe you were okay with that. You decided you’d entertain the line of questioning, just this once, not knowing then that this was just the first of many deep, meaningful conversations you’d share with him.

You took a deep breath and said, “what do you want to know?”

He looked up at the stars as he considered the answer to that question. You took the opportunity to admire the way the moonlight reflected off of the sharp angle of his jaw.

He decided on “what’s your biggest dream?”

You bit your lip and looked down at your bare feet, digging them into the blanket, not used to this kind of conversation and yet feeling curiously comfortable opening up to him.

“I want to go to India,” you answered honestly. “I read a book when I was a kid about a little girl who grew up in India and I’ve wanted to go ever since.”

Rafe nodded in approval, “that’s a good one. You should go.”

“Yeah, as soon as I win the lottery, it’ll be my first stop,” you joked bitterly.

“Or I could just take you,” he shrugged.

You smiled at him, incredulous. 

“What?” He asked, genuinely unsure of the meaning behind the look you were giving him. You realized he might actually be serious, even though you knew it would never really happen.

“Nothing. That’s sweet,” you smiled. “But I want to get there on my own. I wanna earn it.”

“I can respect that,” he conceded. 

“Anytime you wanna lend me that private jet, though, just hit me up,” you teased.

Rafe chuckled, eyebrows raised, “oh I see…you’re using me.”

“I thought that was obvious,” you smiled coyly. 

“Uh-huh,” Rafe said, playfully shoving your shoulders so you fell back onto the blanket. 

You giggled as he climbed over you, caging you in between his arms as he held himself up, looking down at you, tucked perfectly beneath him.

“I think I’m okay with that.”

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue sweeping over your bottom lip tenderly, lowering himself down until you were chest to chest…

“Are you listening to me?”

Your friend waved her hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention.

“Sorry, what?” You were pulled from your thoughts.

“I said they want us there at four this friday,” she showed you an email on her phone.

“Oh,” you blinked, coming back to the moment. “Where is it?”

“Some mansion on Figure 8. It’s a wedding, but they're doing like a whole weekend thing, so it’s Friday through Sunday. Last time I worked one of these I made over five hundred.”

When she first told you about the catering gig this weekend, you turned her down. You’d been carefully avoiding the north part of the island for the last six months, and a whole weekend would be a high-risk endeavor. However, you didn’t have to check your bank account to know you were near broke, and Figure 8 was where the real money was made. You agreed and ironed your white button down and black slacks, your go-to outfit for catering gigs.

As you pulled up to the address your friend had sent you, you cursed under your breath. The estate was huge, the old house immaculately kept and towering proudly under a crystal blue sky. You turned down the radio as your beat up car sputtered its way up the long, grand drive.

“We’re definitely not on the south side anymore,” you joked to yourself. 

You pulled around back to the service entrance as directed by your friend’s text and tracked her down in the crowd of other blue collar workers. Everyone was moving quickly, arranging the massive party space according to the wishes of some unseen bride and groom. 

You were put to work right away, polishing silverware and arranging it as instructed by the very specific, color-coded diagram you had been given. Tonight was only the rehearsal dinner, and there were two-hundred names on the guestlist. You chatted with your friend as you did various other chores, speculating about who could possibly be the owner of this massive property.

“Maybe it’s a crime lord,” your friend joked. “Like some mafia type shit.”

“Maybe it’s a celebrity,” you guessed. 

You didn’t have to wonder for long. 

“Hey! A little help here!” A delivery driver called to you as he struggled to lift something large and rectangular out of his truck, the mystery item protected with a large, black sheet.

You ran over to give him a hand, and he directed you to a big easel he had set out, “picture of the happy couple,” he explained. You called your friend over, informing her you were about to have all your questions answered.

Once you had set the canvas down, you asked the delivery driver if you could remove the sheet. “I don’t give a fuck, my job’s done,” he said, hopping back in his truck and driving off. You and your friend giggled as you did a little countdown and drumroll routine. You pulled the sheet away and her mouth fell open

“Of fucking course,” she immediately took out her phone to take a picture.

You stepped back to look at the giant, blown up portrait. Every muscle in your body tensed and the blood drained from your face, you grabbed the back of a nearby chair for support. 

There on the oversized canvas, smiling that perfect, crooked, arrogant, beautiful smile, was Rafe Cameron.

He had his arm around the woman you recognized to be the one he’d left you for, calling off your whirlwind love affair in pursuit of something more optically appealing to his family. He’d found it; they were gorgeous together.

Six months had passed since you’d last seen him. The first few months were the hardest you’d ever faced. At first, you went out almost every night, needing to stay shitfaced to keep your mind from wandering to him or your fingers from dialing his number. Eventually, you had to delete him from your phone, not trusting yourself in those late night moments when you missed him so much you thought you might die. No amount of booze or weed could make you forget the feeling of his hands on your body, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he fucked you that last time. Your friends started getting worried. You blacked out so often, you couldn’t keep a job. After three or four months of your reckless behavior, they called a sort of intervention and convinced you to calm down. 

You decided if you were going to be alone, you’d make yourself good company. 

You stopped drinking, and even gave up cigarettes. It took several false starts, but the patch got you through it. You picked up good habits, too, starting your mornings with yoga and meditation. You were planning to go back to school, tired of career-hopping through dead-end minimum wage jobs. You stopped eating take out so much, started grocery shopping and saving every spare cent you had for a travel fund. You even cut and dyed your hair, finding freedom in the ability to change whenever you wanted, in the fluidity of answering to no one but yourself. You were still untamed, but for the first time in your life, you felt a semblance of control. You decided you’d build a beautiful life even if you had to scratch and claw your way to it. And you’d do it all by yourself.

Slowly, and with the most effort you’d given anything ever, you were finally starting to get over Rafe Cameron.

Or so you thought. Now, standing in his backyard, decorating for his wedding, you felt like you were right back where you were that night in June, lying naked on your bed while he walked out of your life forever.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” A high-pitched, angry voice startled you, pulling your eyes away from the picture.

You whipped your head around to see her, even more stunning than she was in pictures, her wide Disney-princess eyes shooting daggers at you. Your first and most irrational thought was that she somehow knew who you were. The delusion of that concept was quickly made apparent.

“The picture was supposed to stay covered until tonight,” she barked at you and your friend, who looked at you with wide-eyed panic. “Aren’t you the fucking caterers? Why are you even out here?”

“S-sorry,” you stammered out, your mind reeling as it tried to connect to your reality. You picked up the sheet off the ground. “We’ll cover it back up.”

“No, don’t touch it! Where’s your manager?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. “They need to know about this. What are your names?”

Your friend looked at you with wide eyes, you knew she needed this job even more desperately than you did. Plus, she’d stuck her neck out to get you hired and now she’d lose the money and her credibility.

“It was me,” you blurted out. “Not her. Don’t worry, you don’t need to get anyone fired, I’ll just leave.”

It wasn’t a big sacrifice, considering you were already thinking if you stayed another minute you might have a full blown panic attack. At least if you threw yourself under the bus and got fired, your friend would have no reason to question why you ran from the property crying.

“Fine, whatever,” she dismissed your act of loyalty with a wave of her manicured hand while your friend looked at you with grateful eyes. “What’s your name then?”

“Don’t worry about it,” you handed her the sheet, which she snatched from your hands irritably. “I’ll just go.”

You tried to keep your composure as you walked back toward the house, praying you’d remember your way back to your car. Your heart was pounding, your anxiety and shock threatening to bubble over, you could feel tears springing up and your hands shaking.

You rounded one of the many corners of the massive house, finally out of her line of vision, and broke into a sprint. You passed through another courtyard, where more preparations were underway. There were far too many eyes on you. If you remembered correctly, there was only one more turn before the part of the property you were parked on.

Dirt crunching under your feet, you slid around the corner and straight into something hard and large. You let out a sharp “ouch” as your face burned with the force of the collision. To your horror, you realized you’d run into a person. You kept your eyes low, looking at the man’s feet as you held a hand over your face, wondering for a moment if you’d broken your nose. Then, a familiar scent flooded your senses, and you felt a large hand rest on your shoulder. 

“Woah, I’m sorry, are you okay?” Rafe’s voice asked, clearly unaware of who he was talking to, you looked so different than you did six months ago.

You raised your wide eyes to look at him, hand still cradling your throbbing nose. You took him in through rapidly blinking lashes, begging yourself not to cry. His face shifted slowly from concern for a stranger to recognition of someone all too familiar.

He pulled his hand from you in shock, his mouth opening and closing and opening again, trying to form words that just weren’t coming. You knew you needed to get out of there before they did.

“I’m fine,” you said firmly, hoping he understood you were talking about more than just your injured face.

You sidestepped him and kept running, leaving him standing wide eyed and ashen faced as he watched you get into your car and peel away from his home, and away from him. 

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The key rattled against the lock, your hands shaking as you tried to get into your apartment. When you finally got the door opened, you peeled off your clothes quickly, as if they were covered in something radioactive. You pulled on a tank and some sleep shorts, fully ready to get in bed and stay there for days. Everything in you was unraveling. The sight and sound of him undoing the steel backbone you had built for yourself. You climbed under the covers, curled into a ball, and sobbed.

You cried so hard, it knocked you out. Without trying to, your body fell into a hazy, uneasy kind of sleep, haunted by images of Rafe. When you woke, blinking confusedly at the fuzzy outline of the time on your alarm clock, it was dark outside. The clock read 11:03pm. You pulled yourself from your bed with a groan, craving something to comfort you in your post-meltdown emptiness.

As you stood at the sink, filling the kettle for some tea, your mind replayed the events of the day. He’s getting married tomorrow. The rehearsal dinner that you helped set up for was probably over by now. You pictured him saying goodnight to her with a kiss, hanging his tux for the morning, making sure he had the rings ready. You already knew you’d lost him, but the permanence of tomorrow’s events felt like a boot on the neck of the small part of you that still wondered what if.

Your phone rang out loudly on the kitchen table, making you jump, so startled you almost dropped the tea kettle, the water now overflowing. You set the kettle down on the stove and turned on the burner before looking at your phone screen, which read “unknown number.” You hit decline and let it go to voicemail. After a minute, you poured your tea and sat at the table, watching as your phone lit up again with notification of a new voicemail. You unlocked it and pressed play.

You knew the voice immediately, though it was coming out slurred and strained. You clutched the phone to your ear with both hands to hear better.

“Heyyyy baby. It’s me. I’m sorry for calling so many times, blowin’ up your phone and you’re probably out somewhere, looking fuckin’ gorgeous like always. Shit there’s probably guys lined up to take you home. Do you remember when we met? Fuck you looked so hot. I thought if you said no to going home with me I might literally die. But you said yes! You said yes and you took me home and we, fuck…god…it was so good, you’re so good. Not just the sex. I mean, yes your pussy is so perfect, but…shit it’s raining…but you were- you are…jesus Rafe get it together. I can’t remember what I was saying. I’m so drunk, I- ouch, fuck!- I miss you, baby. It's cold out here but I don’t care, I couldn’t be there anymore. I couldn’t listen to them talk about this fucking wedding. Fucking flowers and table settings and shit I don’t care about any of that…just, please…baby…I need-”

Your phone beeped loudly, the voicemail cut off for length. You replayed it, twice. Outside your kitchen window, you could see the rain getting heavy. The low was in the 30s tonight, and it was supposed to keep raining for hours. You couldn’t hear much in the background behind Rafe’s drunken rambling, but you could tell he was outside. You pictured him stumbling into a ditch somewhere. He had hurt himself on the voicemail, did he fall? You couldn’t stand the thought of him alone, out in the cold rain, hurt.

Despite every instinct, you pulled up the number he called from and texted him.

Today 11:14pm

Where are you?

Today 11:16pm

‘Unknown’ shared their location with you.

You grabbed your coat and keys and ran out the door before you had time to second guess yourself. You found him lying on the beach, his clothes soaked through from the rain that was still falling heavily. He’d clearly thrown up, just a few feet from where he was laying now. You ran to his side and quickly checked that he was breathing.

“Jesus, Rafe,” you recoiled at the overwhelming aroma of booze radiating off of him.

His eyes flew open at the sound of your voice. 

“Baby?” he groaned.

“We gotta get out of here, Rafe,” you struggled to help him up.

With an enormous amount of effort, you got him into your car. He leaned his head against the cold window as you drove, his breath fogging up the glass with each exhale. You looked over at him every few seconds to make sure he was still conscious. 

Once in your apartment, stumbling through the door with his arm over your shoulder, you led him into the bathroom, guiding him to sit on the edge of the tub while you ran the shower, water heating slowly.

You tapped his arms. 

“Up,” you instructed. He lifted his arms obediently and looked up at you through half-lidded eyes as you peeled off his wet polo, doing everything you could to avoid staring at his bare torso.

“Think you can do the rest yourself?” You motioned to his lower half.

“No,” he said with a smirk.

“Rafe,” you warned, not playing around.

“I can do the rest myself,” he said with his hands up in defense. 

You left him in the bathroom fumbling with his belt. While he showered, you brewed a pot of coffee and poured two steaming mugs, sitting uneasily at the table when he finally emerged from the bathroom. He was in only his boxers and you blushed aggressively, as if you hadn’t seen him naked a hundred times before. He caught the redness in your cheeks as you looked down at your hands, swallowing hard.

“Sorry,” he said earnestly. “My clothes are still wet.”

You pushed back your chair and walked to your bedroom, returning with folded clothes in your hands. He looked suspiciously at the men’s t-shirt and basketball shorts you gave him, cocking his eyebrow at you. You just glared back at him, tilting your head slightly as if to say I dare you to give me shit about where I got them. He didn’t push it, pulling them on wordlessly.

“Coffee?” You offered once he was dressed.

“Please,” he slumped into the chair across from you, sipping the coffee with a sigh.

“Feeling better?” You asked.

“Much better, thanks,” he said. “Never mix rum and redbull.”

You snorted, “I could’ve told you that.”

“Well you weren’t there were you?” The sentence started playfully but ended with a bite.

You sipped your coffee, wondering who would be first to acknowledge the elephant in the room. You sat in silence for a few minutes, both drinking your coffee and letting the air grow thick between you.

Finally, he caved and spoke first, “why’d you leave?”

“Why would I stay?” You responded, voice dripping with spite.

“I- I guess I don’t know.” Now it was Rafe avoiding your eyes.

“Does she know…about me?” You asked timidly.

“No,” he mumbled, before sipping up the last drop of his coffee.

“And where does she think you are right now?” 

“My bachelor party.”

“We should get you back there, then.” You stood and collected both mugs, bringing them to the sink.

Rafe scoffed, “you’re kicking me out again?”

“I never kicked you out, Rafe. You left,” you said, clutching the edge of the sink, bracing for an argument.

But he didn’t argue, he just let the silence settle between you for a long moment before finally saying, “I wish I hadn’t. I miss you.”

You turned, expecting to find him still slumped over the table, but he had stood and was now startlingly close. You jolted, squaring your shoulders in defense as he got closer to you.

“Don’t say that,” you pleaded. “I can’t do this with you.”

“Then why’d you come get me?” He asked, his eyelids low as he looked down at you. ���Why’d you bring me here?

“Why’d you call me?” You asked back.

“I asked you first,” he said, no playful smile to match his childish words.

“Why does it matter?” You sighed.

“‘Cause it does, it matters to me, please just give me a reason,” his voice grew more desperate as he stepped even closer to you, his looming body caging you against the sink. He searched your face as he waited for you to respond, needing an answer you couldn’t give him.

“Are you gonna marry her?” Your words tightened the tension already growing between you, causing Rafe to close his eyes in frustration.

“I don’t want to talk about her,” he shook his head. 

Rafe lifted his hand slowly, placing it on your waist. He squeezed gently at the soft skin of your side. You leaned into his touch for just a second before coming to your senses.

“Are you? Going to marry her?” You repeated stubbornly.

“Yes,” He said, eyes falling from your face to his hand on your side.

“Then you shouldn’t be touching me,” you grabbed Rafe’s hand and lowered it from you. “I won’t be a mistress. I won’t be that dirty pogue who fucks a married guy, I wanna be something better than that.” 

You slipped out from between him and the sink, pacing to the other side of the room, but his body turned aggressively to follow you.

“You are. You’re so much better,” his voice cracked with urgency as he rushed to reassure you.

You shook your head in anger, raising your voice as you snapped, “then why are you marrying someone else?”

“Because I have to!” He matched your heated tone, as if he was the one to have something to be mad about.

“We’re going in circles, Rafe! We are in the exact same spot we were six months ago! Except I’m a different person now. It changed me, losing you. I got better, I got healthy, I got sober. I got over you!” You were yelling now, searching for the words to make him understand that he wasn’t the only one who had something to lose now.

“Well I didn’t get over you,” he stated simply.

“No, you got engaged,” you pointed out.

“Fuck that, fuck her, you know I don’t love her!” He scoffed. “You saw her today, you know she’s a bitch.”

“That’s really nice, Rafe, you should put that in your vows,” you huffed sarcastically.

“Oh c’mon, she doesn’t love me either,” he rolled his eyes. “She still fucks around, everyone knows it.”

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, but it took you by surprise. You searched his face for a sign as to whether it was true or just something he made up to make you sympathize with him. The way his eyes fell to the ground and the apples of his cheeks blushed slightly told you it was true, she cheated on him, and he was ashamed of it. It made you sick, the thought of someone having him so close and caring so little. The only thing worse than the thought of her treating him like that was the thought of him accepting it as if it was what he deserved. You should’ve felt sad for him, but it just made you angrier.

“Then why, Rafe? Why?” You knew you were becoming a broken record but you just could not wrap your head around his choice. “Why are you still with her?” You hated the way it made you sound like you were blaming him for her actions, but you needed to understand.

“Because I’m going to have to end up with someone like her anyway, I may as well just get it over with,” he said with a resigned shake of his head.

“That’s fucked up, Rafe,” you said, even though you knew he already knew it.

“It is what it is,” he shrugged, defeated.

Your eyes caught the clock on your stove. It was almost 1am. Rafe was supposed to be saying his vows in twelve hours, and you knew if he stood here in your apartment for another minute, looking at you so helplessly, you’d crumble for him.

“I think you should go home,” you said, trying and failing to mean it.

“Not yet,” Rafe said, his tone implying there was something more he was waiting for.

And even though you wanted to, you just couldn’t give it to him. 

Mustering the last of your pride, you took a deep breath and said, “If you’re waiting for me to ask you not to marry her, we’re both gonna be disappointed. I’ve been doing good, Rafe. I got my life together, and I won’t be responsible for ruining someone else’s. It’s not on me, you have to decide. If you don’t want to marry her, then don’t marry her. But do it for you, because I’ve got me covered.”

Rafe considered your words, standing completely still as they washed over him. He had to choose. He could either ruin his reputation and potentially lose his family to be happy with you or keep the lifestyle he’d grown so accustomed to and be miserable with her. He looked so sad, and you desperately wanted to ask him what he was thinking, but you stayed silent, wanting him to say what he was feeling all on his own for once. You needed a simple answer.

But Rafe Cameron never did anything the simple way.

He didn’t say anything,  he just started walking toward you. Once he was close enough to touch you, and your back was against the wall, he reached up to touch your face gently with one finger, silently asking if you were still in pain from your collision earlier. When you didn’t wince or push him away, he leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to yours.

“Just one more time, please. Don’t kick me out, be with me one more time,” he whispered against your skin.

You shook your head slowly, whispering back, “I won’t kick you out, but I also won’t let you touch me and then marry her.”

“Fine, I won’t touch you.” 

Rafe leaned back, only slightly, pulling his face away so you were level with his chest. He folded his hands behind his back to show you he meant it. You could smell his familiar musk, his chest so close to your face you could hear his heartbeat as you looked up at the pulsing veins in his neck. His hair, still wet from the shower, flopped messily over his forehead. A single drop fell from his bangs and landed on your collarbone. Rafe’s eyes darkened as he tracked the droplet rolling across your exposed skin, down your chest, over the curve of your tits and finally disappearing into your tank top.

Eyes locked to Rafe’s, you lifted your hand slowly, placing it over the spot the water had fallen, sliding your fingers delicately down the drop’s path. When you reached the neckline of your tank top, Rafe’s eyes consuming every movement, you reached up with your other hand and lowered one of the straps of your top slowly. You dragged your hand down further, cupping your breast through your lacy bralette and biting your lip at the pressure.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He put one hand on the wall next to your head to steady himself, bringing his body impossibly closer while still not touching you. His other hand fell to his side, moving dangerously close to his dick.

“You better not touch yourself either, or I swear to god I’ll stop,” you warned him.

“Don’t stop,” He brought the drifting hand up to the wall on the other side of your head. “Please, baby.”

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his voice, raspy and strained with need. With two hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled it slowly over your head, leaving you in just the see-through undergarment. 

“Take that off too,” Rafe tried to sound dominant, but his voice cracked, betraying him.

“You’re not in any position to make demands,” you scolded with a shake of your head. “And you’re not going to see me naked. You have a fianceé for that.”

Rafe was pained by this, his nostrils flailing as he clenched his jaw in frustration. You ignored him and put your hands back on your body, palming both of your tits again before trailing lower over your stomach. Rafe’s tongue darted out of his mouth and licked his lips as he watched the way your stomach flexed with anticipation, hands finally landing on the waistband of your sleep shorts. One hand pulled the elastic back while the other slid beneath it slowly. When your fingers ran over the fabric of your panties, teasing your clothed clit, your head fell back against the wall and your jaw fell slack. Rafe ran one of his hands through his hair as he watched pleasure flood your face, desperate to touch something, anything. The hand still on the wall closed into a fist. You started rubbing circles over your clit through your panties, the fabric already soaked through, wet since the sight of him in his boxers. Your breath hitched when you found the perfect rhythm and you closed your eyes tight, a melodic moan rising from your throat.

“Fuck baby, you’re so fucking sexy,” Rafe growled through gritted teeth.

Your eyes flew open and you pulled your hand from your shorts, suddenly very aware of the lack of space between you and the vulgarity of what you were doing. You slid under his arm and hurried to the other side of the kitchen.

“You should go,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around yourself and shivering at the sudden loss of his warmth.

Rafe stayed still, trying not to spook you. His head dipped low, looking down at his ringing hands.

“I missed you,” he mumbled helplessly.

“You mean you missed fucking me?” You asked spitefully.

One agonizingly slow step at a time, Rafe crossed the room. You turned from him as if to push him away, literally giving him the cold shoulder. But he wasn’t deterred, he just got closer and closer until he was right behind you, close enough for his breath to sweep across your shoulder as he said, “yeah, what if I do? I miss it so much. There’s not a day that passes without me wishing I was here, fucking you so good you scream my name.”

His arrogant words made you so fucking angry, and so fucking wet.

What little resistance you had mustered disappeared. Breathless, you whispered, “what else do you miss?”

“I miss your little moans,” he continued, the corner of his lips raising slightly at the sight of the goosebumps that shot up your arms. “I bet you still cry out for me when you make yourself come, don’t you? I want you to show me.”

“We can’t do this,” you shook your head.

“No, I can’t do this,” he corrected you. “You can do whatever you want.”

No fight left, you took his suggestion, and soon you were laying back on your bed, your shorts thrown on the floor, your hand moving feverishly under your panties. Rafe laid next to you, his body drawn in as close as it could possibly get while keeping his promise not to touch you. You’d made no such promise, the hand you weren’t rubbing over your slick folds gripping his arm for purchase as you moaned at your own touch.

“Talk to me,” you begged.

“Yeah?” He said excitedly, as if he had been waiting for permission. 

You nodded desperately, bringing your eyes to his as one of your fingers dropped down to enter yourself.

“You remember the first time we fucked?” He began. “Right here on this bed. I took you from behind. You were so tight around my cock, like you were fucking made for me.”

You added a second finger, driven by his filthy words. His jaw clenched, restraining himself with more effort than he’d ever given anything as he watched you writhe.

“Keep going,” you whined, eyes squeezed shut.

“I had to turn you around, I had to see that pretty face when you came for me for the first time,” he recalled. “God, I bet you wish it was me stretching you out right now, don’t you? You wish it was my cock pounding you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, huh?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, lips pouting, overwhelmed by the memories and your need to feel him.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, feeling himself twitching in his pants, desperate for his own release but committed to yours. “I need to see you come, baby, one more time. Please come for me?”

You cried out as you clenched around your own fingers, their size so inadequate with him so close, knowing what he could be doing to you. But you meant what you said, you couldn’t let him touch you, not while his bride was sleeping just across town, no idea her groom was in some pogue’s bed, begging her to come for him. Maybe it was sick, but the thought of him being so desperate for you that he was risking everything with her made your thighs clench around your hand, nearing the edge.

“Tell me about the first time you saw me,” you pleaded, the rasp in your voice warning him you were close. 

“Holy shit, baby, you were so fucking sexy,” he said, rising up from the bed and propping himself on his arm to hover over you, the proximity throwing you into even more of a frenzy. “Dancing in that club, the way you move, shit, I wanted to lay you down on that dancefloor and fuck you right there. So did every other guy in there. But they didn’t get to have you, I did. And I’ve never been the same since I first touched you.”

It was all too much, his words, the memory, the sensation of your fingers sliding in and out so easily, the way he was talking making you so wet. Your high crashed into you like a truck, your back arching off the bed, your chest bumping into his as you came with his name on your lips.

“There she is, that’s my girl,” Rafe exhaled as you rode out your high. Eventually, your muscles gave out from the pleasure and you slumped back into the bed.

He watched you in rapture as your chest rose and fell with labored breaths, struggling to recover. Neither of you knew what to do next, the shock of what just happened washing over you. Your body was so exhausted from the chaos of the day and the aftershocks of your orgasm, all you wanted was him, and you were too tired to fight it.

“Rafe?” You whispered into the darkness of your bedroom, the light of the moon the only thing illuminating the small space.

“Yeah?” He whispered back.

“Can you hold me?” Your voice sounded so small, and you hated the vulnerability of your request, but at this moment the only thing you wanted in the world was to feel his arms around you.

“I thought you didn’t want me to touch you?” He teased gently.

“I said I’m getting better, not that I’m perfect,” you smiled, turning your body towards him. “And I want to know what it feels like to fall asleep in your arms. Just once.”

“Is it gonna be an issue?” He asked. You knew what he really meant was, “are you going to regret sleeping with an engaged man?”

The answer was yes, but you didn’t care.

“Just let me be a little selfish,” you said, turning around so your back was against his chest, pulling his arm around you. “I had you first.”

“You still have me,” he whispered against your neck, pulling your body into his.

“Shhh,” you said, lifting your fingers gently to his lips. “Go to sleep, Rafe.”

He smiled and did as he was told.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

The sunlight landing on your face is what woke you from the deepest and sweetest sleep you’d had in six months. Your first instinct was to smile, humming in satisfaction as you stretched your well rested muscles.

Your second instinct was to reach for him. 

You shouldn’t be surprised, shouldn’t pull your knees to your chest, shouldn’t be crying alone in your cold bed. Of course he left. He was always going to leave.

Some small, pathetic voice in the back of your mind said, “maybe he just went to break things off with her.”

Even though it made you feel like the most pitiful girl in the world, you checked his location, still available from the night before. He was on Figure 8, the address you had gone to yesterday. He was at his wedding. 

He had wanted you to ask him not to marry her. He never would’ve said it, but you could see it on his face. He had too much to lose, too many people depending on him, too much weight on his shoulders. But maybe he would’ve given it all up, if only you’d asked.

You threw your phone across the room in frustration. Maybe you should’ve just asked him to stay with you, maybe you should’ve put your pride aside this one time, maybe this was all your fault. 

You were up and out of bed before you had time to talk yourself out of it. You pulled on your catering clothes from the night before. Surely, they wouldn’t let you in the gate if you looked like some wedding crashing pogue, but maybe you could slip in undetected if it seemed like you still worked there.

You don’t even remember driving there, your stomach on fire with nerves and something that might even be excitement, as you raced across the island. The clock in your car read 1:03pm, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that the ceremony had started late.

As you planned, they let you right in the gate when you said you were with the caterer. You didn’t even bother to park at the service entrance, your tires squealing as you came to a stop right in front of the house, leaving the engine running as you ran towards the ceremony site. You could hear music playing in the distance, hoping it was the processional. 

But when you turned the corner, you heard a large crowd break into applause. You came to a halt, backing up to hide under the cover of a tree a few yards from the end of the aisle. You watched as Rafe appeared, his beaming bride on his arm. He dipped her low, giving her a kiss as the crowd cheered again, the gold ring on his left hand glinting in the sunlight.

You were too late.

₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ *˚˚₊ ˚ ‧₊ .:･˚₊ ˚ ‧₊

pt. 3 coming soon

[reiderwriter]

♡ Girls Just Wanna Have Fun ♡

Week 5 of my Playlist Series ♡

Summary: Spencer isn't used to clubs, but when duty calls, he's made to feel a little bit more welcome by a girl who seems to know him better than a stranger should.

Warnings: Smut 18+ Minors DNI!! Hotchner!Reader (Reader is Hotch's sister), semi-public sex (x2 oops), oral sex (m receiving), fingering, dry humping, hand job, cum play, dirty talk, degradation and name calling (slut only), use of daddy/sir even though this is like solidly season 1 Spencer lmao, corruption kink, loss of virginity (surprisingly the readers)

A/N: Every single intrusive thought I've ever had about s1 Reid tied up in a nice little bow masquerading as a song fic. It is finished, and now I feel flushed. Please expect only fluff from me until my next intrusive thought (maybe half an hour, probably no longer).

Masterlist || Spotify Playlist

Flashing lights and the scent of dried up alcohol stains weren't usually signs of Spencer Reid's presence. He'd managed to get through college - two degrees and three PhDs - without stepping foot into a nightclub. But now that he'd joined the BAU, it seemed to be an unavoidable occurrence. 

“The unsub hunts at this nightclub, I get that, I do. But why am I the one going in? He's targeting women,” he panicked as his older team member helped adjust his clothes to conceal the weapon he carried. 

“Because, pretty boy, it's student night, and you're the only one here who can pass for a 21 year old. I guess late puberty has some benefits.” Derek smacked his arm playfully, leaving the younger man wincing slightly. 

“But I'm not a woman.” 

“Yes, but you'll be able to walk around and note any suspicious behaviour, and then we can tail suspects you flag,” Hotch explained to him again. 

“Just act natural, kid, it's not like it's your first time in a club.” 

“It is.” His warnings fell on deaf ears though, as they pushed him out of the van and into the crowd of students queueing to enter. 

It didn't take you long to notice him after you arrived at the club.

The sweater vest was enough to make him stand apart slightly, as much as he was trying his best to blend in. A slight tingle of familiarity raced up your spine as his eyes awkwardly met yours, his scan of the room stopping short as he flushed and turned his eyes down. 

Pushing slightly to the crowd, you leaned over the counter next to him and tried to get the bartenders attention. It was loud and busy, but catching attention and keeping it was a skill you'd mastered early, a skill that you were thankful for as you realised the man's eyes were guiltily flicking between your ass and the crowd once again. 

“Are you going to stare, or are you going to introduce yourself,” you giggled, sliding closer to his perch at the bar, as he panicked, standing straighter. 

“I wasn't, um… your dress, there's a rip at the edge of your skirt, I was trying to figure out if it was part of the design because I know some clothes these days have damage built into the design, or if it was in need of some emergency… sewing.” His hands gesticulating awkwardly throughout his explanation, as if anxious to show you the jumble in his brain was entirely pure and innocent, even as the flush on his face said otherwise. 

“And your name is?” 

“I-.... Spencer. My name is Spencer.” 

You stood a little straighter hearing the name, that familiarity warming you more. Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. You turned the name over in your head but took another step closer as the crowd shifted in a wave, feeling the heat coming off his body. 

“Well, Spencer,” your tongue made the decision to act for your brain, the words coming out before you could stop them. “What conclusion did you draw? Do you think the rip was intentional or not?” 

Gently, you grabbed his hand and led it to the fabric. The skirt wasn't scandalously short, but short enough to suit the dark heated atmosphere of the club at least, but as his fingers grazed the back of your thighs, still hesitant in his actions, you found yourself wishing it were just that bit higher, so his hands would have to reach further up. 

With a gaze over your shoulder at the crowd, Spencer found himself at an impass. He'd already noted a few people of interest, loiterers, men getting a bit rough and aggressive in the club, people on the outskirts (like him, he supposed) that could possibly be their unsub. 

He'd been given the all clear to disengage and leave the club as effortlessly as he could  bit something in your initial gaze had pinned him to place at the bar, and refused still to let him see reason. 

“I think it's a design feature. To draw attention to…” he swallowed hard, but you weren't sure if he was just being delicate about his words or if he was reacting to the hand that was now on him, dragging nails up from his abdomen to his chest. 

“Good observation, Spencer.” 

“Your name. You didn't tell me what your name was.” He said, grabbing your hand to stop its progress and breathing deeply as if to clear his head. 

“Y/N. We should dance.” Without giving him time to react, you abandoned your drink on the counter and pulled his arm around your waist, dragging him out to the crush of people in the middle of the dance floor. 

His protests were lost in the pulse of the music, as you kept your back to him and began grinding and swaying against him. His hands tightened on your hips as he gently started moving with you, and you threw your head back to catch his eye again. 

Spencer didn't know what he'd gotten himself into. He knew that very little actually dancing actually went on at a club, that this was just a more polite socially acceptable form of foreplay, but he didn't know that it would have such an effect on him. 

A mess of sweaty, intoxicated people spilling drinks and other fluids, and he thought he'd stay there forever if it kept your hips torturing his cock like that. 

When you glanced up at him, he was a man lost to his senses, lust clouding his eyes, mouth slightly open in a pant, you reached up to his neck and pulled his lips down to meet yours. 

You were surprised when it was his to guess to reach out first, his hand that trailed under your shirt without tours guiding it. You'd picked up a fairly innocent man at the bar and turned him into a pervert in the space of one dance. It felt like the club was watching you, how his hands grazed the skin under your breasts and caused the shiver up your spine, how your back arched to press deeper against his election. 

You may have tempted him into taking this risk, but he was the one gleefully nosediving into his fall from grace. 

“Spencer,” you whispered as he came up for air, lips resting at your ear. “I think we should get some fresh air.” 

Something in that seemed logical. It was colder outside. Maybe it would cool off whatever had lit him up like a pyre on the dance floor. Maybe the fresh air would clear his head. Or maybe just the open space would help him detangle his hands from you, would lead his thoughts away from burying himself deep in you. 

He would gladly take you outside, bid you farewell, and return to his job and his life. It was a solid exit for his first cover - who was going to question the young lovers leaving together. 

You had a feeling that the idea of outside would have Spencer pulling away from you, but you hadn't had your fill of fun just yet. 

So just as you led him onto the dancefloor, you kept a hand over his, around your waist, and you guided him out of the club, down the street a few paces, and into a darkened alleyway. 

“Y/N, we shouldn't be-” he tried to stutter out as you pulled him in for another kiss. His brain was trying to protest, but his hands were already back on your ass, pulling you up and closer to him. 

“What was that?” You said between kisses, his mouth launching an assault against each inch of your skin. 

He gasped for breath and pulled back, realising that he'd lifted and pinned you to the cold brick wall of the alley in his haste to feel you pressed against him. 

“Y/N… I don't want to take advantage of you, I'm not-” 

“I'm taking advantage of you, Spencer,” you said, nipping at his neck slowly raking your hands into his shoulders. “Am I allowed to do that? Can I take all of you, Spencer?” 

His eyes rolled back in his head as he let put a groan of pleasure, your lips sucking at the tender flesh of his nape. 

“I-I'm not a student, and-” 

“I know, but you are such a pretty boy that I decided I wanted to have some fun with you.” 

His resolve broke in half as you uttered your compliments, and his lips met yours in a moan as his hands pushed your skirt up around your waist. 

His finger trailed between your hips and his, using the wall to balance you as he pushed aside your panties and began slowly stroking your sex. 

Your hips pitched forward to press more of his slender fingers against you,  desperate to feel him stretch your cunt open first with one, then two, then however many he decided was good enough for you. 

Leaving one hand on his shoulder, you let one trail down his pants, stepping one foot down to allow you access to his zipper. 

He pauses Again for a second as you manage to get his pants open, your hand pulling his cock free from the constraint of his clothing. Spitting on your hand, you wrap around it firmly and slowly pump up and down, looking him directly in the eye as you watch the pleasure pour over him. 

His forehead rests against yours as he melts into your touch, so desperate, needing to cum so badly that he's willing to let it happen in this dark dirty alley. 

“Spencer, I want to have a lot of fun with you. Will you let me?” 

“Yes, fuck Y/N.” He nods, his hips rocking into your hand with each slow stroke you give him. 

“Spencer,” you say, rocking your hips forward and pushing your panties further to the side once again. “Spencer, please fuck me. Take my virginity, Spencer, please.” 

His mind whirled at the sentence, the pleas dropping from your lips. Virginity. You were a virgin. 

You'd had him cock stiff after three minutes of conversation  had pulled him into an alleyway and lost him in a fog of pleasure, and you were still innocent. Untouched. 

You wanted to have your fun with him. You'd chosen him. 

He couldn't articulate the lust that coated his tongue, so he simply pushed it into your mouth  grabbed his cock from your hands, lined himself up with your drippy cunt and pushed in with a single thrust. 

You gasped and let out a moan, not quite fully pleasurable. Your hands again found his shouldend, his back, but your nails were sharper this time, digging in further, almost piercing skin. 

“Fuck, Spencer, yes,” you said, breathing shakily as you slowly started moving around his cock. 

“Did it hurt?” 

“It doesn't hurt anymore. Now, please Spencer, fuck me and don't hold back. It's more fun that way.” 

He pulled your hips closer, moaning as you tightened around him. Pressing one hand against the wall and keeping another hand gripped so hard around your hip you knew it'd bruise, he began moving. 

He began slow, trying not to lose himself in the feel of your unused, tight hole. But with each small moan, each scratch against his back, he lost a little bit more of that control he was begging for. 

With his hands engaged, his brows furrowed I'm frustration that he couldn't stroke your bundle of nerves, he couldn't force you to cum on his cock as quickly as he wanted to. 

“Y/N, look at me.” You opened your eyes at the words, unaware that they'd closed tight as you emptied all other senses to just feel him. 

“Touch yourself. Right there, that's it,” he watched your fingers rub delicately against your skin, spoke little words of encouragement, and told you to increase your speed and pleasure. 

“That's it. That's it, now it's time for you to cum, Y/N. Cum on my cock, rub your little clit for me and cum around my big cock, Y/N.” 

“Shit… shit, shit, shit, Spencer, oh my god.” Your hands shook, and your hips twitched, and with a cry, you reached that high you'd been craving since you met his eyes earlier. 

He pulled out of you, slowly pulling you off the wall, as he held you up, letting your legs regain their strength. His cock was still hard, still coated in your arousal as he took care of you. 

You caught your breath fast, regained tour strength quicker as you noticed he didn't plan on getting himself off anymore. He let you have your fun with him and was happy to end it all there. 

You weren't. 

“Spencer,” you sang again, wrapping a hand once again around his erection as he tried to straighten out your now slightly more ripped skirt. “Spencer, it's more fun of we both cum. I want you to make a mess of my hand, can you do that for me?” 

You stroked his cock with a firmer grip than before, your arousal lubricating each stroke, his pre-cum mingling with it to aid you further. You suddenly wondered what he would taste like, but knew your legs would be too weak to do everything your heart desired today. 

There was always tomorrow. 

He leaned his weight back on the wall behind you, forcing you back as well as you pumped him quickly so desperate to hear him moan your name as he spilt his seed. 

“Y/N,” he moaned, and you were triumphant. His hips jerked once, then twice, then a third time, and he stilled, heaving breaths as he buried his head in your shoulder. 

He swallowed and regained his breath, and as he pulled away, you pulled your fingers to your lips and lapped up the final drops of cum that he left there. 

Most of it had his the wall, dripped to the floor, but you enjoyed these few drops and smiled brightly at him, pulling a handkerchief that you knew would be in his pocket out and cleaning the two of you up. 

He flushed again as he came back to his senses, especially as you attempted to put his clothed to rights, stepping back to replace his softening cock in his pants.

“Well,” you said after setting yourself to rights, “Thank you for the fun night, Spencer. See you tomorrow.” 

You skipped off quickly before he had a second to even process your words. 

The next day at the local precinct was a blur for Spencer as he tried to drag himself from the drug induced haze of meeting you. He'd stroked himself to completion two more times in bed after he returned to his motel room, reliving the sound of you begging him to take you, the words ‘pretty boy’ on your lips as you spread your legs. 

It'd taken his entire brain, or what was left of it, to not jump out of his skin every time Morgan had teased him with the words that morning.

“Now how did you like your first club experience, pretty boy? Did any college cuties throw themselves at you?” 

He spat up his coffee, choosing that moment to choke, and begging god for this to just be the end of Spencer Reid entirely. 

Because there was no way Morgan would actually believe that that was exactly what had happened. 

“Morgan, Gideon wants you in the interrogation room, and- wow, Spencer, you should change your shirt. What are you, 5? You can't drink coffee properly?” Elle said, chuckling slightly.

“I choked,” he frowned, but it fell on deaf ears as his teammates walked away quickly to get back to their jobs. 

He wished he could recover so quickly, even now the image of you having your fun with him the night before playing like a movie in his head. 

Looking down, he realised Elle was right, and he really did need to change his shirt. Hotch always had a few spare on hand, even for cases out of the office. He grabbed some tissues, dabbing against the mess of coffee on his shirt, suddenly thankful for lukewarm police precinct coffee, and started making his way towards Hotch. 

“Hey, Hotch-” he made it three steps before your voice cried out. 

“Ronnie!!” You shouted, throwing your hands around your elder brother as he caught you in a hug. 

“Y/N, we're at a police station. If you're going to come see me, you have to at least call me Aaron.” 

“And not take the chance to embarrass you in front of your peers and coworkers? Not a chance, Ronnie. Not a chance.” He chuckled fondly, brushing away his complaints quickly as he turned to introduce you to JJ first, then Elle and then the frozen statue that had replaced Spencer. 

“And, Y/N, this is Dr. Spencer Reid. Spencer, this is my sister, Y/N. She's a student at the university.” 

You held out your hand with a triumphant grin as Spencer stared in wide-eyed horror at the apparition in front of him. 

“Hello, Spencer. It's very nice to finally meet you. My brother has told me a lot about you, and I'm very excited to pick your brains.” 

The air seemed to explode around Spencer as each breath became deliriously hot, filling his lungs with fire. It was moments before he realised that he wasn't actually breathing at all, and the air was actually quite normal. 

Your hand remained out, ready to greet him, and to the surprise of his coworkers, he took it in his for a short shake. 

“Y/N. Hotch's sister, Y/N. Nice to meet you, Y/N Hotchner, Hotch's sister.” 

He could practically hear the audible sound of Elle and JJ smacking a hand against their faces in horror at his stupidly obvious reaction to the woman in front of him. If he wasn't careful, he'd be spouting confessions of desire soon, and knowing that Aaron Hotchner carried two guns on his person even now did nothing to calm his thoughts. 

“Okay, well, Y/N, I'm busy with some interrogations now, but I can drive you back to your apartment in half an hour if you're okay to wait with JJ?” 

“Are you busy, Spencer?” You asked instead, keeping her eyes locked on the man who still weakly shook her hand, unaware of when the right time to stop would be. 

“I was serious when I said I wanted to pick your brain, my brother said you had a PhD in Engineering and I'm struggling through a class right now that I need some guidance in if you can spare five minutes?” 

Spencer stared between Hotch and you, looking for the right answer to please present itself before he imploded right there. 

“Yes. PhD, I have a PhD. Three actually, but whose counting? Me. I just counted them. One of them is in mathematics, actually, so I guess I'm always counting.” He finally dropped your hand, and you gave him a wider smile that dropped his heart to his stomach. “I am free, unless you needed me for something else, Hotch?” 

His gaze was pleading, though he wasn't sure if he was begging for his life, five more minutes alone with you or the power to extricate himself from this situation entirely, but Hotch nodded his acceptance quickly and let you lead Spencer off to the small, empty visitors room at the opposite side of the precinct. 

You shut the door behind you when you walked in, leaning over to close the blinds as well before you turned back to Spencer. 

“Your shirt is wet. You should probably take it off,” you giggled as you trailed a hand up his arm once again. 

His hand grabbed yours before you could do any more damage to his tender nerves than you'd already managed that morning. 

“You knew the entire time? Who I was?” 

“I walked over because you seemed familiar, but I only figured it out when you said your name. My brother does talk about you a lot.”

“Hotch is going to kill me,” he said, slumping down into the chair behind him. “Y/N, your brother was outside the club. He could've seen us leave.” 

You climbed into his lap, and his eyes finally met yours again, his tongue stopping its hopeless tirade as you relaxed into his chest. 

“I have two older brothers, Spencer. Do you know how often they've been able to tell me what to do?” Your hands started down his shirt, making quick work of the buttons as he stared up, enthralled. 

“Not once have they been able to stop me from doing something I wanted.” 

He scoffed quickly, unable to help himself. Your hands gripped either side of his face and lifted his head to meet your gaze again. 

“And right now, Spencer, I really want you.” A roll of your hips was enough to have him hissing and grabbing your hips. You started steadily rocking into him, eyes still locked with his. 

“Y/N, please let's be sensible.” 

“I don't want to be sensible, I want to have fun. I want to suck your dick right here, and let you cum in my mouth. I want to scream your name and let everyone know who is giving me pleasure. Can't I do that, Spencer?” 

“No,” he groaned, his eyes screwed shut as you dry humped him, trying to get yourself off on his lap, his.cock rising with each of your quiet moans. 

“Spencer, please. I want your big, hard cock back inside me. Please, please, please. I'll be a good girl, I promise.” 

His eyes shot open in incredulity as he watched you use his body as you saw fit. 

“Good girls don't lose their virginities in alleyways, Y/N. Good girls don't throw themselves at their brothers' coworkers. Good girls listen when they're told no, and don't try to suck cock in public, like little sluts.” He spat each word at you, bit you enjoyed each insult he hurled your way, enjoyed the way his body recoiled as he finally called you a slut. 

He seemed slightly shocked by his anger himself, but you didn't seem to care. It took you only seconds after to push your lips against his again and have your hands on his cock once again, pulling him out of his pants as his hands explored you just as eagerly. 

“Yeah, Spencer, your little slut. I'm such a little slut for you, please fuck me.” 

He buried a hand in your hair, tipping your head back so his tongue could probe deeper, his other hand already under your shirt and teasing one nipple. You lifted your hips and sunk down onto his cock, neither of you stopping to think again about your actions as you began to rode him. 

“30 minutes, Y/N, by now we have 24 minutes and 17 seconds. Can you manage that, Y/N?” 

“Yes, sir.” You said, feeling his dick twitch as you rode him. “Oh did you like that? You liked me calling you, sir?” His hips pressed up again, his body answering more honestly than his tongue. 

“What else can I call you? Spencer… sir….daddy?” 

He broke away from his place buried in your neck to push the two of you down to the floor, the new angle had you gasping as a hand covered your mouth stifling any screams you could make before you made them. 

“Be quiet and cum on my cock, Y/N,” he whispered and picked up his pace, one hand gagging you while the other pulled painfully at your nipple, pinching it between two hands and using it to lift your entire chest so your body was arched toward him, letting him go deeper. 

“Yes, Daddy,” you whispered again, against his fingers, tempted to wrap your lips around one and suck it into your mouth. 

“Fuck, just call me Spencer, Y/N.” 

But you couldn't respond, suddenly overcome with the numbness of you orgasm washing over you as you bit back a choked cry. 

“That's it, good job, Y/N. You listen so well, good job.” He rubbed soothing circles into your chest as his hips slowed, working you through your orgasm as he withdrew once again. 

This time though, he didn't try to pull away and leave himself hard, but sat himself up, and lifted you once again too, putting slight pressure at the back of your head until you were on your knees and letting your head fall down, down, down as your lips wrapped around his wet cock. 

You took him in your mouth, and tasted the bitter, salty flavor of your illicit activities, lapping every last bit of your joint pleasure up as he pushed your hair up and down his cock. 

It didn't take long for his hips to press up into your mouth slightly harder than before, his hands holding you steady as he came down your throat. He held your head there for a minute two, as you tried your best to breathe and stay there, taking as much of his cum down your throat as you could. He pulled your head off him and you swallowed the rest, smiling brightly at him as you did so. 

“Thank you for the fun, Spencer,” You said again, grabbing your phone and checking the time. 

Standing up, you pulled your clothes back in place, pulling your skirt down and your panties up, smoothing out the tangles in your hair. 

“Let me go get you that spare shirt, Doctor Reid,” you said, opening the door. “I'm very grateful for your help with my class load, sir.” 

His head fell back into his hands as you closed the door, leaving him to wonder just what the hell he'd got himself in for. 

[miabebe]

Reverse Trope Series - Accidently Kidnpping A Mafia Boss (Teaser)

Kidnapping the Yoon Jeonghan was not on your 2024 bingo but sometimes, shit happens right?

Pairing - Yoon Jeonghan x afab!reader

Word Count - Teaser is 1.3K, I'm not gonna promise a number for the full fic just yet

Genre - Strangers to something more than that I guess? Crack because there’s ‘dumb’, ‘dumber’, ‘dumbest’, and ‘dumbest of them all’ so you can imagine and also angst, just a small splash and smut. Loads of it (not here but in the full fic)

Warnings - none for the teaser, mentions of kidnapping and mafia. (But just to be clear, this is not like your usual mafia fics - it’s not dark, there’s no violence and things of that sort)

Estimated posting date - I have a shit ton on my plate right now so I don’t want to stress myself out with a deadline! If you want to be in the loop, please follow me or join the taglist by commenting, sending a message or an ask, thank you!

Thank you @taechwita613 for bearing my annoying self yet again 💕

"You're being a real pain in my ass right now." 

"I don't see how it’s an issue since that’s not much of an ass." 

Seokmin glared at Seungkwan.

"Just because some stupid college club awarded you a silly superlative-"

"-best bakery in town is not a ‘silly’ superlative-"

"-like once-"

"-twice. In a row-" 

"-doesn't mean-" 

"-absolutely does-" 

"Will you two shut up?" You hissed under your breath looking around. "Are you trying to get us all caught?" 

Seungkwan clicked his tongue annoyed. "You're acting like we're in the middle of a crime." 

Your eyes flickered from Seokmin to Seungkwan before landing on the third guy between them, the one who was unconscious and being held up with his arms thrown over the shoulders of your friends. 

"Last I checked, kidnapping is a crime." You pointed out.

Seokmin rolled his eyes. "Pranking your friend isn't."

"That is if Soonyoung decides he wants to save your sorry ass."

"Again, not much of an ass-" 

"I swear to god Kwan-" 

Groaning you covered your ears to shut out all the bickering. 

That night when drunk Soonyoung had pushed your buttons, consequently leading to the events of tonight, you did not think it would be this hard. 

The plan was simple - on Mondays Soonyoung was in charge of closing the BBQ shop where all 3 of your closest friends worked part time. His routine was fairly straightforward - first he clears and cleans all the tables, then he closes the kitchen, then changes out of his uniform and finally wraps it up by locking the main door. 

That's where you would get him, right as he closed the doors. You were to take him by surprise from the back, cover his face with a black cloth bag then bring him to your apartment and tie him up leaving him immobile, blinded and helpless. 

One might wonder why such cruelty when you called him a friend but you would argue that Soonyoung deserved it. After all that night, he hadn't stopped mentioning how you were boring and your life was so uninteresting and you didn't have a single exciting adventure while he had a shit ton of them. Well, today you were about to give yourself, and him, a story to tell.

Now things did go according to plan, for the most part. Seokmin and Seungkwan were first reluctant to be a part of this madness but that was until you brought up the prospect of Soonyoung being scared enough to hopefully piss in his pants. Intrigued by the idea, they joined and all three of you waited in the bushes, watching your friend's silhouette moving around the shop, putting things away, cleaning up. Just as he reappeared after changing, hurriedly trying to leave the shop, the three of you got to action, approaching him silently from the back, swiftly holding him by the hands and putting the bag over his face. 

What you didn't take into account in this plan was just how much resistance Soonyoung would show, God knows why you didn't consider his adrenaline driven reaction, but man did he put up a fight. It was only natural you retaliate and so instinctively, you landed a smack on his head with the torch in your hand knocking him out, making him buckle into the pavement as the two other boys caught him, looking at you bewildered.

That was perhaps just the beginning of your problems because now you had to very unsuspiciously drag a very unconscious man to your apartment in the dead of the night. It would have helped if this neighbourhood was even a little sketchy but being a quiet, painfully uneventful suburb meant even the smallest of things was seen with high scrutiny. 

So far, the three of you had somehow managed to make it from the restaurant to your building undetected but it was getting from the first floor to your house that was the real task since the building's resident old woman decided she wanted to feed the stray cats at 2 am. 

"How much longer are we gonna have to do this?" Seungkwan groaned. "He's surprisingly not that heavy but my arm is starting to sleep."

"Yeah, this joke isn't as funny anymore-" 

"Will you two just keep quiet?" You turned to them annoyed. "She'll be gone in a few minutes and then we can move. Didn't you guys say you wanted Soonyoung to shut up for a few days?” 

Seokmin mumbled a yes under his breath while Seungkwan nodded hesitating. Hoping for some silence after this, you turned to watch the old woman stroking the cat softly as it slowly nibbled its food. Although your patience was really being tested, something told you if you didn't go through this plan, in another 40 years, you'd be exactly like that old lady - lonely, boring and feeding stray cats. Terrified by that thought, you held it together even though it took a whole 15 minutes for the scene to clear. As the three, no four of you, proceeded towards your apartment, the stray cat watched, licking its paw. 

Seungkwan and Seokmin groaned in relief as they half threw Soonyoung onto the chair you pulled to the middle, rubbing their aching shoulders. Scouring the drawers, you pulled out a rope with a soft “aha” making them turn towards your unnaturally happy self. Soonyoung stirred in his chair.

“You're a little too excited about this-” 

“Shhh!” You covered Seokmin's mouth with your hand, whispering. “If you talk, he'll know it's us, then it's not scary anymore.”

“Frankly, I think the kidnapping and knocking him out cold must have been scary enough already.”

“Not enough” You glared as Soonyoung let out a soft groan, letting you know he was coming around. “Quick, take my phone and open that AI app. We'll type what we want to say and use the bot voice - that way he'll have no idea.” 

All three of you huddled, glancing at the phone as Seungkwan typed something quickly, pressing play to let the low toned automated voice echo through the room. 

“I cannot wait to see Soonyoung shit his pants.”

Seokmin giggled as your lips curled into a pleased smile. Oh, he was surely going to shit his pants. 

“And why would I do that?” Soonyoung's voice sounded confused.

“Because we-” 

Seokmin looked up, freezing mid-sentence, noticing the voice did not come from the person before him. 

All three of you exchanged looks realising the same before slowly turning around. Soonyoung  was standing at the entrance like he just walked in, looking bewildered. 

Before any of you could process the situation, he pointed over your shoulders, frowning.

“And who's that?”

Oh. 

“And why is he wearing my clothes?” 

Oh no.

You turned back to see the man in question, slowly pull the black bag from over his head, shaking his golden tresses away from his face. Oh lord was he gorgeous. 

As he blinked his eyes open, wondering where the hell he was, you were busy running your eyes all over his pretty features and suddenly, in that short span of 20 seconds, you had memorised where every single mole on his face was. 

Seokmin and Seungkwan held your arms on either side half hiding behind you which was stupid considering you were the biggest coward in the room. 

But somehow, as the man before you looked at all of you with narrowed, accusing eyes and tried to stand up, you swung your arm and smacked him right on the head with the torch again. All three boys gawked at you as the man fell back into the chair again, head rolling to the side, unconscious. 

“What the hell mate-”

“I'm sorry I panicked!”

“Will someone tell me what's happening? Why is he wearing my clothes-”

“Shut up Soonyoung.” Seungkwan turned to you looking terrified. “Do you have any idea what you've done?” 

“Hey, this can't be just on me, we all thought it was Soonyoung-” 

“Me???” 

“-how is this my only fault-” 

“Because!” Seungkwan raised his voice pointing a shaking finger. “The man you just knocked out again, that's…that's….”

“That's…” Seokmin's eyes widened in realisation. “That's the city’s most wanted criminal, Yoon Jeonghan.” 

A/n -I have tagged all those on the current taglist in the comments, if you wanna be added to the taglist for the fic or for the series, please let me know by leaving a comment/sending an ask or a message!

[caelesjjk]

𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕒𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕖𝕕 - 𝕛𝕛𝕜&𝕜𝕥𝕙

⟶ title: entangled ⟶pairing: spidey!jungkook x fem reader, venom!taehyung x fem reader ⟶au: marvel au ⟶ rating: 18+ ⟶ genre: romance, smut, love triangle ⟶ wc: 7.6k ⟶ warnings: Mnetions of blood and a wound, drinking, Jungkook calls you Data and Taehyung calls you Pigeon, infidelity-ish?? (you'll see), two smut scenes: oral (female and male receiving) mutiple orgasms, overstim, unprotected sex (thats a no, wrap it up) few different positions, making out, sweet kisses, nipple stuff ⟶ summary: Jeon Jungkook is Spider-Man.

He saved your life twice. But he’s also been your sweet lab partner in college for the past two years and now someone who is more than just a friend.

You care about him…maybe even love him. But something tells you that you aren’t quite sure what love even is. How could you when you have feelings for someone else as well?

Kim Taehyung is the handsome stranger you’ve seen around campus and somehow ended up dancing with at Club Onyx. You were upset that Jungkook had stood you up once again and Taehyung made you feel like you were on top of the world.

What you didn’t know that night, is the dark secret Taehyung is trying desperately to hide, but the closer the two of you get the more difficult that becomes.

⟶ authors note: hello darklings, its been such a long time. I apologize this took so long but it's finally here! I can't wait to see what everyone thinks of spidey!kook and venom!tae, they're truly my babies and I have loved writing them. This is only part one, I make no guarantees how quickly part two comes out, but I'll do my best I promise. I'm thinking probably four parts for this. enjoy! tell me all ur thots! Shoutout to M (@here2bbtstrash), Sav (@jeonjcngkook) and Kay (@tea4sykes) for looking this over and correcting my insanity and also assuring me that it's not terrible lol. Thank you all so much for your patience and help.

“So where is he?” your friend Penny says from across the table.

“He said he was coming.” You sigh, stirring your drink with the straw.

“He said that the last two times we were all supposed to study together.” Hoseok gives you a look that’s part sympathy and part annoyance.

“He’s working three part-time jobs. Not all of us have our parents paying for our apartments, Hobi.” You give him a playful glare and he returns it, followed by a poke of his tongue from between his lips.

Part of you wished you didn’t know Jungkook’s secret. That you could go back to the days where you were blissfully unaware of who he was. But back then, being stood up hurt even more because you didn’t know why.

Now you know. You know that Jungkook is Spider-Man. The infamous superhero  with powers he acquired from being bitten by a lab altered arachnid a few years ago.

He saved your life. Twice in fact. Both times it was because you were curious, too curious for your own good, and you had been suspecting something was going on with Jungkook. 

You followed him one night and watched in awe as he changed into his Spider-Man suit in an alleyway. And not just because he was Spider-Man, but because he was insanely gorgeous. You were hypnotized by the man who had been sitting next to you as your lab partner for most of the year. Who constantly hid his body beneath baggy clothes and bucket hats. 

You had always liked him a little more than you cared to admit. And after you found out the truth about him, your friendship grew into something more.

There weren’t any labels; you didn’t call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, much to your dismay. But Jungkook always told you that if the wrong person found out about the two of you, they could use you to get to him. And he needed to be able to focus on his whole saving the world gig, and not constantly worry about your safety. 

You understood. But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting a little.

You manage to study a bit longer with your friends before deciding you were far too distracted. You call Jungkook on your walk back to your apartment, but of course he doesn't  answer. 

So now you wait. And you worry.

No matter how hot the shower water is as it hits your back, it doesn’t stop the worry. You just want him to be safe, even if he pissed you off by not showing up again. 

You wrap yourself in your favorite silky robe and get comfortable on your bed with some of your homework you didn’t finish with your friends, slowly getting immersed in all of the calculations and formulas that you love so much. They were a great distraction.

Not sure how long you’ve been studying, you get up to stretch and make your way to your apartment balcony, opening the doors and stepping outside for a breath of fresh air. 

The city is always loud, but up here it isn’t so bad. The traffic sounds far away and the lights are just flickers across the skyline. You might even think it was beautiful if it wasn’t for the constant bad lurking around every corner. Or maybe you had just heard too many scary things from Jungkook.

Sighing when he pops into your head again, you turn around to head back inside only to come face to face with the superhero in question. Seeing him hanging there upside down from your doorway startles you just enough to send you stumbling backwards towards your balcony.

Before you can get too far, or even fully scream, Jungkook is shooting a web at your torso, pulling you back and into his arms as he flips down onto his feet. Your head swims from how quickly it happens.

“Data, look at me.” Jungkook’s voice is slightly muffled through his mask. “It’s just me.”

“You scared me.” You look up at him as he removes his mask and shakes out his hair, eyes finally meeting yours. 

“I’m sorry, I should’ve been…noisier.” Jungkook smiles and you almost forget that you’re angry with him. Almost.

“What are you doing here anyways?” You shove against his broad chest and feel his arm release your waist. He sighs, following you inside your apartment.

“I know you’re upset I missed the study session…” Jungkook starts to explain, but you twist back around to face him.

“If my friends hadn’t seen you around campus now and then, they would think I made you up, Jungkook. You never show. It makes me look pathetic.” You cross your arms over your chest and wait for the next excuse.

“You aren’t pathetic, Data. I’m just…” Jungkook winces when he reaches for you, a hand moving down to his ribs in pain. “Sorry, it’s healing, it's  just slow.”

“What’s healing? What happened to you?” You let the fight go for a moment, closing the space between the two of you and moving his hand out of the way.

Beneath his fingers is a large cut, bloody but half-hidden by his suit. It looks angry and inflamed. What could’ve made a cut like this?

“It’s nothing. I’ll heal up in a couple hours.” He pulls your hand away, blood stained on the tips of your fingers. 

“It won’t matter how quick you heal if it gets infected. Come in here.” Your hand wraps around his and you pull him into your small bathroom. You steady him against your vanity and move to grab your first aid kit from the cabinet above your toilet. “Take that off.” You gesture to his Spider-Man suit.

“Yes, ma’am.” Jungkook teases, gingerly working his top half out of the suit. He hisses through his teeth as he peels the suit away from his ribs and lets it hang at his hips.

You are not the universe's strongest soldier.

Your eyes drift over all the dips and curves of muscle. A perfectly sculpted chest and abs you could literally eat off of are right in front of you, scrambling every sense you have in your head. You need to focus. Stay focused on the task at hand and not his ridiculously toned body.

“You okay, Data?” he asks, humor in his voice. That horrid nickname he had given you in your first year as lab partners is feeling more endearing these days. You clear your throat.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be fine? Just tending to Spider-Man’s wounds in my extremely tiny bathroom.” You try to laugh but it doesn’t sound genuine.

You take out some bandages and gauze and get to work cleaning him up. But even as you tape down the gauze, you can visibly see the wound getting smaller. Super powers really are something else.

“Data.” Jungkook’s voice brings you back to reality. 

“What?” You sigh.

“Please come here.” His hands reach for your hips and you give in, letting him pull you until you’re flush against him, suddenly nose to nose. “That’s better.”

“I’m angry with you,” you whisper, heart pumping a bit faster in the close proximity.

“I know that you are. I’m really sorry…I swear I wanted to be there.” You look down to see him slip his gloves off and sit them on the countertop before his hands come up to cup your face.

“Then what happened? You need to tell me.” Your hands wrap around his wrists.

“There’s something out there, Data. A…monster that we can’t figure out. It’s strong…and fast. Nothing I’ve ever seen before.” His thumbs brush the corners of your mouth. 

“What does it want?” 

“It keeps breaking into the Lab across the River. It’s looking for something. No one at the lab is being very forthcoming with information.” His forehead presses to yours. “But Mr. Kim is working on that part.”

Kim Seokjin, more famously known as Ironman. He was a mentor and a good friend to Jungkook. He was helping Jungkook navigate the new world of being a superhero and also gave him a job to help him pay for school. 

“Hasn’t Mr. Kim told you to call him Jin over and over?” you tease, hands coming up to rest against his chest. Jungkook laughs quietly, pulling you closer.

“He has. Guess it just slipped out.” His hands move down to palm your ass.

“What exactly do you think you’re doing?” You raise an eyebrow in question of his actions.

“Just feels like I haven’t touched you in so long.” His warm mouth finds your throat and he presses kisses to the skin.

“Two days is a long time?” 

“It is when it comes to you. Thinking about how much I want you gets so distracting.” He nuzzles into the crook of your neck, making you giggle.

“So what I did for you two days ago wasn’t enough?” You let your hands slither down from his chest and over the planes of his stomach.

“Never enough.” His nose skims over your jaw until you’re back face to face and his lips are devouring yours. “I’d like to pay you back.” 

“How?” You moan when you’re cut off by his tongue sliding into your mouth.

“Let me show you?” Jungkook pulls away from the kiss, taking your hand and leading you out of the bathroom.

Thinking he means to lead you to your bed, you start to pull him towards it, but he seems to have other ideas, walking you back out onto the balcony. He releases your hand momentarily to slide his suit back up over his shoulders.

“What are you going to show me out here, Jungkook?” You start to feel suspicious.

“Do you trust me?” He jumps up onto your railing with ease, still holding your hand in his.

“Not if it involves you swinging me around off the side of buildings.” You start to pull back, but his other wrist shoots a web at your torso; using his inhuman strength, he pulls you up onto the railing into his arms.

“I would never let you fall. Never. Just close your eyes for a few minutes. I promise it’ll be worth it, Data.” He touches your cheek gently, and even though you want to throw up every time he does this, you close your eyes and wrap your arms as tightly as possible around his neck and your legs around his waist. “Ready?” He whispers in your ear, one strong arm wrapping around your back.

You don’t verbally answer, just nod once before burying your face into his neck.

And then the solid feeling of being on the ground disappears and the sickening feeling of free falling is very apparent. You try to breathe, squeezing yourself around Jungkook as you listen to the whooshing sound of his web shooters discharge as he swings you between the tallest buildings in the city.

“You’re doing amazing.” Jungkook kisses your cheek. “Just another minute.”

You keep your eyes clamped shut until the curiosity becomes too overwhelming, making you dare to peek just the slightest bit. You see the sun setting on the horizon, orange and purple hues slowly disappearing beneath the river. As long as you don’t think about how high up you are, it really is beautiful up here.

You soak in the feeling of Jungkook holding you so tightly because you never know when the next time may be. You hate to sound so dramatic in thinking that way, but it really is a guessing game sometimes . Your hands loosen and slide up into his hair, making him look down into your eyes and smile when he sees how fondly you’re looking back at him.

“Kiss me,” you whisper, even though there isn’t a single soul that could hear you up here.

Jungkook kisses the corner of your mouth and then the other before the softness of his lips has your eyes fluttering closed. This kiss is only gentle brushes of lips, noses grazing in the sweetest way you can imagine, all the while Jungkook is still effortlessly swinging you between buildings.

He shoots a web straight up into the air, letting it connect to the side of one of the tallest buildings, slowly pulling the two of you up until he’s reached the highest ledge, tapping your thighs so you know it’s safe to put your feet down. You kiss him once more before you open your eyes and look out at the nearly complete sunset…a thousand feet in the air.

“Why are we up here, Jungkook? You know the heights..” He kisses you again before you can finish the sentence.

“Can we try something?” He smiles, and it’s infuriating. You’re too weak for this spidey boy. You sigh with exasperation.

“I’m already very wary of saying yes.” You look away from the ledge towards the top of the building, taking note of all the intricate filigree and gargoyle statues.

“Let me make you feel good…up here.” His cheeks heat a little when he asks.

“Is this some kind of weird adrenaline thing? Why would you want that?” Your voice cracks and you sputter, disbelief heavy in your tone.

“I think it’ll be intense…feel so good.” His lips move down and his teeth nip at your jaw.

“It’s insane…” You melt into his touch and the way his mouth sucks at your neck.

“If you don’t like it, I’ll take you home. And I’ll get you naked in your bed instead.” He pulls your shirt over your head, fully knowing you’re about to give in.

“Bed sounds so good right now…”

“Please, Data…just try it.” He tosses your shirt to the side, cupping your breasts and kissing the tops of them.

“What do I have to do?” You feel too good to let the fear ruin the way he’s making you feel.

“Lie back on the ledge, with your arms above your head and your wrists crossed.” 

You let him lead you down onto the ledge, every nerve in your body hot and on edge. Jungkook makes sure that you’re settled before he stands back up straight, looking down at you while you slowly move your arms above your head the way he asked.

“You’re perfect, Data.” Jungkook stares at you a moment longer before he aims his web shooter and traps your wrists together against the concrete ledge beneath you.

Your chest heaves at the idea of being completely helpless. He’s taken away your control and your ability to touch him as you please. 

He makes quick work of the sleep pants you had been wearing, tossing them away to join the gargoyles on the rooftop. 

“Jungkook…” you whimper when he lowers himself between your legs and lies down on his stomach so he can be face to face with your heat.

“Relax, okay? I’m gonna make it up to you.” He kisses a path down your thigh, sucking gently and caressing with his tongue.

You arch your back from the ledge when he pushes your panties to the side and his mouth finally makes contact with your pussy. Just a sweet kiss at first, then a deep, swirling lick to your clit. You pull against the webbing trapping you in place, fingers begging to be in his hair.

If only the citizens of his precious city could see him right now. Face buried and tongue lapping just for you. All of it for you and not for them.

You can feel tears start to form in your eyes from the way your orgasm is already so close to crashing over you. Jungkook has spent quite a bit of time getting to know your body and memorizing the things he knows that you like.

“Come on my tongue, baby. I’ve got you.” Jungkook soothes before his mouth is back to devouring you.

One particularly harsh suck to your clit while his fingers finally join in on the fun is what sends you over the edge, clenching around his digits in spasms.

You’re lucky that no one could possibly hear you all the way up here. The moans and groans that you both make while Jungkook licks up every bit of your arousal are beyond obscene.

“Please get this web off of me,” you huff between breaths. Jungkook slowly raises his head and with a smile on his shiny face, reaches up and effortlessly rips the webbing from your wrists. 

You jolt upwards, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your hands into his soft hair. Your mouths mold together automatically, your tongue tasting yourself from his lips.

“Did you like it?” Jungkook finally asks, pulling you into his lap.

“As long as I continue to pretend we aren’t thousands of feet in the air, I enjoyed it very much.” You both smile and you lean in to kiss the corner of his pierced lip. “You can’t always distract me with your extremely talented mouth though. I just…want you to try and be in my life.” You push some hair off of his forehead before he kisses your lips once more.

“It won’t always be this crazy, Data. I promise. I just want to make sure I help Jin as much as I can with this monster.” 

“I know.” You want to tell him that you wish you came first. That there’s always going to be another monster keeping you apart. But that’s the price you pay for loving a superhero. 

“Let me take you home?” He stands up, still holding you in his arms.

“Maybe let me put my pants back on first?” You laugh as he sets you down to retrieve your pants from a gargoyle statue. 

And then you’re back in his arms and swinging back to reality.

The sun is still warm even though fall is almost in full swing. Leaves are starting to change colors and slowly drop off the trees. You love the smell of them as they dance by you on the breeze.

Something you don’t love is the damn pigeons that have made their home in the nooks and crannies of all the old buildings on campus. They fly down from their nests and make nuisances of themselves with the students, trying to get pieces of food.

You’ve been continuously shooing them away as you attempt to do your homework. 

Sitting in the courtyard on top of a patchwork blanket, you’re lost in the numbers and formulas that keep you best distracted these days. So much so that you almost don’t see Jungkook before his head is in your lap and his smiling face is looking up at you, pigeons scattering about from his sudden movements.

“Good afternoon, Data,” he says cutely. You set down your notebook and pen, leaning down to kiss him.

“How nice to see you at school for once,” you tease, pulling his bottom lip gently between your teeth.

“Mm, things have been quiet for a couple of days. I got some sleep…and I missed you.” Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you to lay down with him across the blanket.

“What are you doing?” You laugh and push against his chest.

“Making sure everyone sees me kissing you.” 

“Isn’t that dangerous?” You comb your nails through the hair at the nape of his neck. “If the wrong person sees?” 

Jungkook freezes for a moment, his eyes not meeting yours as his face scrunches in concentration. He abruptly sits up on his knees and you follow, looking around the courtyard.

“Something isn’t right.” Jungkook’s voice is low and quiet.

“What is it?” You continue to look around, seeing students walking to class or enjoying the sun in the courtyard like the two of you were.

Your eyes stop when you notice someone by the fountain taking photos with a professional type camera. His head of black messy hair is covered by a backwards black baseball hat. Long legs covered by snugly fit black jeans and his top half in a white button up, sleeves rolled halfway up in the most maddening way.

He must feel your eyes on him, because he’s suddenly looking right at you and you’re able to recognize who it is you’ve been drooling over. You feel embarrassment flood your face and body as you quickly look away, your heart racing in your chest.

Kim Taehyung. A photography student at your university. The best photography student if you remember correctly. You remember having a basic class with him your first year and he had seemed very nice. His smile was sweet, but the two of you didn’t talk to each other much at all. 

You did think he was absolutely stunning though, sometimes wishing you weren’t too shy to have spoken to him back then.

Your classes must have all been different after that, but you still see him around campus from time to time. Always taking pictures, but always alone. And last year he seemed to disappear altogether before reappearing when the new semester started.

When you get brave enough to look back up at him, you see he has his camera pointed at you, snapping pictures. You look away again so as not to alert Jungkook of what’s going on. Taehyung smiles when you look up out of the corner of your eye, before moving on to take pictures of something else. Why is your heart beating so fast?

“Everything okay?” Jungkook asks, making you jump.

“I should be asking you that,” you manage to croak out.

“That weird sense of something being off is happening… I should go.” He starts to stand up and you grab his hand.

“What about this weekend? You’re still coming out with us right?”

He bends down and captures your lips in a quick but sweet kiss. “I promise I won’t miss it.” He gently nudges your forehead with his, making you roll your eyes with a smile as you watch him jog across the courtyard.

“Was that Jungkook?” Hoseok asks, sitting down across from you on the blanket.

“Um…yeah. He had to get to class,” you lie. Again. “Hey Hobi?”

“Yeah?” He stops grabbing books from his bag and looks up at you.

“What do you know about Kim Taehyung?” You nod towards the man with the camera, still taking pictures of some angel statues on the far side of the courtyard.

“He’s supposedly the best photography major at this school. He’s also…strange.” Hobi pretends to get a chill.

“Strange? Strange how?” You’re interest even more peaked than before.

“I don’t know, ____. I just heard some shit about him talking to himself all the time, and sometimes he comes to class all beat up.” Hobi brushes it off like it’s no big deal.

You don’t pester him any further, instead watching Taehyung as he takes a seat on a bench and starts scrolling through the pictures he’s taken on his camera. 

Maybe people are making things up about him because he’s different. People don’t like different for some reason. But you…you tend to be pulled towards the different. Or it tends to find you when you least expect it.

Saturday night has come and almost gone, and you’re still waiting for Jungkook to show up at Club Onyx to meet up with you and your friends. You’ve been waiting for hours and downing drinks the longer you go unanswered.

You’ve called and texted him over and over with no answer and are finally ready to just give up. Hobi gives you that pitiful look as you slam your phone face down onto the table.

“Fuck this, I’m getting another drink.” You don’t say it to anyone in particular and you don’t wait for anyone to answer before slipping into the crowd towards the bar.

“Can I get a Long Island please?” you ask the bartender when she approaches. You slouch down onto a barstool and see a familiar face on the other side of the bar.

Taehyung. Sitting with a glass of whiskey in one hand and his phone in the other. The hat you usually see him wear is nowhere to be seen. Instead, his curly black hair has been somewhat styled over his forehead. He’s still wearing a white button up, but he’s left the top buttons undone this time, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

“Here you go.” The bartender hands you your drink just in time for Taehyung to look up from his phone and see you already looking at him.

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself, taking your drink and making a break for the dance floor as quickly as you can. 

The song playing isn’t one that you know, but as you chug down your drink you start to care less and less about knowing the song and just let yourself go. You want to have a good time and not mope about Jungkook standing you up once again.

You let strangers grind against you as you move across the dance floor, arms raised above your head and your hips swaying to the beat of the song. You’re a little tipsy as you place your glass down on the nearest table, but not enough to not know what’s going on. 

A slower song starts to play with more of an r&b feeling. You watch as people start to pair off, the movements of their bodies making heat rush through you and settle on your cheeks and  neck. You start to turn back to find your friends when you feel an arm slide around your waist, making you jump from the suddenness of being touched.

“Easy there, Pigeon,” a voice as deep as the ocean and smoother than satin says against the shell of your ear.

You twist your neck almost too quickly, eyes landing on the face of Taehyung. Your breath nearly disappears completely seeing him this closely.

“What are you doing?” you ask, but you don’t try to move away from him. God, you should move away but you can’t.

“You need someone to dance with.” He smiles and says the words with a matter of fact tone.

“I should find my friends…” Your brain finally starts to catch up and you move from his hold.

“One dance, Pigeon. Would be a pity to waste such a good song.” 

“Why are you calling me Pigeon? I have a name.” You fold your arms over your chest.

“I know your name. But the pigeons at school seem to have really taken a liking to you, I couldn’t resist.” His boxy smile widens.

“You’re not being very convincing about this dance.” You try not to smile.

Taehyung puts his hand out asking silently one more time for you to dance with him. There’s that nagging feeling that you shouldn’t, but there’s a bigger part that says Jungkook isn’t your boyfriend, and he stood you up after he promised not to miss this night.

You take his hand.

Taehyung pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and gently pulls you towards him, spinning you around at the last second to press your back against his front. You gasp when you immediately feel him lean over you and press his face into your neck, his nose skimming your skin.

His big but delicate hands find your stomach, slithering down until they reach your hips, slightly bunching your dress in his fingers.

He gently moves his hips and grinds against your ass in the most tantalizing way, reminding you that you did in fact agree to dance. Taehyung groans quietly in your ear when the pace of your hips becomes quicker with more added pressure from your ass into his crotch.

You let yourself relax against him, head falling back against his shoulder and exposing more of your neck to him. His impatient mouth finds the juncture of your neck and shoulder and he kisses a soft line across your skin.

“Can’t believe your boyfriend would leave you all alone out here where the monsters can find you.” Taehyung's deep voice vibrates through your body and settles into your core.

“I don’t have a boyfriend…or monsters.” The words come out sounding breathless as he continues to press your body closer to his.

“We think you do.” His long tongue traces the shell of your ear. 

We? You let it go because your brain is too foggy with lust to wonder what that could even mean right now.

“I don’t,” you repeat, pushing thoughts of Jungkook away for just a night. Taehyung laughs quietly, pulling your lobe between his teeth as his hands move up your chest to cup your breasts.

You don’t even care who sees the way he’s touching you right now. You’re becoming so turned on that you know your panties have to be absolutely ruined at this point.

“Come home with me.” He spins you around to face him just as the song ends, your eyes fluttering open as he cups your face in his hands.

“That…I can’t.” Your eyes search his, hoping it will make you realize that you need to walk away. Instead, there’s something that tells you you’re safe, but that you’re also in for a world of trouble. You don’t know how you know, you just do.

“I’ll make you feel so good, Pigeon.” His mouth is almost on yours, lips just brushing as he whispers. This man is fucking undeniable.

“Okay,.” you cave. You just want to feel wanted. You want to matter more than a stranger on the street. You want Taehyung to make you forget how much it hurts when Jungkook lets you down over and over again.

“Good girl.” His warm mouth slots with yours as he kisses you feverishly. Like he’s been starving for years and your mouth is his only source of sustenance. It’s hot, fiery, and all-consuming.

Not even sure when his lips leave yours, you’re suddenly being pulled by your hand towards the club exit. Your brain clears and you look around for Hobi or any of your other friends but you don’t see them. And honestly, you hope that they don’t. You hope they didn’t see what happened on the dance floor and you hope they don’t see you leaving with someone who isn’t Jungkook. That would be far too messy to have to explain.

“Did you drive here?” You squeeze Taehyung’s hand and he pulls you closer to him.

“I did. I didn’t even finish my drink, I promise I’m safe to drive.” He eases your mind as the two of you push out of the door and turn towards the parking lot.

But your mind is only at ease for a mere minute before you realize that Taehyung is leading you towards what appears to be a very, very fast motorcycle. Everything on it is jet black and ridiculously sexy. You wish you weren’t absolutely terrified.

“I’m not getting on that.” You stop in your tracks.

“Why not?” Taehyung grabs the helmet off the back and offers it to you. “I’ll even give you the helmet.”

“I just…that looks dangerous.” 

“It is.”

“Glad you’re honest,” you half-laugh.

“The bike is dangerous, but I would never let anything happen to you, Pigeon.” Taehyung swings one of his long legs over the motorcycle, straddling it as he waits for you to make a decision.

“We hardly know each other, Taehyung.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t keep you safe on my motorcycle, or that we have to know everything about each other to feel something.” He holds the helmet out again and you feel your mouth go dry at his words.

The danger aside, there is no going back if you get on that motorcycle with him. There is no way you would have an untainted conscience ever again. Every time you were with Jungkook from this day on, you would have to think about the fact that at this moment, you also wanted Kim Taehyung to fuck you.

That should terrify you more than it does.

You grab your phone and quickly open it to see no messages or missed calls from Jungkook. Your answer gets a little clearer as you reach out and take the helmet from his hand.

“Carefully,” Taehyung says, taking one of your hands and guiding you to straddle the motorcycle behind him. You settle the helmet onto your head, and Taehyung smiles widely when he looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re ready. 

When he starts the motorcycle, the vibrations from the engine immediately flood your body. Your arms instinctively wrap around his torso as tightly as possible, and you wait once again for the world to go past you far too quickly. The same way it always does when Jungkook is swinging you between buildings.

When he pulls out of the parking lot, he doesn’t go too fast like you thought he would. He takes his time weaving between the cars and taxis, making his way through the busy streets and closer to the docks. 

You don’t entirely hate the motorcycle ride. Nor do you hate the way Taehyung laces his fingers through yours and holds them against his chest, or the way he brings your knuckles to his lips to brush a kiss against each one while he steers with the other hand. You don’t hate the way he sometimes moves that hand down to tap your thigh to let you know he’s about to make a sharp turn. You wish you hated the motorcycle ride.

Taehyung presses a button on his phone and a door on one of the warehouses starts to lift up. He pulls through it, parking the bike once inside. Your legs feel like jello when you take his hand to try and stand up, stumbling a bit in his hold.

“Okay there, Pigeon?” Taehyung grasps the sides of the helmet and helps you take it off. He sits it on the back of the bike before coming back to help you straighten out your helmet hair.

“It wasn’t terrible.” You smile and so does he, fire moving through your veins the longer your eyes stay locked with his. You quickly clear your throat. “So, you live in a warehouse?”

“I used to live in the city. It was just too…busy. I needed space.” He takes your hand and leads you towards some metal stairs. But before he does, you notice several more motorcycles parked inside the open part of the warehouse. Who is Kim Taehyung?

At the top of the stairs, it opens into a large open loft area that has a surprising feeling of comfort to it. There’s a kitchenette off to the right with just the necessities: a fridge, small table, stove and microwave.

The left side of the room appears to be the bedroom. A big messy bed sits against a headboard with intricate black vines carved into the wood. Soft pillows are haphazardly lying in all directions, some on the floor with their feathers scattered across the room. Taehyung visibly stiffens when he sees you notice them.

“Sorry about those…I think I might have a raccoon stuck in here somewhere.” He laughs and moves to kick the busted pillows under his bed.

Strange. He’s a little strange.

“Do you need something to drink?” he asks.

“Should I be worried about being here, Taehyung?” 

“What? No. No, I promise you’re safe.” He crosses the room and comes to stand in front of you, concern evident on his perfect face.

“I just…I don’t do things like this. I’ve never even had a one night stand.” You card a hand through your hair and Taehyung tips your chin up to look at him.

“Why does it need to be just one night?” His face softens and his thumb brushes over your bottom lip.

“Taehyung…I don’t know what I’m doing.” It’s barely a whisper.

His head tilts slightly to the side before it spasms slightly, an uncomfortable look painting his face as he shakes his head and gets the spasm under control. 

“Stop it.” Taehyung grits between his clenched teeth, mostly to himself.

“Are…are you okay?” Your worry grows by the second.

“Sorry…I’m sorry.” He cups your face in his hands and kisses you sweetly, catching you off guard. “I’m sorry if I scared you,” he whispers against your lips.

“I’m not scared of you.” It isn’t a lie. You aren’t scared, but something is off. And you’re too stupid to leave. “Should I be scared?”

“Not of me.” He speaks as if someone else is in the room. 

His mouth finds yours again and lust takes the place of worry and concern. Taehyung easily grabs your thighs and lifts you off the ground as if you weigh nothing at all.

The next moments are a blur of clothing being stripped and bare skin coming in contact with hands and lips. Teeth scrape over nipples and long fingers drown themselves inside your dripping pussy. The warehouse echos with the sounds of your moans and his deep groans.

After your first thigh shaking orgasm, Taehyung sits on the edge of his bed and you kneel in front of him between his knees, taking his far too perfect cock into your mouth. You worship him with your tongue and make him come down your throat, his hands tightly gripping your hair.

Chills run through your sweaty body as he bends you over his bed and eases his cock inside you. Stars explode behind your eyelids while your fingers grip the bed sheets.

“He doesn’t fuck you enough, does he Pigeon? You’re so fucking tight.” Taehyung’s fingers dig harshly into your hips as he mercilessly pounds you from behind.

You can only moan in response, the coil in your stomach tightening and threatening to burst again. Tears slip from the corners of your eyes and stain the sheets you’re so desperately clinging to.

His fingers suddenly start to feel sharper, like they could pierce your skin at any moment, past the point of hurting in a good way.

“Stop,” Taehyung growls and the piercing feeling of his fingers starts to let up. If your brain wasn’t so fogged by your oncoming orgasm you may have questioned who the hell he was talking to.

“I’m so close,” you whine, feeling Taehyung press himself closer to you, one of his hands coming to the back of your head and pushing you deeper into the mattress. The new angle  makes you feel him so deeply that even your stomach clenches and the dam finally breaks; you’re falling off the edge of the most shattering orgasm you’ve ever experienced.

Taehyung’s hips stutter as you clench around him, making him moan deep in his chest. When you can no longer hold up your body, he grabs your shoulder and flips you onto your back, then immediately slides his cock back inside your overly sensitive pussy.

You’re so blissfully fucked that it takes you a moment to focus your eyesight on his face. Sweaty black curls sticking to his forehead as you lift your heavy arms and dig your fingers into his hair so you can pull his mouth down onto yours.

“I almost…I almost lost control. You feel so good.” His tongue swipes into your mouth as he angles himself to hit your g-spot with every hard thrust of his hips.

“Please come, Taehyung.” Your nails dig into his back and leave scratch marks across his skin.

“Never wanted anyone as much as I want you…fuck we want you so badly.” He buries his face into your neck as he thrusts once, twice more before you feel him spill inside of you. Hips bruisingly tight against yours as his cock twitches each time more cum fills you up.

“Holy shit.” You move your hands back to his hair and gently lift up to see his face. You swear when he looks at you that all the color has drained from his eyes. They’re solid white.

You gasp and blink once, seeing Taehyung’s pretty brown eyes looking back at you in less than a second.

“Wh-what was that?” You’re still panting.

“What was what, Pigeon?” He smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek before he slowly pulls out and walks to his bathroom, giving you a chance to ogle his perfect little ass and the muscles of his back.

“I just…thought I saw something,” you say when he returns to the bed with a cloth for you to clean up with. You really need to get more sleep if you’re starting to see things.

“Did I hurt you?” Taehyung’s face is suddenly a lot more serious when he reaches out to run his fingers over the apple of your cheek.

You remember the way his hands felt on your hips. How they could’ve been on the verge of piercing through your skin. At least, that’s what you thought when it was happening.

Looking down at your hips, there’s obvious red marks from fingertips, but also scratch marks that just don’t seem like they could’ve come from Taehyung’s short cut nails. What the hell?

“I um…I think I’m okay.” You pull the covers up over your hips a little, hoping he won’t see.

“You should sleep here. I can take you home in the morning, I’m just too sleepy right now.” He pouts his mouth a little and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into his side.

“Okay.” You’re admittedly too spent to call an Uber or argue with him about taking you home tonight. You just need to sleep. Sleep will fix everything. Tomorrow you will wake up and not feel like you’re losing your entire mind.

“…don’t ever fucking do that again…” You hear part of a conversation in your half asleep state. “I swear if you would have hurt her…”

Who the hell is Taehyung talking to in the middle of the night?

“She’s with the spider….liability.” A deep inhuman voice fills the empty air. Your eyes shoot open wide and every nerve is suddenly completely wired.

Are they…are they talking about Jungkook?

“She’s not. She said she’s not,” Taehyung’s voice answers, stress evident in his words.

“We should eat her now…” 

“No! You’ll have to kill me if you think you’re ever touching her. And we both know you can’t do that,” Taehyung yells.

You wrap the thin sheet around your naked body and slowly move towards the railing that overlooks the open part of the warehouse downstairs. You stay back far enough so not to alert anyone of your presence.

Looking down, you see Taehyung sitting at a table with his back towards you, wearing his black jeans slung low on his hips and nothing else. He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

And that’s when it seems like the shadows around him start to move and your heart threatens to burst from your chest. Because not only do they move, but they have a face. A terrifying face that is seeping from the back of Taehyung’s neck and moving around him …as it talks.

“You’re weak for her,” the monster growls deeply, its huge teeth and unnaturally long tongue becoming more apparent as it moves into the light.

“We had a deal.” Taehyung seethes. “I’m literally the only person you haven’t killed when you bonded with them. You need me to get your symbiote friends home and I need you to take down that fucking lab.”

You can barely believe what you’re seeing or hearing. Is this the monster Jungkook was talking about? The one breaking into the lab across the river?

“Aren’t we friends?” The monster asks in a condescending way.

“Not if you hurt ____. She has no idea what she’s in the middle of and it should stay that way.” Taehyung holds his arms out straight and the monster starts to wrap its moving pitch black skin around him…its skin becoming his.

You’re so startled by the sight in front of you that you stumble back, knocking over an end table full of magazines and books. Fuck.

“Shit,” you hear Taehyung say before the monster has completely consumed him. What stands in his place is something you will never forget for the rest of your life.

The monster must be at least 8 feet tall, huge bulking muscles made of that inhuman black skin that constantly appears to be moving. Its  huge white eyes land right on you immediately, its  mouth and teeth pulling into a wicked smile as it jumps into the air and clears the railing in a single leap. You scream as the ground crunches beneath its feet when it lands in front of you.

The monster looms over you and all the breath in your lungs disappears.

“What…what are you?” you croak, fear freezing you in place.

“We…are Venom.”

taglist: @hanversace @chaelvrx @moonchild1 @rkivewritersblog @ungodlyjoon @ricecakeslove @jeonsweetpea @screamertannie @tearyjjeon @kookrecs @bintificreads @minisugakoobies

series masterlist | main masterlist | Part Two

[i-am-creacheur]

making one of these because the world sucks and I need outside motivation to get better. I'm not popular enough to get any traction but I need help so I guess spamming welcome.

1 note: I start my Latin game project which is due like three days from now- complete!!!!

5 notes: I will text my crush along the lines of "hey we have a lot of teams and clubs in common but I don't anything about you. What are somethings you like" except less creepy- working up the courage.

10 notes: I will try to write more on my fics.- busy atm but will work on them when I can

20 notes: I will ask my parents for a birthday cake, because my birthday was two weeks ago and we were out of the country so I didn't really get anything (they said the trip was my gift but I think it was a joke) and I always get the same cake and my internal calender is now screaming in agony- they bought a lot of sweet stuff i like earlier today so I'm considering not asking. Or just asking for a cupcake with buttercream icing or sm

30 notes: do so much laundry- doing a load of shirts and stuff atm

40 notes: try to get better at taking care of myself (eating breakfast, showering more often, drinking more water)- put a water bottle on my desk and am working on this

50 notes: organize my mcyt folder in my photo gallery (has over 3k pictures)- I'll do this while procrastinating later today

100 notes: properly clean my room- laundry is a major part of this but yall swarmed the notes so it will take me a bit to reach. I mean I did say spamming was fine so I dug my own grave

200 notes: buy magnets from a fandom I really like

300 notes: buy more jeans. I only like certain kinds of pants and I haven't gotten new ones in like two years so I really need some that haven't been beaten to hell

500 notes: ask my parents for an adhd coach

700 notes: start properly planning my eagle project

1k notes: ask my crush out/tell my parents I think I like girls

2k: make three cosplays of my favorite characters

3k: start researching colleges (this is very stressful to think about for me hence why it is so high up)

Likely to add more 👍

[cowboyellies]

- Bad Habit | e.w.

were you not not too good for me, my dear?

funny you comeback to me my dear

PART TWO OF "You're Not Good enough"

pairing: college player!ellie x fem college!reader

warnings/themes: angst!!!, ellie is v emotionally unavailable (my type <3), she's a teensy bit manipulative, reader mentions past toxic relationship, slight mention of ellie's past trauma, lots of jealousy, small amount of abby x reader (sorry abby), reader is kind of stupid (just like me fr), slight mentions of violence, small amount of smut (just a heavy make out)

word count: 3.8k

synopsis: you finally end things with ellie and months later you couldn't feel any better. ellie on the other hand is losing her mind without you. when she sees you at a club one night on a date with another girl, she's determined to get you back no matter what cost.

a/n: I didn't originally plan on making a part two but a few people asked so here it is! I hope you enjoy (below I'm tagging everyone who asked for a part 2)

 🏷 🏷 🏷: @shortcake22341 @harrysslutsstuff @robinismywifee @gizzzi

you and ellie hooked up three more times before you finally called it quits. for real this time. seriously. you blocked her on all platforms and even started avoiding spaces you knew you would see her at. 

the final straw this time for you was the fact that the third time you were hooking up she got a text from another girl during, and she answered it. once she finished sending her text back she rolled over to resume eating you out but you were already grabbing your shit and bolting for the door. that wasn’t the first time ellie williams had humiliated you but you made a promise to yourself that it would be the last. 

now it was two months later, the longest you’d gone without seeing her in about a year. you no longer thought of her, for the most part. there were times where you longed to unblock her number and go crawling back. but you didn’t. you finally felt actually single for the first time in forever and it was exhilarating. you now could do whatever you wanted, hook up with whoever you wanted without feeling the weird guilt and shame ellie left you with every time you’d walk out of her apartment. and now that your spring term had ended you were most certainly using this freedom to your advantage. 

ellie on the other hand was losing her shit. the night she fucked up again was actually a misunderstanding this time. yes, she did receive a text to hook up while you were fucking each other. and yes she did answer it. but it was only to tell the girl to fuck off. she tried to explain that to you but you had already slammed the door in her face before she could get the words out. 

she had tried everything she could think of how to get you to talk to her, even stooping so low as to show up at your door, begging for you to open up. this actually might have worked on you if she hadn’t gotten your apartment number wrong. you two spent most of your time together at her place so she ended up scaring the living shit out of your elderly neighbor mrs. flenderson when she showed up knocking on her door at one a.m. drunk.

now all she could do was sit alone with her feelings which she hated. she hated knowing she cared about you and all this time apart was just giving her more time to think about it, so much so she even began fantasizing how she would confess her feelings for you. she drafted long speeches in her head for different ways she’d make you hear her out. 

when the opportunity to actually confess arrives, things don’t go as smoothly as they do in her imagined scenarios. 

the night you two finally see each other again you happen to be on a second date. the first second date you’ve been on since you started seeing people again. you had become accustomed to your one night stands but something about this girl drew you in. abby and you had met through a mutual friend and you actually got along really well. she’s funny, kind, doesn’t seem to share the same emotional incapabilities as your exes, and she’s pretty fucking hot. 

your night starts out amazing, she brings you to a club where she happens to know the owner, getting you past the entrance right away and straight to the bar, where she showers you in free drinks and many, many compliments. you flirt and laugh and blush like you haven’t in a while and you realize what you really want to do is dance. as you’re on your way to the floor, that's when you see her.

ellie’s at the entrance of the club with her two friends you vaguely know, dina and jesse. you stare at her for a few moments, taking in the features you had tried so desperately to brush from your memory. her auburn hair is shorter and you can tell from the rolled up sleeves of her black button up that she got more detailing done on her tattoo. her head starts to turn towards your direction so you suddenly switch positions with abby, moving so if ellie looks your way she’d only see your back. 

“is everything okay?” abby asks, leaning down towards your ear so you could hear her over the loud music. you nod and try to continue dancing as if nothing is bothering you, which is hard to do considering that you suddenly feel the urge to vomit. abby doesn’t seem convinced so she pulls you off to the side of the dance floor, luckily away from where ellie had gone to sit with her friends. “are you sure you’re alright, you look a little green,”

“yeah I’m fine!!” you insist, trying not to give ellie the power to ruin your night like you’d done many times before. “I think I’m just a little lightheaded,” you say, hoping it’ll make her drop it.

“oh shit, let's go to the bar and get you some water,” she replies, frowning in concern, grabbing your hand to lead you back there.

“no!” you suddenly shout, knowing that’s where ellie’s sitting. “no um- I just really like this part of the club! do you think you could just bring some for me over here?” you ask, even though the “area of the club” you’re referencing is just a dark corner near the bathroom next to a trashcan. 

abby looks at you questionably but eventually turns and does what you ask, probably figuring you definitely need it now. once she’s gone you start plotting how you can make your escape from here without ellie seeing, hopefully not further ruining your date. you know you’re being immature and that grown ups don’t hide in corners from their exes, but you’re pretty tipsy and you never claimed to be a grown up. 

a minute after abby leaves you see dina and jesse make their way to the dance floor. before you can even think to conceal yourself, dina makes eye contact with you and you notice her eyes widen in recognition, which makes you realize ellie had definitely told her something about your breakup. while that made you go into further panic it also made you pause. when you first met dina it was when you and ellie had run into her at a coffee shop the morning after one of your sleepovers. ellie had introduced you to her as “a friend” even though you’d been hooking up for four months at that point. if ellie had gone from that to now confiding in dina about your messy break, it made you think about how much your split had actually affected her. 

as you see dina move to go and tell ellie about you lurking in the shadows, abby starts to walk back in your direction, glass of water in hand. now you’re screwed. there’s no way you can convince abby to leave before ellie comes to find you.

while you’re being overcome with sudden doom, ellie from the other side of the room feels her heartbeat pick up in a way it hasn’t in months. as soon as dina had muttered your name she jolted out of her seat. now as she makes her way over to you, confident to win you back, she notices something dina hadn’t mentioned, her.

abby stands next to you brushing a hair behind your ear, gently stroking your shoulder as you down the glass of water she brought you. ellie feels a sudden rage flow through her whole body. just when she thinks she’s getting you back she sees you with another girl. this is different than with the couch girl from the party who was just gonna be a random fuck, she can tell from your body language you’re already getting comfortable with her beyond that. she stops suddenly a few feet in front of you, causing you to choke a little on your water. 

as you’re now standing face to face with ellie you notice that familiar jealousy plastered all over her face. as much as you know you have nothing to be guilty about, you can’t help but start to sweat a little as she resembles the look of a rageful girlfriend. you realize that’s exactly what abby might think she is as you look up to see her shocked expression. just as you’re about to explain, ellie beats you to it. 

“can I talk to you?” she asks, more of a command than an actual question. 

“no!” you shout back over the music, hoping that will send her away but knowing from past experience it won’t. 

“who is thi-” abby starts before she’s cut off 

“I’m ellie. who the fuck are you?” she yells, turning her direct attention to abby for the first time.

“her date, who the fuck are you? are you two-”

“NO!” you yell, wishing you had opted for the dinner and a movie date you previously discussed. “let’s just go!” you yell, at this point you weren’t even focused on salvaging your date but instead on getting the fuck out of there. 

“I need to fucking talk to you please,” ellie begs stepping in front of you, this is different than the last time at the party, you’ve never heard her voice sound so desperate. 

“she said no, back the fuck up,” abby shouts, pushing ellie a little on her shoulder. before you can say anything, that small little push turns into ellie flinging her fist into abby’s jaw. you knew she had a temper but have never seen her actually fight someone until now. the two of them begin full on fighting and instead of doing the honorable thing and trying to pull them off of each other, you simply leave. you know doing this pretty much guarantees no third date with abby but you can’t really find it in yourself to care. you’re so over with this night and the constant shit show that is your love life so you find yourself just exiting the club. 

they don’t notice you’re gone until a few minutes after, around the same time the security begins showing up to pull the two of them apart. before they can restrain ellie she makes a break for it, bolting after you towards the door. 

she finds you a few blocks away sitting on the curb waiting for an uber. you notice her shadow looming over you and you turn your head up to face her, groaning once you see her bruised face.

“ellie you’ve done enough, can you just please leave me alone,” you plead, the weight of the night’s events finally starting to hit you, making you feel exhausted.

“i’m sorry, I can’t,” she replies, lowering her body to the curb next to you. you look at her confused for a few moments, realizing that’s the first time you’ve ever heard her use the words “I’m sorry”

“why?” your voice cracks and your eyes starting to brim with tears on impulse. you aren’t sure exactly why you’re crying but it’s making you feel small and stupid. 

“you know why,” she replies, unable to give anymore. after all this time she spent building speeches, she still found herself scared to say the actual words.

“no, I don’t ellie. I have no idea why you treat me like this,” you reply, the tears beginning to spill on your cheeks. “I don’t know why you act as if you don’t give a shit about me but still can’t let me go, you never fucking tell me why,”

her heart is racing now. she knows if she doesn’t say the right thing she’ll lose you for real. this is the last moment she can avoid her feelings or she’ll crush yours once and for all. 

“It’s because I-” she starts at barely a whisper, her eyes beginning to water. “its because I fucking care about you!” now she’s almost yelling, the words escaping her mouth like a sob. “and I haven’t felt this way in a long time and it fucking terrifies me,” you look down at her hands and notice they’re shaking. you want so badly to hold her but a part of you stays restrained, knowing after everything she’s put you through you can’t just grant her forgiveness that easily.

“you don’t think I’m terrified too? ellie it took me a long time to get over my ex and you know that. but I didn’t dump you on your fucking ass the second I started to get feelings for you. and I certainly didn’t text another girl in the middle of us fucking!” the memory of that night starts to overcome your sympathy for her, replacing it with anger instead

“I texted her back to tell her not to message me again, and I tried to explain that to you and you wouldn’t let me. I know i fucked up and had shitty timing but you have to believe that I would never hurt you like that,” she was fully pleading now. you had never seen her so much as shed a tear and now here she is baring her soul. 

“ellie, you know I want to trust that but why should I? you’ve done nothing but give me reasons to believe otherwise,” you’re sobbing now too, your face turned towards the pavement in front of you watching your tears drip on the floor. you feel her fingers gently pull your chin upwards to look at her again, you notice a complete sense of somberness in her eyes now, this could possibly be the last thing she’d ever say to you.

“I know you don’t have any reason to believe me but you have to know that I…” she pauses for a moment to collect herself. the three words on the tip of her tongue were something she hadn’t said out loud in over five years. “I love you. okay? and I know I have a shitty way of showing it but I do,” 

out of everything she could have said to you that was the last thing you were expecting. you had known for a while that ellie had rejected that feeling because of something that had happened in her childhood which she never could fully tell you about, and you weren’t sure if she was even capable of it anymore. it’s at that moment where you know for certain she’s not just saying all this to get you in her bed. 

you’re truly looking at her now, the two of you facing each other with tearfilled eyes not able to say anything. this is when ellie finally breaks out the material in her fantasy speeches. “I love how you look when you’re sleeping, you get this cute half smile on your face when you’re having a good dream. and I love how obsessed you are with pickles, even though you refuse to eat a cucumber which I have explained to you many times is what pickles are made out of-”

“they’re not the same and you know it,” you interrupt through your tears. you had always wanted a big love confession like the one she was giving you, filled with specific facts and details, you said so while watching when harry met sally after one of your first hookups, you were shocked she remembered.

“I love how you never let me finish my sentences,” she replies with a smirk, her cockiness beginning to return after the intense few minutes of vulnerability. “I love how you do that thing with your lips when you’re cum-”

“okay you’re done now,” you stop her, a blush beginning to take over your face. you were starting to forget that at the beginning of the night you hated her guts and were likely going home with another woman.

“are you sure? I have a lot more,” she teases, you know the rest are all sexual. you realize after a moment of silence you never told her you love her back, and you realize you aren’t sure if you even do. obviously you still have strong feelings for her, otherwise you’d have already stormed away from her by now. 

as you’re about to say something to break the silence the uber you’d ordered earlier appears in front of you. you look up at her and contemplate what it’ll mean to invite her in with you. is it still stupid to fuck her after one night of seeing her again? does the fact that she loves you make a difference in that? 

you aren’t really sure and you don’t care. you pull her yourself up from the curb, dragging her along with you towards the backseat of the car.

–

after a tense fifteen minute uber ride which consisted of the two of you trying your absolute best to keep your hands to yourself and spare the sweet little old man driver, you finally arrive at your apartment. you’re now the one dragging her towards the elevator, recreating the same passionate makeout against the metal walls as the time after she cornered you at the party. the only difference being the fact that now you were no longer shoving down feelings of regret and shame. 

after you exit the elevator and you’re opening your apartment door you hear her laugh at the unit behind you, mrs. flenderson’s apartment. 

“oh my god ellie, stop,” you whisper shout at her, remembering the fear in the little old lady's voice as she told you about ellie’s drunken escapade. “she has heart problems, you could have killed her!” 

you feel her arms reach over your sides, gently resting on your stomach as she begins to lean into your neck “are you jealous thinking about me confessing my feelings for another woman?” she teases, the embrace making it harder for you to open your door.

“no ellie, the thought of you trying to seduce my 78 year old neighbor does not make me jealous,” you reply with an eye roll, finally managing to open the lock. as soon as the two of you are inside she’s pushing you up against the door, her lips trailing all over your body, desperate to show you how much she meant what she said earlier. 

“you have no idea-” she says in between kisses. “how hard it was-” she’s gripping gently at your hair now, her eyes traveling up and down your body, taking you in fully for the first time in months. “to see you dancing like that with someone else,” you think about what she’s saying for a moment, the memory of abby making you trail your fingers down a bruise she had left on ellie’s cheekbone. you realize then that you could find it in yourself to forgive ellie for using you, because that’s exactly what you inadvertently had done to abby.

you pull her towards you by the jaw, her ear just centimeters away from your lips as you whisper “good.” you figured if you had accidentally used someone to make her jealous there's no harm in using that to your advantage now. you see ellie’s jaw tighten a little and her lips are back on yours in seconds, this time harsher than before.

you make your way to your bedroom, her hands on you the entire time as you’re leading her there. when you reach the bottom of your bed you begin to sit but you feel her pull you up, her hungry hands clinging to the fabric of your dress around your thighs. 

“look at this pretty little dress,” she mumbles while running her hands up towards your breasts, the skin tight fabric clinging to you in all the right places. “you got all dressed up just for her,”

you roll your eyes at her jealousy but deep down the pool of heat in your core was growing stronger. she responds to your eye roll by yanking the dress down your arms. she then makes her way to the clasps on your bra, unhooking it and throwing it to your floor. she begins kissing you again, starting at your neck and trailing down towards your breasts, a moan escaping you as her mouth met your nipples. instinctively your hand grasp onto her hair, clinging to the roots as she laps at your skin. your grip on her hair tightens as your pleasure increases when she stops suddenly.  “could abby’s tongue make you feel that good baby?”

you’re about to reply when she breaks away from your skin, now firmly pushing you towards your mattress. as you lie back she begins to take off your dress completely, staring down at you cravingly. unable to stand the lack of her lips on you, you’re suddenly sitting up and pulling her down towards you, gripping at the fabric of her shirt as her lips are crashing down on yours. 

“somebody’s eager,” she teases, smiling in between kisses. as you’re making out you begin to feel her remove your hands from her neck and pinning them to the bed above you. you lean up towards her to continue your kissing when she pulls back, the sudden lack of contact causing you to let out a small pathetic whimper. she laughs at you and begins to take you in. her eyes linger over your mussed hair and pink lips that are wet from her kisses. “you’re so fucking beautiful,”

this comment catches you off guard. ellie had never said anything like that to you before. yes, she complimented frequently while you were together calling hot and gorgeous especially when you were on top of her, but this was different. this was more intimate. you smile brightly beneath her and use all your strength to lift yourself by your elbows to deliver one frenzied kiss onto her lips, plopping your head back down on the bed afterwards.

you realize then that the hot jealousy filled sex you two were headed towards had begun to change. all thoughts of abby, of any of your collective exes, or anyone else in the world for that matter have disappeared. this is about you and her. 

she resumes kissing you, this time gentler, and you think back to the last time you had slept together. after your breakup every time you fucked was more feverish than the last. that sex was a dirty little mistake you couldn’t stop making, and you made sure to make it as quick and emotionless as possible. now as she’s on top of you, slowly stroking your hair as she moves her lips across your neck you are overcome with a sense of closeness for her that you had been trying to repress since the night she broke your heart on her dingy old couch. 

“ellie,” you whisper, her mouth slowly detaching from your skin as she adjusts herself to look at you. 

“yeah?” she asks, moving a chunk of hair near your face behind your ear. 

“I love you too”

[neptuneiris]

sparks (01/04)

My heart is yours It's you that I hold on to

pairing: business-boyfriend!aemond x fem!reader

summary: at the beginning your relationship with aemond is perfect and there were no worries. until he becomes the Heir of his father's company, the most important in the whole country and certain events and certain people start to interfere in the relationship.

word count: 8.6k

next part • series masterlist

AHHH here is another story!

I'm really excited for this one especially since it's angst but in a modern world, which I haven't done since cardigan and gosh what I have prepared for this, you're going to like it a lot or that's what I hope haha.

I look forward to your comments excited, I love responding to each one of them, thank you for your support and for reading, you are amazing beautiful people, enjoy!

warnings: pure angst

You're losing him.

You say to yourself as you read the messages from your boyfriend, Aemond.

You stare emotionlessly at your phone screen for a few more moments as you bite the inside of your cheek, beginning to feel a sharp pain in your chest and disappointment coursing through your body.

With a defeated gesture, you turn off the screen and head to your room, starting to take off your makeup, hairstyle and also the beautiful black dress that you were so excited for Aemond to see you wearing.

You resist the urge to cry at all times, especially when you remove your makeup and look at yourself in the mirror, biting your lips and telling yourself that this is no big deal, that you shouldn't cry.

You know it's not his fault, you know he has work and that keeps him very busy, but it's not the first time this has happened.

Days before he proposes the idea of going to dinner, just you and him, to one of those fine restaurants downtown, telling you he wants to enjoy a luxurious dinner with you, making you get excited and start planning what you will wear and how you will do your makeup and hair.

And when the day comes… his work prevents him from leaving the company building and consumes more of his time.

You understand the great responsibility he carries on his back being the heir to his father's important company, preparing at twenty-three years old to become the next big head and boss by the time comes, but you never thought you would have to spend less time with him every day.

Aemond a year ago graduated with a degree in business management and as soon as he received his college degree, he started working with his father.

You met him because you both have friends in common at the same university even though you study marketing and are a year younger, yet your friends would ask you out to clubs or for drinks and Aemond would join in.

That's when the two of you started talking and getting to know each other better. And as a result of that, eventually he and you started hanging out together until you formalized everything by being in a relationship.

Not too long after that, the two of you decided to live together in an apartment near the university, which you could afford because Aemond has always belonged to a rich family and also because of your half-time job at a coffee shop.

But when Aemond graduated and started working with his father, the whole relationship slowly began to change.

You only talk when he comes home late, asking you how was your day, what did you do and you also ask the same to him, realizing that there is no day where Aemond does not go through stress.

Now you see him less time, in the evening he comes back and you don't even talk much as he feels exhausted, so he takes a shower and goes to sleep.

There are no more times where you go out to the movies, to a fast food restaurant, bowling, for drinks with friends, not even watching movies at home or eating together, be it breakfast, lunch, dinner, nothing.

Even in his days off, he is working in his home office, taking calls and so on, while you miraculously wait for him to have a little break and talk to you, but again... nothing.

That's why right now you don't want to get angry with him, because you know it's not his fault, but still... you can't resist it anymore and the first tears fall down your cheeks and low sobs escape from your throat.

You want to reassure yourself, thinking that you shouldn't cry over this, that it's not that big of a deal, but you can't stop, the tears keep coming and your sobs are the only thing that can be heard all over the room, crying louder at the thought of how much you miss him.

You continue to remove everything from your face in tears, even the hairstyle that took you hours, and then you calm down and put on your sleeping clothes.

You leave your beautiful dress on your comfortable sofa next to the window, deciding to put it properly back in your closet tomorrow, not having any more courage for this day, wanting to lie down on your bed, sleep and nothing else.

You feel sleep take you and you sink into deep darkness, resting. Then you don't know exactly how much time has passed, but a sound makes you slowly open your eyes.

You hear him start to walk softly around the room, trying not to make too much noise, feeling his gaze on you for a few moments.

You hear perfectly the sound of the door to the room and then footsteps entering.

"Love? Are you asleep?"

You hear him ask you in his low but audible and attentive enough tone, but you don't say or do anything to him.

Aemond lets out a long breath as he sees that you are asleep, feeling very tired and just as disappointed as you are, to start taking off his clothes and heading to take a shower.

You continue to lie still, turning your back to him, still pretending to sleep when you know you shouldn't but... you don't want to talk to him about what happened tonight, you don't feel in the mood.

You're tired, disappointed and don't want to get upset with him when it's not his fault, but you won't be able to help it.

And when he returns to the room already with his sleeping clothes on, about to lie down next to you, he briefly inspects the room and feels a pain in his chest when he sees two of your makeup removal towels on your vanity full of it, causing him pity.

It doesn't really take him long even though all the time he thinks about you and how disappointed you must have been, also how sad you must have felt.

But you never bother with him and that's what makes him more frustrated as he fails you once again because you understand him, you always do.

Also when he sees the black dress on the couch, he feels terrible.

Finally he turns his attention to you in bed, turning off the bathroom light and lying down next to you, instantly hugging you gently from behind so as not to wake you up and leaves a soft, tender kiss on your shoulder and others in your hair.

You still continue to pretend, enjoying his touch for a moment, but you again hold back the urge to cry all the time, feeling so good but not enough, as before.

Then Aemond drops his head on the pillow, covers himself with the sheets and finally he is carried away by the sleep, still hugging you.

You bite the inside of your cheek throughout, trying to control yourself so as not to get his attention when you've been doing so well and you close your eyes, wanting to go back to sleep

Yet there in the dark, in the place of you and Aemond, with his arm around you and holding you against him, feeling his soft breath at the base of your neck, you can't help but wonder: what if he's losing me?

You let out a long breath as you finally dare to walk through the huge doors of the big and tall building where Aemond works.

You have been here many times before, this is nothing new to you, however you feel anxious and a bit nervous as you have decided to come here without telling him before.

So you don't know if he is busy in the middle of a meeting or if he is in his office with a pile of papers around.

You are allowed free passage as most of the people here know you for being his girlfriend, so you don't really have any problems and say hello to all the receptionists, secretaries and security guards.

You have decided to come here to bring him his coffee of choice and also food, knowing that his break time starts in exactly ten minutes.

The thing is that he seems to be still working after all so you don't know what he must be doing now.

Once the elevator drops you on the floor where his office is, you instantly greet Eleonor, his assistant.

"It's been a while since I've seen you last, Y/N!"

She says with a loving smile, hugging you tightly and you smile hugging her back, taking care not to let the food and coffee fall out of your hands.

"Oh yeah, I'll tell you," she says pointing to all the paperwork on her desk with an exhausted look, "That man doesn't rest and you should put a limit on him," she says seriously.

"Yeah, I know," you both pull apart and you look at her without wiping your smile, "I've been really busy with college and also Aemond lately has had a lot of work so.... each one is on his own."

"You know how stubborn he is," you tell her as you shake your head in disappointment, "But anyway, I came to bring him food, is he in his office?" you point to his door.

"Oh no, he went to his father's office for some papers, but he should be on his way back by no—

The sound of the elevator makes you both turn your gazes to it, interrupting Eleonor and when the doors open Aemond appears, quickly walking out of there with his gaze fixed on the screen of his phone while in his other hand he holds a folder.

"There he is," Eleonor tells you with a small smile.

You smile back at her and turn your attention to Aemond, who looks so handsome in his office suits, so masculine and powerful, drawing everyone's attention everywhere he goes, adding to that his beautiful long silver hair.

But not only that, his sapphire eye also attracts attention.

He lost his eye in an accident as a child, however, by filling his empty socket with that precious stone, he feels even more powerful, signifying respect and endurance to him, also a form of intimidation as he will become the boss one day.

He also has a prosthetic eye, but that one he wears more when he is with his family or also when he was going to college, although already being at home, he doesn't wear anything.

You see the frustration all over his face at whatever he must be looking at on his phone screen, but when he looks up, everything softens the moment he sees you, a small smile appears on his lips, but also the slight confusion, speeding up his pace towards you a little more.

"Hey baby."

"Hi," you smile softly at him, closing the distance between the two of you.

"What are you doing here?"

He asks you without wiping away his small smile, reaching towards you and instantly leaning down to leave a soft kiss on your lips which you reciprocate, smiling.

"I came to bring you your black coffee and food too," you point to everything in your hands, proudly.

"But don't you have classes?" he asks you confused, watching everything and also you, attentive.

"In two hours"

"Oh thank you, my sweet girl," he leaves another soft kiss on your lips, taking the coffee first as he sets the papers down on Eleonor's desk to take a sip, "Uff, I needed that."

"Yeah," you let out a small laugh, "It's your lunch hour, isn't it?"

"It's supposed to be," he tells you as the frustration returns to his face and so does his bad mood, "I have an important meeting in five minutes, I just got word," he points to the boardroom with his gaze, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Oh," disappointment again washes over you, as you had hoped this wouldn't happen, "I was hoping to spend some time with you," you tell him trying not to sound as sad as you really are.

And he lets out a long breath, turning his expression of pity and concern.

"I know love," he tells you as he rests his forehead with yours, looking at you sadly and as if asking for forgiveness, "You know if I could do anything—

"No, no, I know, it's okay babe," you assure him, interrupting him, "Then I won't stop you anymore if you have to work."

You smile softly at him, though it doesn't quite reach your eyes and then take the topper where his food is, as Aemond watches you intently and even sadly.

"I'll leave this in your office until you can eat, then I'll leave."

"Wait," he stops you in a soft voice, pulling you back towards him as he takes your arm, "Y/N, about last night—

"Mr. Targaryen!"

Suddenly a female voice interrupts him and also the moment, making you both focus behind him, where a tall woman with long black hair, red dress and black high heels approaches with a rather elegant and calculated way of walking, with a huge smile on her lips.

Aemond watches you back and stands next to you as he intertwines his fingers with yours and clears his throat, turning back to watch her.

"Miss Rivers," he nods politely towards her.

"It is a pleasure to see you on this day, Mr. Targaryen," she nods her head towards him as well, placing herself in front of you both.

"It is also a pleasure."

You watch Aemond for a second and then turn your gaze to her, watching as she also watches you at about the same time and that's when he reacts.

"Love, this is Alys Rivers, co-owner of the Riverlands company," he tells you and points to you with his hand, "And Miss Rivers, this is Y/N Y/L/N, my girlfriend."

You usually meet a lot of people who are also involved in all this business management stuff because of Aemond, especially when he takes you with him to important events and dinners as his companion, so this isn't new either.

What is new is this woman... Alys Rivers.

Normally she would have been just another woman who owns a company and is doing business with Aemond for her father's company, but the way she subtly inspects you up and down, and you notice the way she looks at your joined hand with Aemond.... you don't like it.

She looks at you superiorly and as if you're no big deal, almost expectantly, her bright smile from before disappearing for a second, but then she holds out her hand to you.

"Oh sure, it is a pleasure to meet you," she says to you with the brighter smile from before, but completely fake.

You bite the inside of your cheek and since you shouldn't be rude, much less to what you think is Aemond's new partner and company, you take her hand and shake it briefly.

"A pleasure," you nod in her direction.

"We're discussing a contract," Aemond then tells you, leaning his body toward you.

"Oh really? That sounds—

"Actually, speaking of discussions," she interrupts you, catching both of your attention, "I'm sorry but could I steal your boyfriend for a moment?"

She asks you suddenly, her tone too high and mellow, completely fake, without erasing her smile, revealing her perfect, aligned teeth.

"I really don't mean to intrude," she says with a sorrow look, but you don't believe her at all, "It's just that I'm afraid your grandfather and also my uncle are already expecting us Mr. Targaryen," she turns to Aemond to focus on you again, "I'm sure you'll understand, business stuff."

Of course you understand, you know Aemond's job perfectly well and in fact you wouldn't have taken any more notice of this woman despite the fake way she acts towards you and also because of the way she looked at you before.

But... you care very much the moment she places her hand on Aemond's shoulder, exposing her perfect red painted nails.

"Shall we?" she asks him as she watches him with a certain gleam in her eyes and gaze, completely attentive and in his disposition.

Of course Aemond notices this too, who almost instantly watches as she touches him, not understanding what has happened to her to casually make such a gesture or rather what has she thought to take such a liberty, then subtly walking away from her, trying not to look annoyed.

"I'll be there in a moment," he tells her just as polite and serious as before.

But she is insistent.

"I'm sorry Mr. Targaryen but we must leave now."

"Don't worry, I'm sure my grandfather can speak in my absence."

The smile fades from her lips, but you see how she quickly pulls herself together, although you've had enough of this and you don't want to delay Aemond any longer even though you don't like this woman at all, but at least they won't be alone and there are more people involved in the meeting.

And before she speaks, you do, addressing him.

"Don't worry love, I'll be on my way," you smile at him, "I don't want to delay you any longer. But I'll see you tonight, okay?"

And this immediately gets his attention.

"Do you need someone to drive you? I can tell Cole."

"No, no need, it's fine," you assure him, "You eat this, okay?"

You point to the food then extend it to Eleonor, as he smiles softly.

"Okay."

"Have a good day, love you."

"You too, love you."

You leave a soft kiss on his lips and finally head to the elevator, feeling the piercing gaze of Alys Rivers, but you don't mind, since at least you weren't the fake one the whole time.

After you leave the building and head to the university, your day goes by slow, stressful and with a lot to do, until finally your class ends at almost nine o'clock at night and you head home completely exhausted.

Normally Aemond comes home at ten o'clock at night, however, you don't know why you were hoping that maybe he had come home earlier, however, when you get to the apartment everything is dark.

You let out a long breath and turn on the lights, wishing and hoping that Aemond was already here and that just for one night, he would be the one to welcome you home.

You've thought about bringing up the subject of how you should spend more time with him, how he could maybe organize his work schedule better, how you've been feeling lately and how you misses him, telling him that nothing feels like it used to.

So the days and weeks go by, nothing has changed, you are still working half days, you are still going to classes, doing projects, research and so on.

While Aemond is still working very hard at the company, both of you seeing each other until late at night when he finishes another long and stressful day at work.

However, the words get stuck in your throat as you see him coming home from work very tired, deciding it's best to let him rest and sleep.

But more and more you feel the disappointment and sadness envelop you, having to deal with it yourself because you don't want to upset him.

Then one day, everything starts to go wrong.

In the middle of your Sales and Negotiation class, suddenly your phone vibrates and while listening attentively to your professor, you briefly glance at the screen for a second, seeing that it's a message from Floris, a friend you and Aemond have in common.

She apparently sends you a link to a magazine article that you can't really read unless you open the chat, and then you see two more messages from her.

[Floris B]: you saw this??

[Floris B]: ????

This definitely gets your attention, but before you can do anything, your professor draws more attention from everyone in the class and you go back to being attentive, hoping none of it was a bad thing.

However, an hour after class ends, you finally leave the classroom and start walking down the hallway in the direction of your next class with your phone in hand, opening the curious magazine link and what pops up... it's definitely bad.

With your thumb you read more of the whole news, where yes there are pictures of Aemond with that woman in a restaurant, just the two of them, him in his office clothes and her in an elegant dress.

You feel your breathing getting heavier as you see more pictures, where there is one in particular where you see how she has her hand on top of his, they are both obviously talking but there are also papers and folders on the table.

Again you feel that sharp pain in your chest, not wanting to jump to conclusions so fast, you trust Aemond with your life but clearly you don't trust her.

What you don't understand is why they went to a restaurant together. If they have talked business, which in fact there is no other reason why the two of them would be together, why not take care of it at the office?

You enter Safari and as you google Aemond, you see the same magazine article everywhere, instantly more magazines and newspapers advertising the same thing, all about a possible relationship between him and Alys Rivers.

You let out a long breath and finally head to your class, trying not to think about it anymore, but as the minutes tick by... you can't.

In all your remaining classes you find it hard to concentrate, you feel an uncertainty and anxiety all the time, you feel really bad and you have no idea what will happen when Aemond and you see each other tonight.

Not only Floris messages you, but also other friends that you and Aemond have in common, but you don't respond to them, only making you feel more anxious that the news is spreading fast.

Until finally you can go home and having no other choice, you wait for Aemond to arrive.

You pour yourself a glass of wine, unable to help it and wait for Aemond at the kitchen island, drinking and having the hope that this, that woman, is no threat and that what happened just happened inside the business and will not happen anymore.

Or at least it won't happen anymore in the sense that Aemond won't show up with her publicly anymore to avoid the press making speculations like this, that whether you want it to or not, they affect you and a lot.

You really don't know what is going on with Aemond in the company, you don't know what he talks about with his grandfather, his father, his mother and this woman, you don't know about his negotiations, his work and that's why it affects you, because you don't know what is happening.

Everything would be simpler if he and you had the time to talk, to share what you do, what you should do, as before.

However... you have the suspicion that this is not only in Aemond's hands, but that it is something beyond, something this woman is in control of and you don't like it at all, not since you met her and she gave you a bad feeling.

And you finally let out all the air you're holding in when you hear the sound of the door.

You continue sitting still on the stool, with the glass of wine in your hands, waiting. When again you hear the sound of the door closing and the figure of Aemond appearing, instantly he sees you.

He lets out a long breath as it finally becomes clear to him that you saw the news, he knew it before when he too saw the article in his office and officially started his stressful and frustrating day, but he didn't think it would affect you so much.

He leaves his keys on the island and then takes off his jacket with a silence enveloping you both, where he watches you attentively but you don't look back at him, still deep in thought, taking another sip of your wine.

He sees your dull look, the anxiety all over your body, the uncertainty, the sadness, the stress and he bets that your treacherous thoughts are making you believe things that are not.

He also notices how bad you must feel and how tense and distant you are from him now, and that worries him more than anything else.

"Nothing happened between me and this woman, Y/N."

Then he decides to speak, not bearing this anymore, your silence, your attitude, your distance. He just wants to hold you, hug you and kiss you, which is all he wants every time he finishes another horrible day at work.

He tells you tactfully, his voice soft and honest, firm with what he's saying, taking a couple of steps toward you, to which you continue without looking at him.

"I just want to know why you went to that restaurant together," you tell him in your voice just as soft as his, almost even sounding tired.

And he knows you too well, however, because this news is practically everywhere, being the first time you both face something like this, you remain calm and willing to talk.

And this strangely confuses and surprises him.

Although it shouldn't since he knows that you never get angry with him, at least not in this kind of situations since from the beginning of the relationship, communication has always been paramount before jumping to your own conclusions, avoiding fights.

And this gives him a bit of confidence to move closer to you.

"I just thought it would be better to take care of some business in public," he tells you honestly, "I know you didn't like her when you met her, neither did I. I also know she started to cross physical boundaries and I didn't like the idea of being with her alone in my office, that's why I decided on a public place out of respect for you," he explains, "I should have known this would happen though," he says bitterly,

Nothing.

You say nothing. You just listen and think.

You still don't like that he's having encounters with this woman, but if he has to do it for company business, you're not going to have an argument with him when it's just work.

And your silence begins to unsettle and frustrate him.

"You believe me, don't you?" he asks you insistently, concerned.

"Of course I do," you tell him in a murmur, without much emotion, though honestly, watching him out of the corner of your eye.

You almost snort in disbelief, of course you believe him.

Only you know when Aemond is being honest or not and you are relieved that he is always thinking of you, but he is not the problem, it's his job and this woman, that's what doesn't leave you alone.

But Aemond doesn't feel reassured just hearing that from you.

You take the last sip of your wine glass and get up from the stool to head to the dishwasher, saying nothing more, then start heading for the bedroom, causing Aemond to become more concerned and insistent.

"Where are you going?"

"I want to sleep."

He lets out a sigh as he averts his gaze for a second.

"Come on Y/N, don't be like that," he looks at you sadly.

"I'm not doing anything," you tell him, walking past him.

"You haven't even looked me in the eye since I arrived," he insists, stopping you.

"Aemond..." you finally give him a look, "I'm tired."

"Me too but I want to fix this," he says immediately.

"No, I'm tired... of everything," you clarify, serious and also sad.

He looks at you without understanding.

"What do you mean? I already explained to you—

"No, it's not just her, it's... your work and us."

You say more specifically, causing more confusion from Aemond, who watches you with furrowed brows and parted lips, attentive.

"I've wished for just one, one day where we can spend time together," you confess to him, "I don't mean fifteen, twenty minutes, I mean the whole afternoon or evening, or a day where on your days off you're not cooped up in your office."

"Y/N, I-I—

"I know you have a lot of work, I understand that," you clarify, "I don't want to harass you with this too when you have more important things to take care of, truly—

"Do you think you're not important?" he asks instantly confused, bewildered.

And you... don't really answer him.

You stay completely silent, just watching him back and nothing else with an equally sad look, to which Aemond's face becomes more worried and confused than before.

"Y/N, you are one of my priorities," he tells you hurt, "How come you don't believe that now?"

"Yes I do," you clarify sadly, "What I'm saying is that you barely have time for me and I know it's not your fault because I know your job, but..." you let out a long breath, "Not even a single day have we been able to spend together, not a single one."

He instantly tries to speak, opening his mouth to say something, but immediately closes it and struggles to be able to find the right words he wants to say, getting frustrated with himself.

He really doesn't want to tell you again what you've heard before, but he can't find another explanation because that's the only truth.

He shakes his head, letting his sentence hang in the air, watching you with sorrow, sadness and worry, failing to say anything else, as you feel tears begin to form in your eyes, your vision blurring.

"Y/N, I-I...," he looks sad, "I swear to you, if I could do anything, I would, but...

You press your lips together as you don't want to start crying in front of him, you really don't want him to see you like this, but you can't control it and in an instant the tears fall freely down your cheeks as you avert your defeated gaze from Aemond.

"No, no, please don't cry, my love."

He tells you instantly more concerned than before and you quickly bring your hands up to cover your face, completely embarrassed and trying to control yourself.

But you can't as he quickly encloses you in his arms and pulls you into his body in a protective, comforting way, while at the same time leaving soft kisses in your hair, stroking your back gently with one of his large, firm hands.

"Shh, my sweet girl," he says softly and warmly above your head, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

You instantly hug him back too and sink your face deeper into his chest, sniffling your nose and controlling your sobs, really not wanting to cry anymore.

You missed this, completely. You just wish this wasn't happening under these circumstances.

"It's just that I miss you so much," you confess, clinging tighter to him.

And Aemond's heart breaks into pieces, instantly pulling you tighter against him, hating to see you in this state, hating to see you crying and even worse.... that you're crying for him.

"I miss you too baby, all the time," he says softly, "I miss you so much it fucking hurts."

He instantly leaves more soft kisses in your hair, also on your cheek, holding you tighter against him, while you let yourself be held in his arms and continue to cling against him, not wanting to let go and feeling that if you pull away, he will disappear at any moment right in front of you.

But it's only because you're vulnerable.

You don't know how long you both last like that, it must have only been a minute, but it feels like an eternity for both of you, especially for you, finally starting to calm down.

"I'm sorry," you say in a whisper and try to pull away from him a little, lifting one of your hands to wipe away your tears, "I didn't mean to get like this," you confess sadly, "I shouldn't be selfish."

"Hey, no, look at me."

He says in soft tone, placing one of his hands on your chin to lift your face towards him and you do so, watching him with sadness and embarrassment at the same time, as he gently shakes his head in your direction.

"No, it's not like that, you've just been busy having to attend to your wor—

"You're not selfish love," he makes it clear to you, "You're absolutely right. I've been neglecting you and that's not right of me."

"It's still not right," he insists, concerned, "And to be honest, if I were you I'd feel the same way," he confesses, "But I promise I'll do everything in my power to spend time with you, baby."

You shake your head in his direction.

"There are some things you can't control, Aemond."

"No matter, I miss you too, I want to spend time with you and I'll make sure of that."

You close your eyes and bring your forehead to his, both of you sinking into a comforting silence and a moment you haven't had in a long time, where it's just him and you.

He assures you softly and the two of you say nothing more, just stare into each other's eyes for a few moments.

Then he begins to gently trace your cheek with his thumb, attentively and delicately, watching you lovingly, as if he wants to memorize every detail of your face in his mind.

"My beautiful girl," Aemond murmurs fondly, in a low, soft tone.

You smile slightly and lean your face down to kiss his lips, he instantly reciprocates, holding your waist tighter against him as you place your arms around his neck and take complete refuge in him, needing this.

Aemond holds his hand more firmly on your cheek and deepens the kiss, working his way across your lips with his tongue, beginning to explore your mouth and you respond in kind in a slow, deep kiss.

Then you both part with a wet sound of your lips, you again embracing him and sinking your face into his neck, inhaling his cologne that drives you completely crazy and the fresh scent of detergent on his clothes that at the same time comforts you.

And finally everything feels right.

You there in Aemond's arms, this being exactly what you needed along with communication.

However, as the seconds pass with Aemond still holding you and both of you in that comfortable silence, he can't help but begin to feel guilty and remorseful.

At first he thought about not talking to you about this subject, solely so that you wouldn't worry and feel bad because of him, but now that you both have spoken... he can't keep something like this from you and he knows it's the ideal time.

"Love?"

He calls you softly, catching your attention, still both of you clinging in the embrace and the feel of each other's body with each other close.

"Hm?" you murmur, sending a vibration through his chest.

He presses his lips together for a moment, nervous, but no longer able to bear that another minute passes and you still don't know about this.

"There's something... I haven't told you."

And this definitely gets your attention more.

You slowly turn away from his body, instantly Aemond hating the feeling, then raise your gaze to him, watching him intently and all at once realizing that it's not something you'd like to hear.

You know it by the nervous, worried look he's giving you as you both again look at each other.

"What is it?"

He lets out a long breath, looking away from you for a moment, again having this difficulty being able to say the words he wants to say, wanting to explain everything to you gently, thoughtfully and clearly.

"Y/N... I-I... none of this has really been my decision," he tells you honestly, "But... I'm afraid you'll keep seeing me around this woman."

And it's definitely something you didn't like to hear.

Aemond waits attentively for your reaction, while you continue to watch him intently, your lips parted, a little confused, but neutral, this really not bothering you... yet.

"It's all for work Y/N, I know you know that but I don't want you to think otherwise if another news like this happens again," he tells you cautiously and attentively.

"So you'll go out with her again?"

He lets out a long breath.

"The company needs to associate with hers for our investment in an extra capital, since the attempted association with the Martells didn't work out and my grandfather...he asked me to take it over."

You lower your gaze for a moment, pursing your lips, processing the information, understanding perfectly well that this is solely for work and nothing else, but still... you don't like this woman at all.

"But I can keep Eleonor or Criston around if it's not to your liking," he tells you instantly, turning your gaze back to him, "I've even already taken care with our publicists to deny the rumor by saying it's all work between her and me, also we'll already be prepared in case this happens again."

"Aemond, I understand all of this perfectly," you clarify, assuring him with your tone and look, "I totally trust you but... it's her I don't trust and I don't like the way she behaves when she's around you."

He swallows hard, lowering his gaze for a moment, thinking very carefully about the words he will tactfully say to you next, not wanting to upset you.

"Also... my grandfather has suggested that perhaps it would be good and more efficient for us to partner with Riverlands sooner if I will begin to have an... intimate... relationship with her."

You feel a huge sharp pain in your chest, watching in mild surprise at Aemond, definitely not expecting that.

The silence surrounding you both only increases the pain inside you more, the sadness clinging to your heart, as you lower your gaze and part your lips, having your gaze wander to an invisible spot on the ground.

Tears begin to want to flow from your eyes, again, unable to control your overwhelming emotions any longer. As he instantly sees the sadness all over your face, the disbelief as well, beginning to worry you more.

"Of course I told him no, Y/N."

He tells you instantly, anguished and worried, taking your hands in his, but you don't react, at least not yet.

"He wants the media to start making publicity about the two of us, he thinks it will make the whole process easier and faster, that Rivers will be pleased along with her uncle. Even she...she's come on to me before but, but believe me Y/N, I have stopped her and been very clear with her about you and that I'm not the least bit interested."

"But she is interested in you," you tell her in your low, sad tone of voice, "And you won't be able to do much about it if you have to get yourself associated with her company. You'll have to keep seeing her, be in her company and be accessible to her if you want to make it."

"This shouldn't take me too long, love, I promise," he continues to tell you worriedly, wanting to make you understand, "Yes, you will see me with her but I also promise you that everything for me means work."

"But for her and your grandfather it's not only work, Aemond," you tell him a little more serious, just as sad, "She also wants to have you the other way, that's why she behaved with me the way she behaved when she met me."

You know that, totally.

"I know baby, I know," he tells you softly, "But I will never let her disrespect you, in any way."

He assures you firmly, determined.

"I don't care what my grandfather or her wants, neither what the press says about her and me, all I care about is that you understand that everything for me is work and that I would never do anything to hurt you and end everything between us, believe me that's the last thing I want," he tells you honestly, "And I also want you to keep in mind that I only want you."

You know that Aemond wants you, just the same way you want him and he loves you too, you both love each other, you love him with every fiber of your heart.

But it is all this that does not leave you calm, this is what you have never had to go through before and the insecurity along with the uncertainty consumes you as your mind is spinning non-stop, not even having the idea of what to think, with a knot forming in your stomach.

It all becomes more overwhelming and you don't know if you can get through this together, fearing for the future of the perfect relationship you had with him, the man you love.

And Aemond seeing this, just as worried, anxious and sad as you, not liking this at all either, knowing that he is asking too much of you seeing that you are thinking too fast, all the anxiety and stress through your body, instantly comes back to hug you to comfort you.

But he also does it to comfort himself.

His warm embrace feels like a safe haven in the midst of the moment you are going through, his arms wrapping around you gently but with a strength that makes you feel protected and loved, where you find comfort and his familiar fragrance makes you feel at home.

You experience the love and that connection of the two of you that seem to erase any worry or sadness you feel at that moment, also him, finding that primordial emotional support.

"I promise I will do everything in my power to make this all end soon, I promise love."

He assures you along with his gentle caresses on your back, his soothing words whispered in your ear making the outside world disappear and only the two of you exist, united in a loving embrace that makes you feel complete and loved.

And they also make you feel a sense of calm and hope that with your boyfriend's love and support, everything will be okay.

But neither of you knew what awaited you next.

After your conversation with Aemond, there really isn't much change in the relationship.

You tried your best not to think about him and that woman, you tried not to think about the fact that she was probably in the building at a certain time and that the two of them were together, being a thing almost every day that Aemond had to be in her company.

Your job at the coffe shop helped you not to overthink and focus almost one hundred percent on your classes, although in some free hours you had your boyfriend was in your thoughts.

What fortunately changed was that when your classes were over and you got home, he was already there waiting for you, the first night surprising you and making you feel completely happy.

You both were able to enjoy sharing an extended night together, having dinner, talking about everything and finally going to bed, you have also resumed some movie nights and also the nights of intimacy have been more constant.

But other than that... everything remains the same.

You and he haven't really talked about Rivers, you don't bring it up every time the magazines announce that he and she have been seen together again, clearly because the subject has already been discussed, but still, it makes you feel weird and you really don't like seeing those articles.

But you find it exhaustive that you have to talk it over with him again, so exhaustive for both him and you, that you don't want the two of you to end up having a fight afterwards.

So until now... you can just deal with it.

Until one day in a free hour before your last two-hour class starts, when you have your phone in your hand you get a new message and when you read it, it's from Aemond's sister, Helaena.

Hel🦋: hello beautiful!

Hel🦋: omg it has been ages

Hel🦋: I'm sure the event will be less boring with you🤭

Hel🦋: I am so excited to finally see you again on Saturday

Hel🦋: see you soon!

The messages make you smile and make you start to feel a warmth run through your chest, you too have been missing Hel for a while now as she works at Highgarden as well in a company expansion on her father's.

You haven't seen her for months and clearly communication by message doesn't happen much as both of you, especially her, are just as busy as Aemond.

But the smile doesn't last long on your face as you had no idea about this event, since you know what event it is, only that Aemond hasn't told you about it.

They are one of the typical important events where all the relevant businessmen attend, where they announce new innovations, where they make partners and where basically everyone allies with everyone.

When you get home, this time you are the one who arrives first and although you tried to control yourself by not asking him anything right away, you can't hold back anymore and that's what you do after he gets home from work.

Since you and Aemond started your relationship, you have always accompanied him to these events.

And especially at this one, since it's organized by his family, but you didn't know it would certainly happen because he didn't tell you anything.

And honestly he looks surprised when you ask him why he hadn't told you about the event, not expecting that, this getting your attention and instantly you know the reason isn't good and you're not going to like hearing it.

"I did wanted to tell you because I know we always go together, love" he says to you with some regret, "But now Rivers will be there an—

"You're going with her?"

You just ask him, all starting to form in your mind, while he doesn't say anything back right away and just stares at you uncertainly for a few moments and the realization starts to become more apparent to you.

"Your grandfather told you to take her as your companion?" you ask him more specifically now, watching him intently, waiting for his answer.

And you begin to see perfectly well how he starts to get frustrated.

"Yes but I told him I wouldn't do that," he clarifies instantly, looking at you worried and honest, "That's why I decided better to go on my own if everyone will be there."

You frown slightly at him.

"And what's wrong with me going with you?"

He doesn't answer, watches you for a few moments still with sorrow in his gaze, then lowers his head, staring at the ground as he lets out a long breath and runs a hand over his face.

Then you answer your own question, understanding him.

"You don't want to take me because everyone will be there and your grandfather won't be pleased to see me with you when you should have taken her with you?"

"Love, listen," he tells you immediately, walking towards you, "It's more than that, okay?" he says attentively and distressed, "I just thought that it wouldn't be comfortable for you to go with me to that place if she will be there—

"Everyone is talking about her and you," you tell him with your most serious tone, interrupting him, "Everyone will expect her and you to go together and of course your grandfather won't be happy to see me coming with you, why don't you tell me that?"

"Okay, yes, you are right, but I don't want to go with her, I want to go with you, I have always gone with you," he says in clarification, "But on this occasion I don't think it will be necessary, besides it won't be comfortable for you."

You let out a snort.

"Do you think I won't be able to handle it?"

"No, I mean, of course you can," he tells you instantly, "But you know her, she's very reckless and I don't want us to have a fight after that."

"Then do we put a limit on her, like you have done all this time with her or not?" you ask expectantly.

"Yes, of course I have put limits on her, but in that place..." he pauses, frustrated, "There will be a lot of people, our partners, my family and the press will always be watching, everything will be three times too much. Besides I'll have to attend an announcement along with her and all eyes will be on her and me and I don't want you to feel bad."

You let out a breath, turning your gaze away from him, feeling discomfort in your body, starting to walk away from him to go to your room.

"Okay, I get it, you don't want me to go with you, just say so."

And he reacts instantly.

"Hey, no, no, no, I didn't say that," he says worriedly, stopping you and placing himself in front of you, looking at you pleadingly, "Baby, please."

You let out a long breath, closing your eyes for a moment.

"It's just that you're treating me like I don't know this... your whole world, like I haven't gone to these events with you before," you tell him sadly, "Your grandfather knows we're together and yet he's asking you for this kind of thing... like as if I were a nuisance and at the same time like if I don't exist. And it's been like that ever since she—

You stop, not wanting to say anything else, feeling the lump in your throat and how tears begin to form in your eyes, bringing your hands instantly to your face, not wanting to cry now and feel bad, telling yourself that you're overreacting.

But all of this is really how you feel and you can't help it. And mostly you don't want to show your true feelings or speak your thoughts so as not to overwhelm him.

But just as you understand him, he understands you too.

"Fuck no, please don't cry baby, I hate to see you cry."

He tells you to then wrap you in a warm, firm embrace, holding you tight against his chest where he instantly feels all the tension through your body and pulls you tighter against him, wanting to protect you from everything that hurts you at that moment.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, love."

He tells you in low murmurs as he gently strokes your hair and you let out more of your tears, clinging completely to him.

"No, it's not your fault," you tell him sadly, sobbing softly against his chest.

He lets out a sigh.

"Yes it is," he says softly, "You don't deserve any of this."

He leaves a soft kiss in your hair, still hugging you and having no intention of letting you go, while you let yourself be carried away by the comforting warmth of his body, wanting to keep feeling that familiarity and security that only he can give you, in spite of everything.

"I know things have been hard lately and I'm so sorry, but... I love you and I care about you, you mean the whole world to me."

"I know babe," you murmur back, "I love you too and I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get like this."

"No, no, it's okay love," he assures you, "We're going to get through this, just like we always have, remember?"

You nod your head even though you have it resting against his chest, then sniffle your nose and raise one of your hands to wipe away your tears, as he pulls away from you a little so he can look into your eyes and leave a soft kiss on your lips which you instantly reciprocate, again taking refuge in his arms.

Both of you at that moment feel vulnerable and lost for a moment in the uncertainty of the situation, but you knew you had to face whatever it was together.

Aemond feels in control of the relationship, but you feel more at a crossroads because of the uncertain future of the relationship itself.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Let Me Love You | 1 - B. Barnes

Character: college!Bucky x Female!Reader

Summary: On a mysterious, rainy night, Bucky witnesses a distressing encounter involving his crush.

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8.

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 

Fast-food restaurants are always the quick choice for exhausted students after learning a lesson.

Today, WHAM Burger near St. Louis University is bustling with customers, mostly college students from the university. The aroma of sizzling burgers and the familiar hum of conversations fill the air.

Inside the restaurant, everyone stands in line at the cashier or fiddles with the self-order machine. Even the drive-thru is buzzing with activity. Most cars have to wait, but for Bucky, who is behind the wheel, the wait is inconsequential. However, his friends, Steve and Sam, seem less patient.

“Their double cheeseburgers are delicious. But eating them three times a week? I'm going to hate my favorite food, Bucky,” Steve remarks from the back seat.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “There are other choices, like salads.”

Sam laughs, fingers dancing on his phone screen. “You'd have to put a gun to Steve's head if you want him to eat a salad.”

Bucky chuckles, his eyes focused on the road. Sam and Steve sigh, observing their friend who has become a love fool. Almost every week, they find themselves at this fast-food haven. There's a particular reason Bucky insists on coming here.

Finally, their car inches forward to the cashier's window. Bucky rolls down the window and is greeted by a familiar face.

“Welcome to WHAM Burger. Oh, hi, guys!” Your bright voice cuts through the air, and the trio of friends can't help but smile.

“Hi, Y/N,” Sam and Steve chime in, well aware that Bucky becomes speechless when he sees you.

You flash them a genuine smile, recognizing the familiar faces. Your fingers swiftly input their usual order. “You guys just got back from the chess club?”

Bucky nods, attempting to say more but finding his words stuck. He never anticipated becoming a lovefool, but he fell for you the first time he laid eyes on you.

It was on a snowy day when Bucky first saw you. A girl, squatting down to rescue a stray cat. That quiet moment led to him forgetting his chess tournament appointment, instead accompanying you to the nearby shelter.

You, a stranger in the area, had just landed a part-time job at the fast-food joint. Bucky admired your selflessness and love for animals. Even though you couldn't adopt the cat, he assured you someone would. In gratitude, you treated him to hot chocolate, and in that instant, Bucky fell in love.

However, his friends later shattered his newfound joy, revealing that you had a boyfriend, the quarterback, Lloyd Hansen, and that you were childhood sweethearts.

Back in the present, your cheerful voice snaps Bucky out of his reminiscence. “Thank you so much. Please come again.”

“Yes, yes, I will,” Bucky mumbles, grabbing the card from your hand. The slight touch sends a jolt through him, and he can't help feeling like a creep.

As Bucky drives away from the drive-thru, Sam and Steve enjoy their fries, teasing Bucky about moving on.

“Dude, you need to move on. If not, both of us are going to gain weight,” Steve says, munching on his cheeseburger.

Bucky rolls his eyes. "I didn't invite you." Despite not being explicitly invited, the three always go home together since they live in the same apartment building, and WHAM Burger is conveniently on the way.

Bucky huffs, but he can't stay mad at them. After all, they've been his closest friends since high school. Despite their advice, he can't fathom why his feelings for you continue to grow. If there's a love cupid, Bucky can't help but blame it, as the cupid seems to have misfired its arrow onto the wrong target.

In the rearview mirror, Sam and Steve exchange knowing glances, silently hoping their friend will soon find a way to move on from his unrequited love.

Reader P.O.V

“Shit… shit.” You blame yourself for not bringing an umbrella with you, even though since the morning, you noticed the clouds had a dark color.

You protect the food bag to make sure it doesn't get wet. You had just finished your shift when your boyfriend, Lloyd, texted you to bring food to his practice.

Lloyd and you have been together since childhood, crowned as king and queen at prom night. Everyone says that both of you are a sweet couple.

Lloyd got a full scholarship for his athletics and is studying law. Meanwhile, you received half a scholarship. St. Louis is a prestigious university with famous alumni.

It has been your dream to study here, and you also want to stay with Lloyd. However, growing up, you learned to be responsible on your own, managing your own money and working.

Between studies, clubs, and part-time jobs, you and Lloyd used to be close, but now, it's getting difficult to meet. Lloyd has become busy with practices and interviews since he brought a championship to the university.

But you want to make this relationship work.

When the bus stops in front of the university, you have to run to the university gym.

You sprint as fast as you can despite the heavy rain.

Lloyd is lifting weights when he sees you soaking wet. He grabs a towel and dries your hair. “Thanks, babe. You came all the way here.”

You reply, “It's alright.”

“Has the food arrived?” A female voice is heard from behind you.

You turn around and see a girl with perfect hair, wearing a training outfit that accentuates her body curves.

You glance down at yourself still wearing your work uniform and a jacket.

Lloyd says, “Yup. Here you go,” as he hands the food bag to Nicky. She's the daughter of the university football sponsor. Lloyd have mentioned her name a few times. But everytime you hear her name, you don't feel secure.

You clench your fist, watching their interaction. Lloyd gives Nicky the food you brought with effort through this heavy rain, and Nicky shows a shy smile towards him.

Your heart sinks as you catch the subtle exchange of glances between them. The smile that Lloyd reserves for you is now being shared with someone else. It feels like a stab in the chest, a betrayal you didn't see coming.

Lloyd looks at you. “Could you wait for a while? We will go back together.”

You put on a fake smile that you've mastered at work. “No, it's alright. I came here with an Uber car. The driver is waiting for me.” You lied; your phone battery had already died.

Lloyd nods. “Alright, text me when you've arrived.”

“Okay.”

You turn and walk faster to avoid the eyes of the bystanders. You don’t want your effort to be judged.

When you get out from the building, the rain is still pouring heavily. You grit your teeth. Is this your unluckiest day?

You run faster to the bus stop while crying.

“Y/N.”

You think your ears have mistaken you. With this heavy rain, you hear someone call your name.

It's impossible.

“Y/N!”

The voice becomes clearer. You turn around and see the silhouette getting closer. He comes running while holding an umbrella.

“Bucky?”

Bucky was just walking out from the library. He was in the chess club when he saw you running from the university gym. He wonders what the heck you are doing alone in this heavy rain.

When he sees your eyes red and your nose, it seems like you've just cried. The same happened when he found out you had a boyfriend; his eyes and nose were red too.

And he sees you coming out of the gym; that means the cause is related to Lloyd.

But now he can't let you be like this. He gives you his umbrella and runs back to the library.

You are stunned while holding the umbrella. Bucky suddenly appears, giving you the umbrella, and runs away.

You try to catch up with him, but he runs too fast. You can only shout, “Bucky, thank you!”

Tomorrow, you have to say thank you to Bucky. At least today, someone cared for you. You feel gratitude and confusion at the rain-soaked bus stop. Bucky's unexpected act of kindness adds another layer to your swirling emotions.

The next day, when you went to find Bucky, he wasn't in class. Both of you studied business.

Steve told you, "Bucky got a fever, so he stayed at home." You felt guilty when you heard that because the reason why he got sick is because of last night; he gave you his umbrella.

You asked Steve, "Can I visit him?" Steve couldn't believe what he just heard, but if you came to visit Bucky, perhaps his fever would be gone in a second. "Sure, I'll give you the address," he said, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

You nodded appreciatively, saying, "Thank you," with a sincere smile.

‘Cough, cough.’

Bucky poured water into a glass. He had a fever and a sore throat because of the rain last night. The relentless downpour seemed to echo the storm within him, a storm fueled by the regret of not bringing you home with his car. He couldn't shake the thought that if he had, perhaps he wouldn't be in this sickly state.

‘Knock. Knock.’

He opened the door, never expecting to find you standing there. You held a steaming bowl of hot soup in your hands. “Bucky, I’m sorry. Because of me, you got sick.”

Bucky shyly answered, the lines of worry etched on his face. It wouldn't matter if he had to cross a sea of fire; he would do it for you. “No, it’s not because of you.” He grabbed the food you brought, appreciating the warmth it brought, both physically and emotionally. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.”

You shook your head, a genuine smile gracing your face. “You really helped me last night. Thank you.”

Feeling restless and vulnerable in his weakened state, Bucky looked at you nervously and said, “I have something to tell you.”

Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

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[dragonmama76]

Working on part 2 of Beginnings, but until then here’s a small interlude. You can read the first bit here Part One

“Are you excited to start high school?” Steve feels like every lame adult he’s ever known, but he’s been wanting to have this conversation for a while now, preferably before his gang of nerds walk unprepared into his alma mater.

“I mean, sure.” Dustin says. “They have an amazing media lab and the AP science teachers are supposed to be really good. It’s never too early to think about college! Uh, sorry Steve.”

“Alright, shut it. If I had a brain like yours maybe I’d be in college now.” Steve rolls his eyes affectionately.

“And I heard Nancy say there’s an after-school club for D&D, so that might be okay. I mean, it won’t be as good without Will there but…” Mike trails off, a frown settling on his face.

“Yeah, okay I guess your demons and dingbats thing could be good.” Steve feels vaguely uneasy. Something to do with that club...it probably doesn't matter.

“Well, I’m also trying out for the basketball team.” Lucas adds softly.

“My man!!” Steve grins and holds his hand up for a high five. “I’m around if you want to get some practice in before tryouts. And I've got an in with the coach if you want me to put in a good word for you.”

“Nice! I'm always up for more practice!" Lucas grins back matching Steve's enthusiasm.

"And nepotism," retorts Dustin.

"Okay, brain boy. I don't know what that is, but it sounds gross and we don't have it." Steve smirks and cocks his head before remembering this was supposed to be a serious conversation.

"Anyway...I just wanted to talk to you guys about sticking together and always having each-other's backs." Steve starts and Dustin, of course interrupts, "Obviously, Steve. Who do you think we are?"

"No, man, I know. It's just that it can be pretty intimidating and the bullying can be...more intense than what you're used to in Middle School." Steve conceeds.

"Like you'd know anything about being bullied!" snorts Mike, "You were the bully."

"Uh...well." Steve doesn't want to scare the kids, but he does want them to be prepared. "I was kind of an asshole for a while..."

"Ya think?" Dustin chimes in.

"Shut up and let me talk!" Steve says in his best mom voice. "I had to learn to be harder in school. My freshman year this older kid made me his target and it was pretty awful. It got so bad I didn't even want to go to school half the time."

"That really sucks, man." Lucas gives Steve a supportive look.

"Aw, what, did he call you names? Make fun of your hair?" Mike sneers. He can't help but run his mouth sometimes. He likes Steve well enough, but not like Dustin and Lucas do and he can't stand how they worship him sometimes. Steve isn't that great.

"Dude. He pulled a knife on me for like, no reason. I was fourteen."

"Woah" Dustin just exhales. "So like, is high school....dangerous?" All three boys are seriously paying attention now, eyes wide.

"Nah, not normally. Anyway, it got better once I was deep in with the guys on the basketball team. So I'm just saying. Find a group that has your back. And you guys look out for other kids too, all right? And tell ME if anyone bothers you. I've got a bat that can sort them out."

"Dude....you can't just nailbat a teenager." Dustin snorts.

"I dunno, squirt," Steve ruffles Dustin's hair and he yelps ducking away, "If I find out anyone is messing with you guys....well, maybe not the nail bat, but just...promise to tell me okay? I don't want anyone of you going through what I did."

"We promise." They all chime dutifully.

"Hellfire!" Mike shouts as they all turn to look at him like he's got three heads. "What?" he says, "That's the name of the club."

"Hellfire." Steve mutters. Why does that name make his stomach hurt? He'll probably remember later. Meanwhile he's glad his twerps are going to have a good support system when they start school.

Read Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Tag list (ask if you want to be tagged for the full part 2) @swimmingbirdrunningrock @phirex22 @lilpomelito @thaliaisalesbian

[lagataprrr]

Blame it on the Club's Playlist| Chapter 2 Hey Baby (Drop it to the Floor)

S. Gojo x plus!size fem reader

Warnings: slight dry humping, heavy makeout session, heavy petting, fingering, multiple orgasms mentioned, car sex, Gojo being completely obsessed with reader, readers insecurities maybe getting the best of her

Blame it on the Club's Playlist | Masterlist

Credits to @super-marvel-dc for the gojo divider!!! They have more on their profile🥹

a/n: PART 2!!! thank you to the sweet messages and comments about wanting to be added to the taglist. This one is a little longer and you'll see that the song isn't made too much of like a deal as the previous but that was on purpose swearrrr. ANYways, I hope y'all love it, part three is already in the works as well.

Also! Y/F/D = Your favorite drink just in case anyone was wondering.

Strong hands gripping your thigh, your back arching as you let out a high pitched moan. The euphoric feeling of his warm tongue going in and out of your gushing hole making tingles run through your entire body, your toes curling and the knot in your lower belly tightening. You were about to cum, the feeling making you tremble, your thighs threatening to close.

"Gonna cum for me, pretty girl?" His words vibrating against your clit. Moving his lips to suck on that sensitive bundle of nerves.

"O-Oh ngh, fuck-"

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You jolted awake, your old college sweatshirt sticking to your skin from the sweat that had broken out on your body. The feeling of your underwear so moist and sticking to you made you cringe.

You had another wet fucking dream about him. It's only been about six days since you had gone to the club with your friends. Six days since you had gotten head from that really hot man in the VIP area. Six days since you practically ran away from what could have been the best fuck of your life. Letting out a sigh, you pushed the duvet off you. Your feet touching the cold hardwood floors of your room, as you walked into the bathroom. Stripping off your clothes and turning on the shower faucet, waiting for the water to be as cold as can be. The ice cold water brought a sort of relief to you scalding skin.

It's like ever since Satoru ate you out he left your skin on fire. You can't even forget the way his fingers dragged over your thighs. His mouth on you branding its way into your very core.

Your cunt practically throbbed at the thought of him, a pulsating sensation on your clit making you bite your lower lip. Shaking your head and lathering your body in your coconut soap. The rest of your shower spent on thinking of Satoru.

♡

"Oh come on, you have to come with us tomorrow!" Your friend whined, her grip on your hand tight.

"You have to go and get your man." Your other friend pointed out.

"Absolutely not. I've already embarrassed myself enough." You mutter, your eyes reading over the homework instructions on your laptop screen. Slipping your hand out of your friends grasp to quickly type something in your blank google doc.

Your friends roll their eyes. "He ate you out, he was clearly into you." your eyes widened, looking around the library, to see if anyone had heard your very loud friend.

"For christ sake. Do not keep saying that shit, we're in public."

"Well you were in public too, you know." Your friend pouts and you slap her shoulder. "I'm just saying, you didn't really care."

You shook your head at her antics, typing away. Your other friend giggled, scrolling away on social media. "Just leave her, if she doesn't want to hang out with us its her decision."

You gasp. "It is not because I don't want to hang out."

Your other friend lets out a pout. "You're right, she doesn't wanna hang out with us."

You slumped your shoulders. Knowing they were teasing, and the little voice in the back of your head begging for you to just take a chance. Go with them. Maybe finish what was started. But the other voice, the opposite of this one, denied it. Saying that you shouldn't. You would just embarrass yourself.

But then again, maybe just try? It's not like he's going to be there again right? You can just go, dance, have a few shots again and just have fun with your friends. You're not going because of Satoru. You're going because you just want to hang out with your friends.

Chewing on your bottom lip, pondering, your friends exchanged looks. Already knowing that they would come with you back to your apartment to get ready.

After a few quiet minutes, you turned back to the both of them. "Fine. I'll come with."

Your friends immediately squeal in delight, only for the librarian to come around the corner and shush them loudly. Closing your laptop and stuffing it into your bag. "Okay, I am leaving before the librarian kicks me out because of you two." Your friends laughing as you walked out. Heading down the campus square to the small cafe shop you've accustomed yourself to go too whenever you wanted to be alone. The little bell on the glass door chiming, and immediately your met with the buzzing of students talking amongst themselves, and the smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet pastries baked in the early morning. Getting in line, you pull out your phone, scrolling through social media and answering a couple of messages you've missed when your ears perk up at a table that was a few feet away.

"You're so lame Suguru, we could be doing anything right now. But you just want to be doing this stupid project." Glancing up to see a mop of familiar white hair and wide back. The tall body fit into the small chair of the cafe table. You felt your stomach drop as you recognized him.

"If we get this over with, we'll have the entire weekend to be free, Satoru." His friend with dark locks sat across from him reminded, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his own chair. The white-haired man in front of him groaning and throwing his head back, making you panic, turning your head to look elsewhere.

Would he recognize you? No, no he wouldn't. You're not dolled up like you were that night. You're wearing a pair of comfy leggings and a way oversized hoodie, that sort of makes you look a little bigger than you normally are, and your comfy socks covered by your tan colored crocs. Your hair pinned up in a sort of bun, that you were sure your hair was probably falling out of.

"I can take your order now ma'am." Your attention was ripped away to the smiling cashier, which you recognized was a classmate from a class from your last semester. You stepped towards the counter and gave her a small smile. "Hey Y/N, good to see you!"

Forgetting the white haired man sitting a few feet away, you nodded at the cashier in acknowledgement. "Good to see you too. I hope your semester is going well."

"It is. What can I get for you today?"

"Can I have Y/F/D and a cheese danish, please?" The cashier nods, inputting your order into the register. Tapping your student id against the reader, and grabbing the pastry you stepped to the side awaiting for your drink to be prepared.

Engrossed in your phone for a few minutes till your name was called. "Y/N, your drinks is ready." You smiled and thanked the cashier, grabbing the drink and heading out of the cafe.

Completely unaware of a pair of striking blue eyes that would not leave you not even as you walked out of the building, following your figure till you disappeared.

"So I'm going to assume that's her." Suguru says, staring at his best friends dumbfounded face.

Turning his head back at the raven haired man. "Huh?"

"Y/N. The girl you met last Friday that you will not shut up about." He says, taking a sip of his oi cha green tea. "The one you met last Friday? You know the one that ran away from you-"

"Yes, yes thats her. No need to rehash her running away from me." Satoru groans, slumping in the chair with a pout.

"She saw you when she came in."

Satoru sat up at this, his eyes widening. "She did?" A grin forming on his lips.

"Yeah. Saw your dumbass, and turned away. Thought she was gonna run again." Suguru teased and Satoru pouted. "I'm just kidding, man. Look, for all you know maybe she's just shy."

Satoru groaned, laying his head on his open notebook. His cheek squished against the page, creasing the paper making Suguru roll his eyes. Tapping his pen on Satoru's head. "Your creasing your pages."

"Why do you think she ran out on me?"

"Maybe you gave her bad head."

Satoru was quick to lift his head and glare at him. "Excuse you, she came twice, in a row. So no. It can't be." Suguru laughed, shaking his head. Satoru glaring at him as he closed his notebook and stuffing it carelessly in his bag, Suguru doing the opposite.

"Anyways, I don't know man. Maybe she is shy, or she freaked out."

"About what? I was clearly into her, I mean fuck. She was perfect."

Suguru could practically see heart eyes on his best friends face. An uncommon look for him, since usually he's a one and done kind of guy. "What you in love or something?"

"What? No. I'm just saying she was just so pretty. Well, is."

Suguru hums, walking beside his tall friend. The sun illuminating the square nicely across campus, students moving to the dorms and others to their cars.

"You going to the club again tomorrow?" Suguru asks, and Satoru shrugs.

"I don't know. My new Digimon game I ordered arrives tomorrow." He grins and receives a smack to the back of his head.

"Stop being such a idiot, and go to the club. I'll go with you if you want. We can go after practice." Suguru offers and Satoru hums, putting a finger under his chin dramatically thinking. "Offer disappearing in three... two... one-"

"Fine. Fine."

And now here he was. Satoru tapped his fingers against his steering wheel of his blue BMW M8. The rich leather of the steering wheel feeling comforting against the pads of his fingers.

What the fuck? You're Satoru Gojo. Get a grip. Satoru thought to himself, as he shook his head. Putting on his glasses and killing the engine, stepping out of the car and tossing the keys to the nearest valet worker.

"Yo' Gojo." Turning his head, he's met with the familiar sly grin of Toji Zenin, right behind him Suguru and Nanami Kento.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Came to see your pussy ass. Heard all about your Friday night when you were telling Geto."

"Or more like his nosy ass, was eavesdropping when you called." Suguru mutters, and Satoru groans.

"Ever the nuisance." Nanami says and Toji rolls his eyes.

"Whatever, point is, came to get some game too. Since I'm tired of the campus girls."

"Or they could be tired of you and your broke self." Nanami says and Satoru and Suguru snort, walking past security into the loud club. The voice of Toji cussing at Nanami being drowned out by the booming base of the current song playing. Women's and men's heads turned at the group, making Toji grin at the attention.

"Well I don't know about you bums, but I'm gonna go get a piece tonight." Toji says and immediately disappears in the crowd.

"I'm gonna go get a drink." Nanami mutters, and Suguru nods.

"Yeah me too, you want something?" Suguru asks, and Satoru shakes his head.

"I'm heading to the bathroom." and the raven haired man nods, following the blonde head towards the bar.

Satoru walked through the crowd, not really feeling the sweaty bodies that kept bumping into him. Just a few feet of the bathroom until someone else collided into his chest.

"Oh shit, I'm so sorry-"

"No, it's fine- Oh! It's you." His eyes focusing on your pretty face. The look of realization falling on your features, as soon as you recognize just the person you bumped into.

"Umm, I think you might be confusing me with someone." You rush, and were about to turn when his hand grabs your forearm.

Your head turns to him, surprise on your eyes and Satoru reluctantly let go of your arm. "My bad."

You nod and head off back to your friends. Leaving a Satoru to once again stare at your ass as you walk away. Wearing another pretty dress that made you look so so good. Even if it was walking away from him.

Before he could even react, Suguru's arm went over his shoulders, passing him a glass of some sugary liquor.

"You might need this tonight, you know, so you can grow some balls again."

♡

"He's here?!" Your friends squeal over the loud music. "What did he say?!"

"Nothing he just recognized me, and I just came back to you guys."

One of your friend groans while the other facepalms. "Seriously?"

"Y/N come on! He clearly came tonight in hopes of seeing you!"

You shook your head, running a hand through your hair. Suddenly feeling out of place, and uncomfortable.

Let her go, la-la-la-la

If your girl wanna play, let her go (ah-ha)

Said let her go, la-la-la-la

The song blared through the speakers, the bass feeling like its directly in your chest. Shaking your head, you grabbed the shot of tequila from your friends hand and throwing your head back. "I'm gonna go dance." Wanting to get away from your friends questions and advice. Getting through the crowd of people and finding a spot the corner of the dance floor, where there were barely people and the colorful lights barely shined on. Swaying your hips to the beat, and trying to drown out the rest of the people.

If your girl wanna play, let her go (ah-ha)

Said let her go, la-la-la-la (ah-ha)

If your girl wanna play, let her go (ah-ha)

Said let her go, la-la-la-la

From afar, blue eyes were on you again, you could feel the gaze. Your eyes looking through the crowd to meet them, and feeling a knot on your lower belly once you did. It felt like last Friday all over again. You became entranced, your body warming up from his gaze all over you. Once again the alcohol in your veins served as a motivator to move your hips to the music. Closing your eyes and letting yourself get lost to the rhythm, entrapped in the beat and the loud pounding of the bass.

Satoru watched you, and he was fully enraptured by you. Unbeknownst to him, he had started moving your way. Making his way through the people, until he reached your little corner. Bringing the sweet drink in his hand and taking a sip. The sweet liquor nursing his nerves, and making the warmth in his skin to start to overheat.

Even with your eyes closed you knew he was right there, the nerves in you beginning to pick up but also your heart beat pounding. Or maybe that was just the loud ass bass from the music? Letting out a shaky breath, and opening your eyes, lifting your hand to him. "Wanna dance?"

Satoru lets out a grin taking your hand, and you pulled him behind you. Your back meeting his front immediately, and Satoru this time was a bit more mindful. Not wanting you to run away again, he kept his hand in yours. In your mind you questioned it.

You ran out on him, you idiot. You thought. Shaking away your doubts, you brought his hand to your hip, placing it there and keeping your hand over his, as a motion for him to hold you. Following your indication, he did, digging his fingers in the fabric that covered your hip, though even with the dress you could feel the burning touch of his fingers.

Hey, baby girl, what you doin' tonight?

I wanna see what you got in store (hey, hey baby)

You're giving it your all when you're dancin' on me

I wanna see if you can gimme some more (hey, hey baby)

"I haven't stopped thinking of you, since that night." He admits into your ear. Your ass grinds against him, and he was already semi-hard, letting out a low groan against you.

"I haven't stopped thinking of you either." You respond, turning your head slightly to look at him. More like, look at his mouth. His pink lips that had a little glaze from the drink he had been drinking. His breath smelled like sugar, and a teeny bit of liquor. Satoru moved his hips in rhythm with yours, pushing his hard on against your ass making you hum.

"You looked good yesterday, you know." His words make you widen your eyes, looking up into his own. He grins, moving his head closer to your cheek at the corner of your mouth. "Too bad you avoided me, wanted to talk to you." He pouts, placing a kiss on the spot. Your lips itching for him to kiss you.

"You saw me?"

"At the cafe, on campus."

Your breath hitches and you felt your throat run dry. He grins, and brings his drink up to his lip, your eyes watching his every move, the Adams apple on his throat bopping as he swallows. And suddenly you're so fucking thirsty.

You can be my girl, I can be your man

And we can pump this jam however you want (hey, hey baby)

Pump it from the side, pump it upside down

Or we can pump it from the back and the front (hey, hey baby)

"Y/N." Your name sounds so good on his tongue, and it sounded so good to your ears. Making a pulse run through your cunt, and you could already feel yourself become more slick in your juices. "That's your name right, pretty girl?" You nod, Satoru placing another soft kiss on the corner of your mouth and you slowly turned your head, kissing him and moaning at the sweet taste on him. Your lips moving in sync, as he licked your bottom lip and playfully biting it, pulling it until letting go. "Couldn't forget you at all, pretty girl. Even when you ran out on me."

"I didn't mean too." You confess into his lips, grazing the softness of them as you spoke. "Got nervous." You mutter and he nods, grinning. His grip on your hip tightened and pulled you back so deliciously, now practically pushing his hard on up and down your ass.

Ooh, baby, baby la-la-la-la-la-la-la (ah-ha)

Ooh, baby, baby la-la-la-la-la-la-la (ah-ha)

Ooh, baby, baby la-la-la-la-la-la-la (ah-ha)

Ooh, baby, baby la-la-la-la-la-la-la (hey, hey, baby)

"It's okay, baby."

"Satoru," You whimpered, the vibrations on your body and the heat overwhelming. And Satoru could almost bust a nut at the mention of his name in such a sinful way.

"Say it again." Pressing kisses on your jaw, you let out a low moan.

You grind against him, your hips moving up and down, the song in the background only working as a motivation to continue moving.

Ooh, drop it to the floor

Make me wanna say hey, baby (you can have whatever you want)

Yeah, you can shake some more

Make me wanna say hey baby (you can have whatever you like)

Ooh, you got it, 'cause you make me wanna say hey baby (you know what I want)

Yeah, don't stop it 

(I want you tonight)

"Fuck." Satoru curses, your ass felt so fucking good. And suddenly he's starting to feel like a 15 year old again, feeling like he could cum in his pants any second now.

In a second you've turned around, sliding your arms around his neck and bringing him down to kiss him. His hand still on your hip, and the other holding on tightly to his drink. Your fingers lightly pulled on the short hairs of his undercut, making him groan. Giving you the chance to run your tongue on his, spit mingling with his.

Don't hate the game that won't solve it

I want to get with you, mami

Now let me see where the Lord split you (dále)

Pulling away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. You shook your head, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. "I want more, Satoru."

Like music to his ears, and he's quick to set his drink on a nearby surface and grabbing your hand. Placing a soft kiss on your lips before motioning for you to walk ahead. Though this time, he's guiding you out of the doors. Shooting a quick text to your friends you let him guide you, Satoru grabs his keys from the valet and walks you to where his car was parked. He even had VIP parking, and your mouth dropped at the sight of his car.

He opens the driver side door and settles himself before patting his lap. Realizing the car is a two door, making a feeling of dread for on the pit of your stomach.

"What? No. I'll crush you." It slips out before you could even think what you were saying. Satoru was quick to shake his head, two strong hands gripping your thighs and pulls you forward. Settling you to straddle him as he closes the door and turns on the car, the air conditioner blasting and making goosebumps rise on your skin.

"You could suffocate me with your thighs and I'd thank you, baby." Were his words before he's swallowing your mouth again. You moaned into the kiss, and now that you were on his lap, his rock hard print of his cock was settles right against your underwear. Rocking your hips slowly, Satoru lets go, letting out a groan. Your eyes on him as your mouth a was a bit agape, breathy gasps falling out of it as you grinned your cunt on him. You knew you were wet enough that he probably had a damp spot on his pants but you didn't care. It just felt so fucking good.

His fingers pushed your dress up to the same spot you had told him last time, and he lightly pulled the lacy material of your panties, letting it snap against your hips making you jolt. Taking the opportunities to push his hips up and grind himself on you, "Satoru" You moan.

"Say my name again, baby." He says into your mouth, hands pulling your panties to the and his fingers finding your bundle of nerves with ease. The feeling making you jerk forward, your forehead pressing on his. Practically sharing the same breath as he worked on you. Maneuvering his fingers down and easing them into your cunt, a high pitched whine coming out of you as a shiver ran down your spine. His thumb working on your clit as his fingers curled inside you, pressing on the spongy spot that made you see stars.

"Jesus, Y/N, this pussy is practically crying for me." His words making your thighs tremble. His eyes on your cunt, juices gushing onto his palm as he continued working you open for him. "Look at her, she's crying out to me." You looked down, his hand working wonders on you, and you could see your juices gown down his wrist.

"F-Fuck Satoru-ah- you're gonna make me cum too fast." Pressing a kiss to your jaw, and letting out a chuckle.

"That's the whole point, pretty girl. Gotta work you up, so I can fit."

His words made your mind run with a million thoughts.

Was he being cocky or is he really that big?

Your hips jerked forward from the stimulation and the knot on your belly was impossibly tight. Your brows were pinched and your mouth wide open, filthy moans falling off your tongue and Satoru swore you were the prettiest girl in the entire world as you came on his hand.

He continued to work you through your orgasm, not letting up the pressure of the circles he was drawing with his thumb on your clit making you cry out.

Your arms hugged around his neck, practically smothering him in your tits as you rode his hand. Satoru bit your cleavage, savoring the taste of your skin and you let out a moan. "Pull the top of your dress down for me baby." You did it without even thinking, your tits spilling out and you were so thankful you didn't wear a bra today. Latching his lips on your left niple, Satoru moaned against the bud.

Satoru curled his fingers once more and put more pressure on that delicious spot inside your cunt, your vision going momentarily white as you came again. Your hair sticking to your forehead as you threw your head back. Satoru's eyes watching, drinking in the entire scene in front of him, thanking God for this a million times.

Slowly pulling his fingers out, Satoru grins up at you and brings them to his mouth. Moaning around his fingers at your taste. You felt heat come up to your cheeks at his lewd expression. "So sweet, pretty girl." You shake your head with a shy giggle, and he's quick to lean up and kiss you. Hands working under him to unbutton his pants and pull his hard cock out. Slowly running his hand up and down his girth, groaning.

You look down and your eyes widen.

He's not cocky, he is fucking huge. And it's looks so good, the first thought on your mind is that you want him in your mouth. You don't care if you can't breathe, if you gag, or cry, you just want his cock in your mouth.

You're snapped out of your gaze when Satoru is ripping open a condom packet, and your fingers take hold it. Satoru watching with an open mouth as your hands rolled the condom on him, purposely squeezing your hand around him making him rest his forehead on your tits. Lifitng yourself up a bit, and guiding him between your fold you hiss as his tip bumps into your clit. The sensation making you jolt and Satoru guides your wrist to your entrance, his mushroom tip gliding through the first ring of resistance, hugging it tightly.

"Fuck baby, pussy is just squeezing me in." He's biting all over your chest, holding himself back from just pushing himself to the hilt in one go. "So happy you didn't run away from me this time."

You're a moaning and babbling mess, the stretch of him making tears gather in the corner of your eyes and your pussy practically crying for him to just keep going. Lowering your hips little by little, you could feel him everywhere and soon enough your fully sat on his lap. His cock kissing your cervix and you felt so fucking full.

"S-So big, Satoru." You cry out, nails digging into his shoulders. Satoru eases on his assault on your tits, who are now decorated in purple marks all over.

"Too big, baby?" He cooes, kissing along your jawline.

"Move," you whine and he does, lifting his hips up into you making you whine. One hand of his already working your clit as hes fucking up into you. At a certain angle that he shifted his hips his tip bumping that spot again making you let your mouth open with an 'oh'.

Taking mental note, Satoru started fucking into that spot. Your arms now wrapped around his neck, sucking on his tongue to quiet your moans. The knot on your belly already forming quickly, from the stimulation and the feeling of him.

Satoru grunted as he felt the familiar tightness in his balls. You were squeezing him so tight, the warmth of your cunt engulfing his cock even with the condom, making him so close.

"Fuck baby, not gonna last long." He moans into your mouth. "Need you to cum for me, pretty girl."

He's mean as he fucks you, the skin of your thighs practically slamming on his lap as he thrust up to you while one of his hands pulls you down by the hip to meet his thrusts. Your tits bouncing as you moved. He was all over you, his smell, his touch, his taste and his sounds were everywhere and it was riveting.

"Sa- oh fuck- 'toru." The nickname made him clench his jaw, finally pressing a mean circle on your clit making your eyes roll back into your head. The sound of juices gushing out of you making Satoru's ears perk up, and glance down. You were squirting all over him, and holy shit that did it. Satoru's letting out a guttural moan, filling the condom up to the brim. Fucking you through his and your orgasm. Your body trembling and jolting at the overstimulating, he was practically drawing out your orgasm to be longer.

Once he started softening, he slowed down until he finally let you rest on his lap. Your vision had dark spots, your mind buzzing in euphoria. Satoru places soft wet kisses around your neck until he met your lips.

"You still with me, baby?"

You meekly nod, trying to catch your breath. He slowly pulling you up, his cock slipping out of you and setting you back. Reaching over the middle condile he pulls out some tissues and cleans you up and him in the process. Your face in the crook of his neck, still reeling from your orgasm. Once you felt a pat on your cunt from him positioning your panties back into place, your mind finally realized everything.

You're pulling yourself back to look at Satoru. You squirted on him, in his car?!

You've reached a new low Y/N. Your mind practically screams at you.

"Hi." He grins and you bite your lip, looking out of his tinted windows. There were a few people from the club walking to their cars.

"You planning on running out on me again?"

"Maybe." You tease and he rolls his eyes. Pulling your dress up over your tits and down to cover your panties, the action making you realize just how exposed you had been.

"So..." Satoru starts. "Can I get your number?"

Your brows furrowed and avoided his gaze. "Why?"

"So I can take you out on a date?"

You shook your head. That mean voice in the back of your head ridiculing you.

This is just a joke. It kept saying.

"I don't think that's a good idea." You mumbled and Satoru tilted his head in confusion. Grabbing your phone from the middle console where it had been forgotten at the start of the rendezvous, he managed to face it towards you. The device betraying you as it unlocked with your surprised face, and satoru was quick to go into the phone app. His fingers typing rather quick on the screen.

Your eyes stayed on his fingers, they looked so long. The fact that they were stuffed inside you just a while ago making your body heat up.

A text message tone rung out and you glanced at his own phone that lit up. Recognizing your number on his screen.

The look of conflict on your face made Satoru's grin drop, clearing his throat and quickly setting a cocky grin. "Or you know, If you ever wanna..." He wiggles his eyebrows up and down suggestively making you let out a soft laugh. "Call me." You nod and open the car door, slowly getting out, while Satoru watched you.

"Can I at least take you home?"

You glanced back at the club, then down at your phone 2:34 am.

"I should actually find my friends. Just to make sure they're not too drunk to drive home." He nods in understanding, getting out of his car and locking it behind him. The loss of warmth making goosebumps rise on your skin as you walked back into the club. Your body on auto-pilot as you scurried through the crowd.

Running away from Satoru, once again.

Taglist:

@bankaixx @shiftinghoe @uniquecutie-puffs @thewomans-stuff @plathsotherib

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist

[mysteryshoptls]

SR Lilia Vanrouge - Ceremonial Robes Vignette

"It's a showdown!"

[Classroom]

Lilia: Ooh, I see you've brought donuts from the Scalding Sands today, Kalim.

Kalim: You know your stuff, Lilia! It's a syrup-covered donut called awamat.

Cater: Looks tasty, but feels like it's a snack that's way sweeter than sweet.

Cater: I think I'll start off with the candy that Lilia-chan brought. Down the hatch…Mm?

Cater: [cough, gasp, sputter]! Ack, this flavor's crazy!

Lilia: Kufufu, it's licorice. One bite and you're already hooked, huh?

Cater: No, I'm saying it's bad crazy! It's salty, and tastes like rubber…

Lilia: Does it? I actually quite like it. …Nom. …Hmhm, yep, it's definitely tasty.

Kalim: How can you eat it all happy like that～? I can't with this, either. It doesn't even smell like it's edible.

Lilia: That's a shame, all I wanted was to share my favorite snacks with my clubmates.

Cater: Oh, right. Speaking of club stuff, what're we gonna do to try to pull in new members this year at the club showcase?

Kalim/Lilia: …?

Cater: Hey, come on! We met up today specifically to talk about what we were gonna do for that!

Lilia: And uh, what club were we again?

Cater: You don't even remember that!? We're the Pop Music Club!

Lilia: Oh right, I remember now. I can't help forgetting 'cause even when we meet up for our club like this, we're usually just lazing about anyway.

Kalim: Yeah, I feel like we haven't really played much music since I joined the club, either.

Cater: Seee, that's why the Headmage was on our case～

Cater: He said that since there's only three of us and we don't really do dedicated club activities, if we don't get more members this year, our club'll be disbanded!

Cater: That's why we absolutely need to get more folks to join us at the club showcase! Especially since it's basically impossible to get any of the older students to drop their clubs and join us, anyway.

Lilia: Plus, it feels like the students here aren't really geared towards joining a band, either.

Cater: Yeaaaaah～ Fights would break out even before we can even set up a live performance.

Lilia: Every time someone opens their mouth, it's just "our musical tastes are just different" and they leave. None of them are team players.

Kalim: And then in the end, it's just us left over.

Cater: Just us three easy-breezy boys～

Cater: 'Sides, it was Lilia-chan's performance from last year's club showcase that was the problem.

Cater: It totally threw everyone off when you just went all screamo and smashed your guitar! We only got Kalim-kun out of all the possible newbies 'cause of that.

Lilia: Nonsense. That scream is my specialty.

Lilia: Thrash metal isn't thrash metal without all my guitar strings snapping.

Cater: There's no way I can keep up with something as hardcore and heavy as that. Doesn't really feel like many people'd like it, either.

Kalim: I totally thought your performance was pretty cool, Lilia! I'd never seen anything like that.

Kalim: It really surprised me when you just leaped off the stage into the audience, too! Ahaha!

Lilia: Oh yes, the best part of a live performance is the stage dive.

Lilia: I was just as surprised that I fell straight to the floor because no one tried to catch me. Kheehee

Cater: 'K, we really gotta stop with goin' down memory lane now. Keep this up and we're really gonna lose our club, y'know?

Cater: I don't wanna lose our precious space to hang after classes. There's no way I'd even consider joining an athletic club～

Lilia: I hear you, I hear you. Then, I guess we should hunker down and prepare a band performance for the club orientation showcase.

Lilia: So, if we're putting together a three-piece band, who should be in what position?

Kalim: Well, obviously…

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: I'D BE ON MAIN VOCALS!

Cater: No way, c'mon, we can't all be vying for the vocalist spot!

Lilia: Well, we may be "easy-breezy boys" as you say, but in the end, we're still Night Raven College boys.

Lilia: Well, if we're picking a vocalist, it only makes sense that whoever can sing best takes the spot.

Kalim: Well, then that's gotta be me! Whenever I sing, I got Jamil, my parents and my siblings all sayin' I'm amazing!

Cater: Ehhh～ Don't think we can really go off of what your family and close friends say, can we?

Cater: But then there's me. Whenever I go sing karaoke with someone, it's a mad party!

Lilia: Wait a moment, you two. I've already proven that I can sing at last year's club orientation showcase.

Cater: No way, I already told you that your zombie-like shouting's only gonna scare away any potential newbies!

Lilia: Looks like we're at a stalemate…

Lilia: Well, guess there's no other choice… It's a showdown for that prized vocalist spot!

Kalim/Cater: Eh!?

[Classroom]

Kalim: So, what're we doin' to win the vocalist spot?

Cater: I'm gonna pass if it's a physical fight!

Lilia: Well, since we're looking for the best voice, it should be sufficient enough to do a singing competition using a karaoke app to score us.

Lilia: We each sing once. And we should each pick out a song we're good at singing.

Cater: Ok, we just gotta pick a song we know front to back, huh! Cool, so let's get this shindig started～♪

Kalim: You already decide what you're singing, Cater?

Cater: Yup, I'm thinking of doing the new song my favorite band just released this week. It's perfectly in my range 'n all.

Cater: …Oh, wait. It looks like it's not in the karaoke app yet, though.

Lilia: Guess you need to look for another song. What about you, Kalim?

Kalim: Mmm～ I thought about it, and…

Kalim: I'm way better at dancing than singing, y'know. Can I do that instead?

Cater: No, absolutely not! That's not what we're looking for at all!

Lilia: Kheeheehee, you're a silly lad, as always. Well, you still have time to pick out a song after I've finished singing.

Lilia: I'll start up the karaoke app, and… Hm. Would a lullaby from Briar Valley be considered a folk song?

Cater: A lullaby!? That's totally on the other side of the music spectrum from your usual metal music!!

Lilia: Lullabies are my specialty! I can instantly send a crying babe back into dreamland.

Cater: Wow. I wasn't expecting that.

Lilia: Ehehe. The secret is that I ad-lib some screaming shouts as I sing it.

Cater: But it's a lullaby!?

Cater: You're saying there's a baby out there who can listen to your screamo and actually sleep!? You sure they didn't just pass out!?

Lilia: Rude. He was sleeping away so peacefully. Ahh, how nostalgic.

Kalim: Oh, do you have much younger siblings too, Lilia?

Lilia: Well, no, he wasn't a sibling… But I did live with a babe for a while.

Kalim: I'm always trying to sing them lullabies to get them to sleep, but they never do. You'll have to show me your tricks later!

Lilia: Sure thing. How about I show you now… Hm? Looks like Briar Valley lullabies aren't in this app either.

Cater: Aw, man～ Guess it's just a little too specific, huh?

Lilia: So, neither me nor Cater can sing what we want. Kalim would rather dance…

Lilia: Well, some competition this turned out to be. Why don't we just do rock-paper-scissors to decide, then?

Lilia: It only makes sense that he who is the luckiest should shoulder the fate of our band's future.

Cater: That was out of left field...

Kalim: Well, why not? It's easy and we'll be done in a flash.

Cater: Fine… I guess leaving it up to something random like this is more our style anyway.

Lilia: Okay, here we go. Rock, paper, scissors…

Kalim/Cater/Lilia: Go!

Lilia: Yaay～ I win! I get to do the vocals!

Kalim: Maaan～ You're so lucky, Lilia.

Cater: Don't smash up the guitar this year, mmkay～?

Lilia: Yeh! …But after all that, I think the bass or drums would suit me better after all.

Cater: Then what was with that celebrating just now!?

Lilia: I just like snatch the win from those who wanted it, I guess.

Cater: If you need to be the center of attention like that, then maybe the singing guitarist position really does suit you after all?

Lilia: You don't get it, huh. Based on my research, the leader of the band is most often the bassist or the drummer.

Lilia: Also, they got this quiet and mature vibe, which also seems cool to me.

Lilia: You can be the main vocals, Cater, since you'd probably know all the popular songs right now.

Cater: Yaay～ Thanks, Lilia-chan! Then I'll be singing and on guitar! Kalim, what about you?

Kalim: If I'm not the lead vocalist? I only really know the instruments we got back home in the Scalding sands. I'm pretty good at the darbuka.

Cater: What's a darbuka? That's the first time I've ever heard that name.

Lilia: It's a type of drum that makes an exotic sound. I saw it once a long time ago when I visited the Scalding Sands.

Cater: I hate to be that guy, but aren't we gonna stray from the standard three-piece band if we use more specialized instruments…?

Lilia: Well, if you're good at percussion, then you should be on drums! I'll teach you how to play it.

Kalim: Thanks, Lilia! I can't wait to play a new instrument!

Lilia: So that means I'm the bassist and the leader of the band!

Cater: You're really hung up on being the leader, huh～ Okay then, Leader. What should we wear, then?

Lilia: Hm… Good question. Whatever it is, it should be flashy and cool.

Kalim: We can just special order some super fancy costumes! What if we sew on some gems to give them some serious sparkle?

Cater: Nice idea～♪ But there's no way that's in our budget…

Lilia: Yes, unfortunately, we're a small club that's in danger of being disbanded. Probably the only thing we can afford with what little we have is instrument upkeep.

Kalim: So, what, we have to do it with whatever we already own…?

Cater: Our dorm uniforms look cool… But they all clash～

Lilia: What outfit do all of us own that match despite being from different dorms… That's also cool… Hmmm…

Lilia: Oh yeah! What about our ceremonial robes!?

Cater: Lilia-chan, great idea!

Kalim: If you guys are good with it, so am I!

Lilia: Alright, now that we've figured out our costume, we just gotta practice every day until the club orientation!

Kalim/Cater: Yeah!!

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Lilia: …Is something that happened once.

Silver: I see, so that's why you weren't on guitar and vocals this year…

Sebek: I found your professional level bass playing to be an unforgettable sight to witness, Lilia-sama!!!!!

Lilia: And rightly so, of course. Kheeheehee.

Requested by @olivebranch311.

[chainsawmascara]

Figuring out where every companion fits in my Suddenly A Thing art school au doodle world is. Going to be interesting.

God's favorite princess who started it all is in general fine arts. She loves charcoal, painting feels like a necessary evil but it's secretly what she's always wanted to do.

Lae'zel is clearly in metalworking/sculpture.

Astarion is in textiles, specifically embroidering and fashion design/history. He has an entire brand built in his head. He works at an upscale fashion store part time. He judges EVERYONE.

Wyll???? Wyll's studying art history and debating going into curation. He's a trust fund kid and his father is deeply disappointed THIS is what he's doing with his college fund. He spends free time in the dark room. Darkroom photography has no place in the world these days, but he loves the classics and waxes poetic about 35mm film and its versatility - he does some oil painting over certain photos for flourish. It's phenomenal. He doesn't think it's that great. Everyone disagrees.

Gale is. Gale is the english major from the sister university who decided a double major is a good idea (it isn't, he is suffering) and hurled himself into abstract/surrealism. (It works very well in his favor when tara steps in his paint and walks on the canvas. He had a three hour anxiety attack and decided he did it on PURPOSE.

(Part of me wants to slam him into dark room photography and i will not elaborate. Maybe he sneaks in to hang out with wyll. He cannot be good at everything but he NEEDS TO BE GOOD AT EVERYTHING. He's a recurring subject of wyll's work.)

Where the FUCK do i put karlach. She's on a roller derby team outside of school. But what does she DO. She's in there somewhere but WHAT DEPARTMENT.

Dammon shares classes with Lae'zel bc that's The Most Obvious Thing. He's a natural.

Isobel? Pottery. Aylin doesn't go here. She's just The Girlfriend also on the roller derby team and hangs around.

Rolan is obviously into impressionism. He's the manet of the school, trying every artist's style in a desperate attempt to find his own despite cal and lia both knowing he HAS his own style and it's GORGEOUS but he just can't see it himself.

Alfira is also in the textile department. Astarion hates everything she makes. She plays music at local clubs on the weekends. Lakrissa is her bartender girlfriend who studies sequential art.

I need to keep this going, I'm on to something here.

But where the FUCK do i put KARLACH.

Edit: 9 fingers is the drug dealer. I went to art school, i promise you there are so many gatherings based solely around that, she'd be there constantly. Jaheira and Halsin are figure study models. Jaheira probably has her hand somewhere else in the school, she'd definitely have something to do with installation pieces, I'll get there let me cook on that one. Minsc is. Fuck. I need to figure that out. We're GOING SOMEWHERE HERE, WE'RE MAKING THIS HAPPEN.

Someone is in the jewelry department it's someone it's SOMEONE maybe lae'zel dips into it bc metal casting NO IT'S MINTHARA. MINTHARA. YES. I WILL JUSTIFY THIS WHEN IT'S NOT 2AM BUT TRUST ME IT'S MINTHARA. Intricate wire wrapping with gem stones she gets from 9 fingers, she has 5000 tools for it and no one realizes how violent whitesmithing tools are but I've BEEN THERE TRUST ME and the wire wrapping gives big spiderweb vibes, it's perfect, i love it, yes, she's in cahoots with astarion on a future design house and the bickering is CONSTANT.

[ninguitar]

　　sugar talking ──── your eyes ꣑꣒ only .

LOWKEY.　◦　❛ in which a concert you were tantalized by your friends into attending led to a one-night hook-up with band member, yu "karina" jimin, who was coincidentally a classmate, too. though incredulous and foolish, in karina's eyes, you were way too good to have you slipping through her fingers, but even so, she couldn't just act on it, leaving the two of you in an awkward predicament, keeping the feelings amidst lowkey. ❜

BACK. # NEXT PROFILES. #　

00.　　losers (stuco.)

y/n ; stuco vice pres. swears she'll post consistently every wednesday, yet she is almost always too lazy to edit her videos. is also on the badminton club for fun (also mainly because of keeho and ricky). is manon's partner-in-crime. somehow, she manages to squeeze in studying into her schedule. argues with keeho about who's the n1 sza fan.

yoon keeho ; stuco secretary. vlogs for fun ^_^ argues with y/n about being the self-proclaimed n1 sza fan and will never relent. plays badminton and is probably the most advanced out of everybody—he could even play professionally. is probably the most charismatic out of the group, along with manon. somehow knows all the drama in snhs?? his source: nobody knows.

manon bannerman ; stuco pres. she does almost everything for college apps. most charismatic in the group and is most approachable. ranked #1 in almost every subject and overall. got dragged into badminton club yet is barely hanging on. y/n's partner in crime. similar to keeho, she vlogs for fun and is usually unserious in her videos. loves, LOVES thrifting with megan, y/n, & chaewon.

megan skiendiel ; stuco pr officer. got dragged into being a part of stuco by manon and somehow got elected. likes to tease y/n about everything and anything she could and tag-teams y/n with manon. sweetest girl snhs knows. designated driver for stuco along with zhanghao. despite her long schedule, megan somehow attends most of snhs' party with ricky and kai.

shen "ricky" quanrui ; stuco treasury. keeho's and y/n's main target for teasing. known for his spectacular fashion taste all throughout snhs. singlehandely, his presence is what attracts more students to stuco events. most often seen with chaewon and zhanghao—the three of them always up to some chaos. loves, and i mean, LOVES exploring music genre, his most listened genre being r&b soul.

kim chaewon ; stuco senator. is somehow doing extraordinary well in her classes despite her desperate efforts in getting a tutor. is one of the most chaotic members in stuco, always up to something with either ricky or zhanghao. her dog is as much as a menace as she is. is practically worse than y/n at relationships—which is shown with her current "situationship" that has left her in shambles.

zhang hao ; stuco historian. somehow started getting called "zhanghao" despite his name being just hao, but nonetheless, he didn't pay much mind to it. tries to keep ricky's and chaewon's antics in check, though, often finds himself amused by them. has led competitions with manon academically, though there's no tension nor bad blood, just pure playful competition.

huening kamal kai ; stuco chairperson. makes music on the side after gaining followers from posting covers, and now posts his own songs. works hand-in-hand with kang taehyun and choi yeonjun. i fear he's the best advice giver in the group besides keeho and megan. likes to fool around at times, but usually is a no-nonsense person to keep everything in order.

A/N.　◦　hii, tysm for all the support so far for those who have tuned in !!! also, i js wanted to apologize for the long wait; i'm preoccupied with school work😭.

taglist. ୨ৎ @yeetaberry127 @yoontoonwhs @1luvkarina @sed7ction @stareaa @cceanvvaves (send an ask, or dm if you want to be tagged !! )

[alphabetboyluvr]

throttle │ jjk - one

this fic is my baby and has just hit 400k over on wp, so I'm sharing her here too he he

one / two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - jungkook is blonde <3, he's also a bit of an asshole. dangerous driving, alcohol consumption, nothing major, we're setting scenes, building worlds just to ruin them woohoo. mentions of violence, gang dynamics. both the oc and jk swear like sailors.

word count - 17.8k

minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist

The bell above the gas station door always chimes just a little bit louder than is really necessary. 

In fact, the shrill clang of metal is so intrusive, that it feels borderline rude every single time a customer swings the door open. It's only natural for you to ignore it now, affronted by the way it distracts your focus.

It's not like you're ever doing anything important. Just flicking through the day's newspapers or counting stock. 

Although, come to think of it, you're never actually counting stock, either. You leave that job for Jieun, because you know she's a stickler for the rules, and likes feeling accomplished after her shifts are finished.

You're not really sure how much accomplishment can be derived from a part-time job at a GS25 attached to a gas station forecourt, but she seems to enjoy it.

This job really isn't for you - but it's better than following your father into local politics, and nepotism is all you really have going for you, considering you flunked the college entrance exam. An act of rebellion, for the corruption scandal your father had chosen to embroil himself in during your senior year, you had refused to write a single word on the paper. 

You thought it would embarrass him - and it did. Just at your expense.

And so, while it may not be your childhood dream of being a pop star, or a vet, or anything of any significance, ringing up bills at the gas station is how you're able to pay your own bills. It'll do for now.

You ignore the chime of the bell as the door to the service station opens once more. 

It's the start of the year, and the breeze is bitter whenever it rushes in. This time, the wind is accompanied by a guy in his mid-thirties. Dark slacks, burgundy jumper. His off-brand sliders scuff across the floor as he traipses round to the refrigerator, bottle clinking as he picks up a little soju and some beer for his evening. It's not an uncommon occurrence for men his age.

You hypothesise his next move. To the snack section to pick up something for his kids? Maybe straight to the kiosk to pay for his fuel? You check the screen, and notice he's barely added enough gas to cover the minimum charge. 

A scornful mutter of 'priorities' laces your lips, as you see him put back the soju and reach for the whisky instead.

Still, you can't blame him. It's fucking freezing. A little whisky to warm him up will probably be as cost-effective as getting a new boiler that actually works.

It's all just an assumption of course. 

You don't know this man, and you don't have a clue if his boiler works or not - but thinking about the lives of the people you meet for split fractions of time always helps to make your shift go quicker. 

He comes to the counter, pays, and leaves. 

You wonder if he's made up a life for you in his head, too.

Probably not. He probably already has an actual life to distract him from his thoughts. Maybe that's what the whisky is for.

And there you go again; hypothesising. Thinking. Putting your assumptions onto strangers.

The next customer is a girl around your age, wearing a fluffy pink coat and hoops big enough to be worn as bangles. She arrives on foot, pushing the swing door open without much care for excessive force. 

You decide, all rather quickly, that she must work at the gentlemen's club around the corner from the gas station. She's buying a coffee, iced, and nothing else. 

It's when she's at the kiosk that you realise your make-believe life for her is terribly inaccurate. She fumbles with her purse, dropping her staff I.D. card.

She's a nurse. Paediatric nurse, to be specific. The coffee she's picked up isn't for a boost before a shift on the poles, but to keep her going through a night on the wards.

And yet despite how your assumptions are so often so wrong, you still consider yourself to be a good judge of character.

It's a flaw, the way you always seem to think you can read people; think you can look at their demeanour, their clothes, and assume their financial status, what they do after the sun sets, and if they're going home to an empty house or not.

Your thoughts become lore. The gas station you work in is the thick leather cover that protects your make-believe world from outsiders.

When the bell chimes again, you don't look up. 

It's a habit. You don't want to make eye contact. It breaks the illusion that these people are just characters in your head.

Instead, you glance up to the curved mirror in the far corner of the shop. It acts as a second pair of eyes, and is ignored by pretty much all of the customers - except for the teenage girls who like to take selfies in it.

Tall, you assess when you finally find the new customer in the mirror. Broad. 

His posture a little sloped, but all things considered, he carries himself well. He heads for the refrigerators, just like every man above the age of 19 seems to do on a Friday night. There's that clink again, and you guess he's going for soju. He's young, so it seems apt. Whatever's cheapest seems to be the drink of choice for the guys your age, and you can't blame them.

You watch, cautious to not catch his gaze, as he heads to the food fridge. 

Gimbap, you guess. Tuna, not chicken. One roll, not two. 

He pulls out his phone to check a notification, and you notice just how hard his gaze is. There's a ridge between his brows, and a couple silver ballbearings accenting the brow farthest from you. Whatever he's reading on his phone, he doesn't like.

Girlfriend, you guess again. No. An ex. No, no. A FWB turned far-too-clingy. 

He looks like the type to be after something a little casual. 

The tattoos on his hands are nothing special - you've seen hands like his in countless 'sneaky' Instagram stories; a hand on the thigh, holding a bag. Y'know, the ones. The kind of shit girls post with the caption 'private, not secret' - but you both know there's nothing really 'private' about it. The owner of the hands will be blocked within a week or two, once the girl realises he's nothing special, just like his hands.

You hear him mutter beneath his breath. You can't quite make it out, but the way he shakes his head lets you know that it was most likely a curse. He locks his phone, tucks it into the back pocket of his jeans, and carries on looking for something to eat. 

You watch as his gaze lifts and falls.

That's it, you urge silently. Go for the gimbap.

You want to be proven right. 

He's already got a green bottle tucked into the pocket of his black bomber jacket, so you know you've got his choice of drink correct. You're assuming that your guess about his phone is correct, too, so you only need one more right to get a full house.

As he looks across the snacks - gimbap, vacuum-sealed meats, cheese, strawberry sandwiches and enough microwavable food to feed an orphanage - he pushes his hair out of his face. The way it falls back down almost instantly makes you smile. 

He needs a haircut - but you bet that his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover) loves it, so he keeps it long for her satisfaction. It's bleached; pale as the sticky rice balls he's eyeing up, with dark roots that let you know he's trouble. No boy with hair like that has ever been good news. Especially not the ones who look like him.

Or so you guess look like him. He's wearing a mask. It's black, to match his outfit, cinched at the nose, hooked around ears that are studded up the sides. He must have, what? Five? Six? Little square studs in there. Airport security must be a nightmare.

You smile to yourself as he reaches for gimbap. One roll, not two. Tuna, not chicken. Bingo.

"Pump six," he says as he approaches the counter. You already know. It's been waiting on the screen since he walked in. There's no one else in the forecourt. "And these."

He tosses down the gimbap, and pulls the soju from his pocket, an old receipt coming with it. Kang's Auto Repairs it reads, but he stuffs it back into his pocket before you can read anything else.

"We're cheaper," you note, not really caring for revealing just how incredibly nosey you are. There's a perspex screen between you, which always makes you feel protected - from people, their judgements and whatever other airborne diseases they might be carrying. From the looks of him, the only diseases he'll be carrying are the ones found beneath the sheets. He's too well-built to be suffering from any ailments - but equally, too well built to not to be fucking about. "Cheaper than Kang's, I mean. He'll charge you an arm and a leg for the honour of his service."

"Hmm?" He raises a brow, obviously just wanting to pay for his shit and go. "Thanks, but I like Kang's. Been going there for years."

You hold back a laugh. He's no older than you. 24? 25? Yet he's talking like he's been loyal to that over-priced, under-qualified garage for decades. The neighbourhood is littered with garages, scrap part dealers and gas stations, and yet Kang's is the main competitor for your place. It's not even in this neighbourhood - it's across the river, which is a different district entirely, but the proximity is close enough. Your boss will never miss an opportunity to shit talk Old Man Kang and his 'con-artist' car mechanics. He doesn't think any of them are actually trained.

"Yeah, well," you smile, scanning his items, pretending there's a fault with the barcode on his gimbap just to be a little annoying. "Our guy, Yoongi, he's a specialist with those." You nod out of the window and towards the car by pump six. It's red; a little bit brash, but a classic. "Pony, right? Hyundai? '80?"

"Pony," he nods, tone neutral but eyes a little narrow. Doesn't know why, but he didn't expect you to know - and then he remembers you work at a garage. Of course you know. Got the year wrong, though."It's an '83. A mark two. I'll keep the suggestion in mind," he adds, though you both know he's lying. "How much do I owe you?"

He doesn't really listen as you list off the figure. Just hands you his card, hums when you ask for his signature - sign of a big spender, must be a full tank - and says little else. His phone buzzes on the counter as he stuffs his purchases back into his pockets, and you glance down - again, not caring for the discretion of your nosey tendencies.

KNJ. (1)   New Message.

Sneaky bastard, you think. How rude of him not to have his message previews displayed.

You're not sure if he caught you looking, but he snaps his phone up regardless and shoves it into his back pocket.

"Cheers," he nods, before he sets off into the night. Car unlocked, he slides into the driver's seat and empties his pockets onto the passengers' side. You watch on for a moment, before there's a rattle of his exhaust pipe, engine roaring into action - and like that, he's gone. You assume he's not on his way to his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). Wouldn't have bought tuna if he was. Then again, he's a guy. You don't expect him to care about such social cues.

Maybe he's just left hers. His neck did seem a little red, but then again, it's cold. Minus 3. The river you walk across to get to work is frozen over, and has been for about two weeks now. You've got a heat pack stuffed in either pocket of your work jacket. 

Well, Yoongi's work jacket. It's his name stitched into the breast pocket - but it's bigger than yours, so you can fit a few more layers beneath it. If the boss saw you in it, he'd have a bitch fit for 'not following company protocols,' and for not caring about the 'company brand image'. Which is true. You're neither following protocols, nor do you care about the company nor its brand image. 

It's just gone nine on a Friday night, though, and the boss clocked out a few hours ago with a bottle of makgeolli and the day's newspaper under his arm. He's not gonna see. And if he does, what's he gonna do? Fire you? Good luck to him finding anyone else who wants to spend their winter nights freezing half-to-death in this shit hole of a gas station.

By the time midnight hits, you've been yawning for at least an hour. Keeping yourself warm is a laboursome task.

"You're gonna catch a cold," Yoongi acknowledges as he enters the shop through the back entrance. He's still wrapped up in a calf-length puffa jacket, all warm and cosy. He heads out past the kiosks as normal, up to the fridges. Bagged americano and a cup of ice. You know his score - and you're proven right. "Tell me why I agreed to cover your night shift, again?" he says with a slight shiver as he scans through his own items.

Though he's typically out fixing up cars behind the service station, he helps you out at the kiosk too. Normally just when there are staff shortages - which in all fairness, occur more frequently than you'd expect.

"'Cause you love me," you sing, knowing that it's entirely plausible. 

Yoongi - stone-cold, stoic, as emotionally inept as you'd expect a bachelor verging on his 30s to be - could very much be in love with you. It's not like he really speaks to many other women, and he's never given you a reason to believe he's not interested. 

But he does give you his jacket, cuts you slack on the days you feel like shit, and covers the shifts you don't want to work without asking any questions. Sometimes he sneaks you the food that was meant to be tossed in the bin overnight, and other times he makes sure there's a peach tea waiting for you when you clock in.

"It's 'cause I love money," he corrects, as if the extra 30,000 won he'll make from the last three hours of your shift is really an incentive. He's already spent 3,000 on his coffee. "Now scram. Get yourself home. Fucking freezing tonight. Want me to call you a cab?"

That'll be an extra 7,000 to his evenings' expenses. You really don't think he does love the money. At least not enough for it to be a reasonable excuse.

"It's good," you shake your head. "You know I'm not far away."

He nods, not really fighting your choices. It's not like you ever accept his offer anyway. He learned quite a long time ago that if you want something done, you'll do it for yourself.

Y'see, you're not the only one who watches.

Yoongi watches you too, as you tap through on the screen to log yourself out and cash up the till. 

You've only run 260,000 through your till in the last four hours, barely enough to make ends meet for the gas station. No wonder the place hasn't had any upgrades - with the exception of tills and a new fridge every now and again - since the mid-noughties. The signs are rusting, and Yoongi still has to change the fuel prices by hand every morning.

On the rare shifts you work together, you like to make assumptions together. You guess what people are gonna buy, hypothesise where they're going, who they're going with. When you hear bottles clink, you guess which flavour soju they're going for, as if you don't only have 4 flavours stocked. During the summer, you like to guess who's filling up their tanks to go to the coast.

The door chimes as a new customer walks in, and Yoongi knocks his head back. "Go on, out. I'll cash your till up. It's all good."

You ask if he's sure, to which he smiles and tells you to leave again - so you do. Not without thanking him, and fluttering your lashes a little. Maybe it is your fault, just a little, that Yoongi might be a tiny bit in love with you. 

"I owe you the world!" You squeal as you skip out the door. He laughs, but says nothing. He just wants you home and safe as quickly as possible.

Yoongi doesn't mind covering your shifts, not this late at night. He knows this area doesn't have the best reputation, and despite your sharp tongue, he knows that you'd stand absolutely no chance if someone decided that it seemed like a good place to commit a felony or two. 

It's a debate you've had a few times before. You know he's right, but you fight against him regardless. It always makes him smile, and only adds to your theory that he might be a little bit in love with you.

You forget the quiet thrum in your chest as soon as the cold air hits you. Yoongi traded his jacket with you before you left; him now in his work uniform, and you in his thick puffa which reaches down to your ankles. Hands stuffed into his pockets, your shoulders hunch as you walk, a mask covering your face just to keep the heat in. Your scarf is wrapped around you so tightly that you might just suffocate, but it would be worth it, you think. You hate this time of year. So fucking cold, and for what?

The bridge lights are off by the time you reach it, illuminated only by a couple of cars. They're sat up towards the far end, facing you, and you sigh. Every fucking weekend.

It's not always the same cars, but quite often it is - or some variation of the same group, at least. They sit, waiting for traffic to die down and the lights to cut off, before turning the bridge into their own little speedway.

You should have guessed from the sound of that asshole's exhaust earlier that evening that he'd be one of them. 

The fact he goes to Kang's, too. 

It's obvious, when you think about it now. 

Guys his age never fill up their tanks - but he did. Filled it up just to spit it all out again, painting the road in iridescent speckles of gas.

You can see the Pony. It's the car farthest away from you, next to a black SsangYong. 

You can't make out the model of the SsangYong, but it looks fast. It's lowered, windows tinted, exhaust tampered with, just to create an almighty roar - which screams 'I have a tiny cock'. 

At least with the Pony, you can tell that the sound being delivered comes from his engine. Credit where it's due, and all that. He could still very much have a tiny cock, but at least he's better at hiding it.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you hug into yourself to preserve heat. The lights of the cars make you a little self-conscious, aware that you're the only thing in sight that's disturbing their peace. There's ice on the road, but you pay it no notice, knowing that there's no point in worrying about one of the cars swerving off-road as they inevitably shoot past you. 

If it happens, it happens.

The SsangYong is loud. Obnoxiously, so. You can hear pressure being put down and released on the gas pedal, clutch raised. He's teasing you. Warning you. Hurry up. 

Next to it, the Pony hums. He doesn't seem interested in taunting you as if you could fight a two-tonne vehicle as it hurtles towards you. That, or he doesn't want to waste his gas. Lord knows he'll be wasting enough of it tonight as it is.

"Try me, fucker," you mumble under your breath, eyes trained on the black car. You can't make out its driver, nor do you really care. 

It's at this point you notice a guy on the opposite side of the road. 

He flashes the torch of his phone, once, twice. The Pony kicks into gear now, too, revving to rival the SsangYong. You're halfway across the bridge, wishing they could have just waited, like, one more minute. But whatever. Assholes will be assholes.

The torch guy is out of your line of vision by the time you hear tyres screech against the ice-cold road, rubber-burning regardless. The Ssangyong bolts, fumes from the exhaust fogging in the air behind it. You expect the Pony to do the same.

It takes you half a second to realise it's stagnated, and another half to realise that things aren't going to plan for Mr Gimbap.

There's a thud from the back wheels as they lock and release, causing the wheels to spin out. You've seen enough wheel spins now to know one, and as the Pony lurches forward, you know that's exactly what it is - but you also know the road is icy. 

The fun of a wheel spin, or so Yoongi likes to tell you, is that brief moment of lost control. He likes to do it whenever he gives you a lift home, because he finds the way you freak out funny - but he's always in command of his vehicle. He's never done it with you in the car during the winter. He knows better. Doesn't actually want to lose control.

At least, not like the dude in the driver's seat of the Pony currently is. 

The back kicks out, sending him swerving. The front wheels are a fucking mess, his hands twisting the wheel in an attempt to rectify his fuck up. It's fruitless. He's off the clutch, the wheels aren't spinning, but he's already on the ice, and he's hurtling towards you.

You're aware you should run, but like the river, you're stuck. Frozen in place. 

Maybe you should have accepted Yoongi's offer of a taxi. RIP.

There's another biting screech as you're doused in headlights, and you're pretty sure that this is what people mean when they say you see the light before you die. Fucking blinding. No way those lamps are regulation approved.

It's as you're bracing yourself for the inevitable end (and thinking about how embarrassing it's going to be when your family is tasked with clearing out your apartment after your demise - you haven't cleaned for weeks, laundry has been sat in the washer for two days, and there's a pizza box that you don't dare look in sitting next to the bin) that miracle seems to strike.

The Pony hits an uniced patch just in time for the driver to slam on his breaks. Handbrake, by the sound of it, but you're not sure. Not really sure of anything. Your heart is beating in your throat.

Steam is coming from the heat of the tyres, but the air around you is frozen, and so are you. You're not sure if it's from the cold or from the shock. A bit of both probably. You don't shake out of it until the driver's door pops open.

"The fuck are you doing?" He shouts. His mask is off now, not like it had been in the store. Light glimmers off yet more metal stuck in face, this time a ring around his plump bottom lip. His nose, though well proportioned, is blushed. "I could have fucking hit you!"

"Uh, yeah?" You almost laugh, too stunned to compute the fact that he was shouting at you. "Yeah, you could have fucking hit me, you asshole-"

"The fuck are you doing on the bridge? This late? Wearing all fucking black? I know you work around here, so I know you know what this place is used for-"

"Yeah, it's a bridge," you deadpan. It's notorious for racing, but who cares? It's not like you're in the wrong here. He's the one breaking laws. You're just trying to go home. "It's used to cross rivers. So, yanno, people working night shifts can walk home without rowing a fucking boat. Pretty neat actually, invented by the Greeks."

"Don't be smart," he scolds. "You saw us gearing up, you knew what was about to ha-"

"I'm sorry," you really are laughing now. "Are you telling me that I'm in the wrong? You? The asshole who's racing his shitty car on an icy fucking bridge? The asshole who can't control his aforementioned shitty car-"

"Can control it," he snaps. "If I couldn't, you'd be fucking dead."

"Oh, well thank you very much! How kind of you to not kill me as a result of your reckless driving. No, really. I appreciate it so much. How ever can I repay you?"

"You know what?" He calls after you when you begin to walk away. As far as you're concerned, the conversion is done. "Next time, I will just hit you."

"Be my fucking guest!" You shout back, holding your middle finger up to wave goodbye. "Stick to Kang's next time, you pretentious, self-absorbed cunt."

"Gladly."

"Oh, and by the way," you begin to say in a sickly sweet tone, which you just know is going to piss him off. You turn to find him standing, facing the bridge wall, looking at the river that's illuminated only by the headlamps of his car, like two little moons. The real one is hidden by clouds. "You'll have better control if you release the clutch a little slower. Wheelspin like that? Yeah, someone needs to practise their clutch control."

He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just flares his nostrils and grates his jaw. He knows you're right. Knows he missed the mark - but he'd been distracted when he noticed you on the bridge. You threw him off his game.

Equally, you know he's a good driver. The way he gained control of his car on the ice was borderline expert. Impressive. You won't go as far to say life-saving, because if it wasn't for his driving in the first place, your life wouldn't have needed any God Damn saving.

You walk backwards for a step or two, just to gloat in the knowledge you've gotten the last word. He glares at you, but stays silent. Victory.

"Oi, Kook. The fuck was that about?" A distant voice yells. The SsangYong driver, you assume.

"Nothin'," he yells back. His eyes are still on you, watching as you hunch a little, folding your arms over your chest. You must be freezing, he thinks. Stupid, too. The area is littered with taxis on Friday nights. Why anyone would choose to walk is beyond him. He casts you one final stare, his chest heaving from the adrenaline, before he turns away from you. "Stupid bitch almost got herself killed. Starting line. Let's go again."

────────────

You don't mention your near-death experience to Yoongi when you see him at work the following Monday. You know he'll just worry, and then he'll really start insisting on ordering cabs for you.

Worse yet, you think he might just order them to arrive when your shift finishes, and then you'll have to take them. No point in making mountains out of molehills.

Customers are always steady on Mondays; people fuelling up for the working week, replenishing stocks wasted on the weekends.

By the time it hits four, school kids are piling in. They're picking up snacks, something to fuel them between mandatory classes and the additional ones they've picked up at hagwons. Poor suckers, you always think.

It's been years since you did the same grind, and you still don't fully understand just why you worked yourself to the bone, only to end up working in a fucking service station. 

It had never been the dream. Still isn't - but it beats being hired on account of nepotism, thanks to a father with an unlawful influence in the city. 

Your family name - which you don't go by, these days - is on the side of buildings, in the list of hospital beneficiaries, even on the local soccer team's fucking shirts. You're cursed with it; no identity of your own. Even when did try to get a job without the backing of your family, people still knew. Your face has been at God knows how many press junkets, playing the role of the Mayor's darling daughter.

All bullshit, of course.

Your father is just as good at saving face as he is at making investments. Turns out there really is nothing money can't buy; support for a mayoral campaign, the silence of a nanny - of whom he started fucking when you were still in middle school - and enough pearls to keep your mother happy after she found out.

Cars, houses, material goods? You'd wanted for nothing as a kid.

Privilege. It's a funny little thing. You had the world, and yet none of it was yours. Not really. And so, as soon as you were of legal age, you were out of the family home, trying to find some concrete meaning for your life.

All you'd found so far was the harrowing knowledge that your father's mayoral tenure had been hell for those without the privileges you'd been raised with, and therefore you'd distanced yourself so far from your family that you weren't even sure they'd recognise you, anymore.

"You good?" Yoongi asks, around about the time the clock hits five. He's by the back entrance, wiping his oil-covered hands on an old rag. "Just finishing up."

"Good," you nod in response to his question. You give him a fond smile to let him know that the perplexed expression he'd caught on your face was nothing to be worried about, and then you ask him his plans for the evening.

There are only a few more hours left on the clock for you. It's a mid-shift, someone else coming in to work the night rotation. You've never liked these shifts - the highest influx of customers, but by far the least interesting interactions.

They come and go so quickly that it's hard to make up a fake life for them, before they're replaced by the next sullen face, wanting to get in and out as quickly as possible.

"Gimmie a call if you need a lift," Yoongi calls over as he gets his jacket to leave. Off comes his work one, tossed over to you, replaced with the black puffa you returned that morning.

"Will do," you nod - and you both know you're lying. Still, he's a gentleman through and through. Wouldn't have felt right if he didn't at least offer. The bell on the entryway door chimes, but you don't look over to see the customer, choosing to smile at your friend instead. "Catch ya later, Yoongs."

"Yeah, you too," he smiles back, zipping up his coat and pulling up his mask. He's walking home, too, but it's still light. It will be dark by the time nine hits, and even though he doesn't know about last Friday night, he still doesn't like the idea of you walking home alone.

You hear the clink of glasses by the fridge, but the view is obscured by an obnoxious advertising standee your boss has insisted you put up inside the store. You tried telling him that the whole point was to draw customers in, not block them from even entering, but he was having none of it. Doesn't trust the kids in the neighbourhood not to nick it.

There's a crunch as the lid of the chest freezer is slid open, a cup of ice rattling as it's pulled from the stack. You only filled it up half an hour ago. 

Annoying. And who the fuck is drinking an iced drink on a day like today? You think, as if Yoongi doesn't reach for an iced americano before each and every shift. You're just as bad. Your peach tea habit is becoming an issue.

You glance to the forecourt to check which pump to ring through - and that's when you see it. 

Sat in bay six, as proud as the paint is bright, is that stupid fucking Pony again. With a small scoff, you pull up the balance - just over 30,000. Half a tank. Already.

Hardly a surprise, with the way he had been ragging it about on Friday evening. Must be a common occurrence.

As he comes into your line of vision, you busy yourself. 

Turning your back to the kiosk, you're arranging cigarettes that don't need to be arranged, purely so that you don't have to look at him. The bottom of his soju bottle clinks against the counter, the ice and a coffee bag following suit. You still don't turn around, instead opting to look through the 'how-to' manual for the lottery machine, just to really reinforce the fact that serving him is the last thing you want to do.

Had you not told him to stick to Kang's?

"Ahem," he coughs.

You pause mid-page turn and look vacantly into the distance for a moment, before facing him with a smile so insincere it's almost comical.

"Sorry, didn't see you there."

He nods, but doesn't say anything further. He's in all black again, this time with a sweater beneath his bomber. Air quality is still bad, thanks to the cold temperatures and lack of rain to clear the skies, so he's wearing a mask again, but it's perched beneath his jaw. His poker face holds up well.

You ring up his total, ignoring the fact he's chosen to go for a peach tea, not coffee like you'd assumed, and ask if he wants a receipt. He declines, and heads on his way, scooping up his soju bottle, leaving the peach tea.

"Oi," you call after him, but he ignores you."Oi."

Still, nothing. He pushes the door open with his knuckles that are wrapped tightly around the neck of his bottle, not paying you any attention. He's just being a dick at this point. You know he can hear you.

"Oi," you shout again, sliding out from behind the kiosk and following him to the door. You don't grab his drink - he can go back and pick it up himself, the asshole. 

"Kook," you shout, remembering the name the SsangYong driver had called him by.

He stops now.

"Oh," he turns, lips pursed, before throwing your words right back at you. "Sorry, didn't see you there."

Neither of you say anything. It's fucking freezing, and you can see your breath as you huddle yourself together. His eyes are soft, expression gentle, to suggest he's only teasing, but you can't work him out.

"You left your drink."

He shakes his head. Holds up his soju. "No, I didn't. That's yours. You like them, right? It's what you were drinking the other day?"

You narrow your eyes, only for him to raise his brows. You aren't the only nosey one, doll.

"Bit weird," you tell him.

Retrospectively, he thinks you're probably right. It had seemed like a good idea at the time. He hadn't intended for it to be so strange - he just isn't great at admitting when he's in the wrong, so a peace offering is a far more tempting solution.

He digs a hand into his pocket, almost as if he's searching for the remains of his dignity, but simply shrugs. "I know I was a bit of a prick."

Acknowledgements of flaws are always welcome by you, but you really don't fancy just forgiving and forgetting. As stupid as it all seems, it was a life or death situation. A peach fucking tea wouldn't have resurrected you or uncrushed your bones.

"Yeah," you nod, biting down on your lip, a little unsure of how to handle the situation. "You were. And not just 'a bit' of a prick. Massive prick, actually."

He repeats your correction, and adds, "You just took me by surprise. I panicked. I'm not usually that..."

"Unreasonable? Arsey? Unable to control your clutch?"

"All of the above," he smiles, and you notice that he has dimples. Asshole. "Look, I won't bother you again. It just wasn't sitting right with me, the way I behaved. My mother would have been rolling in her grave if she heard me speak to a girl like that, especially so late at night. It was a dick move... and so," he inhales, looking at the ground before briefly meeting your eyes again. They're round and wide, almost as if he's incapable of telling lies. "I'm sorry."

There's silence for a moment, and then there's the flash of headlights as a second car rolls into the forecourt. You both turn to check the car, but it's just a standard family saloon. Nothing worth checking out, but it's enough to end the conversation.

"Stick to Kang's," you simply say as he pops open the door to his car. "I appreciate the sentiment, though. Was sweet."

He nods, fully intending on sticking to Kang's. He just needed to do this before he could move on from things. 

Or at least, that's the assumption that you make as he drives away. 

You wait for a little while, ignoring the man clicking the gas nozzle into the side of his car, just watching the now empty road where the small red car had sped off from. You wonder where he's going, but determine he's most likely going to that FWB you've decided he has.

Turning on your heels slowly, you let your body weight fall into the swing door, pushing it open with your shoulder. The bell jingles, like always, and for some reason, it kind of feels like the sound has settled in your stomach. It's all jittery and annoying, and you don't quite understand it. You definitely don't like it, whatever this feeling is.

It's the same feeling that washes over you next Thursday afternoon, when the bell chimes and you glance out the window, only to see a red Hyundai fucking Pony sat in bay six.

He begins to make a habit of it. Neither of you really address it. He just keeps showing up, filling his tank up, and buying whatever tickles his fancy from the snack fridge. It's nearly always gimbap. Occasionally he'll pick up something a little more substantial, and it's always accompanied with soju on Friday nights.

It takes about three weeks for you to be able to distinguish the way in which he opens the shop door. The bell chimes a little slower than normal, his casually cool demeanour preventing him from using too much force to open it. It will always 'ding' for just a bit longer than when other people push open the door. Doesn't matter where you are in the shop, what time it is. You always know when it's him.

It's a Saturday when you hear the unmistakable sound of him again, 4 weeks since that first time.

You can't see him, thanks to the standee that is still obstructing your view, but you can hear the fridges. One, two, bottles of soju. There's another clang. Three? Unusual. It's when he heads to the snack fridge that you realise you're off your game.

He's holding beers - four of them. Making the most of the four for 10,000 deal, you muse. The bottles are green, so you assume Terra, but there are some foreign imports in the fridge, too. You kind of stop guessing at this point, too busy watching. His hair is messy, like aways, and the flannel shirt he's wearing is in need of an iron, but you have to admit - there's a certain charm about him.

Your eyes flick to the door to check that nobody else has entered, and are proven correct - so why does your stomach still feel like that bloody bell chiming?

"Am I good to leave these here?" He asks, drawing your attention back to him. He's already putting the beers down on the counter, so it's not really like you can say no. "Haven't filled up yet, just wanted to check that you had what I was after, first."

"Beers?" You laugh almost immediately. "It's a GS25, dude. Course we have beers."

"Right," he nods, scrunching his nose up a little as he smiles. It was a stupid excuse, and he knew it. Part of you thinks he actually looks a little bashful. It's sweet. Confusing - but sweet, nonetheless. "I'll just go fill up."

"Uh-huh," you nod, when he doesn't leave immediately, almost as if he's waiting for permission. He laughs, and so do you. It's awkward, and you don't know why but you find yourself dropping his gaze. "Just go fill up your car."

"Yeah, yeah," he says. "Fill up. Right."

You move his bottles to the side just in case of another customer, and set about making yourself look busy, but you're a simple being. It's hard to do anything other than wistfully stare when a boy that pretty is stood in your forecourt. 

He pays you no notice as he unscrews his gas cap and positions the nozzle against the opening of his car.

There's a casual nature to his posture, leaning back ever so slightly as he slides the length of the nozzle into his car, displaying just how in tune he is with doing such a menial task. It's second nature at this point.

He watches the nozzle, then lifts his gaze above the car and out towards the road. His eyes are hard, focused almost, that little line forming between his brows again. Almost like he's looking for something.

There's a click as his gas reaches its limit, and he withdraws the nozzle slightly, letting the excess drip into the tank. He knocks it once, twice, against the entrance to be sure that he's emptied it of every last drop, before he slides it out and hooks it back into its holder.

You finally avert your eyes as he screws the cap back into place, your fingers working nimbly to bring up his total on the screen.

There's that ringing feeling again when you notice he's barely reached the minimum spend, yet you could hear the tell-tale sign of a full tank from the forecourt. He hadn't needed gas at all.

He could have just gotten a few bottles of beer from any of the convenience stores in the area - and yet for some reason, he made his excuse to come to you.

The silage of his aftershave lingers by the kiosk, and you remind yourself that he's probably off to see a girl you've made up in your head. The beers are probably to be drunk with her. The flannel shirt is still creased because what's the point in ironing something that will just end up on the floor, anyway?

It's these thoughts that have you acting a little frosty again when he returns. You ring up his total, instruct him to put his card in the machine, as if he doesn't know what he's doing, and then you offer him a receipt.

He's a little confused by the fact you're as cold as the air outside.

Had your interactions not developed past the point of a typical cashier-customer relationship? Maybe he'd read the situation a little wrong.

"Kang's have beer," he finally adds, accepting his receipt, studying it, just to see if it has your name listed under the cashier ID. It does. He takes his time to fold it up, instead of just stuffing it into his back pocket. He's biding time. Making more for himself. "But I'm a bit of a liar," he says, ending his statement with your name. The way he says it, hanging onto the last syllable, taking claim of your identity as his gaze meets your eyes, has that stupid ringing feeling back in your stomach. "I'm not here for beers."

"No?" you ask, almost nonchalant. You're divided by a perspex screen, and you've never been more thankful. It's cutting the tension for you.

"No," he shakes his head. He's about to speak, when the bell of the door goes again - for real, this time. Not just in your stomach. 

He steps aside to let the customer pay for their gas. It's a simple transaction, no added extras like Flannel Boy always has.

He stands awkwardly, toying at the bagged sweets with his ring adorned fingers. You decide that even if your assumptions about him are wrong, there's one that must be right: he knows he's hot.

The way he turns and smirks after the customer leaves, and says, "where were we?", only confirms this.

"You were saying how you weren't here for beer," you remind him, not that he actually needs it.

The perspex screen feels like a thick brick wall. You're simultaneously thankful for and annoyed by it.

"Ah, that's right," he nods. "You were saying how you're going to call in sick tomorrow night and meet me downtown."

"I'm gonna do what now?" You laugh, caught off guard by his boldness. He's smooth, you'll give him that much.

"You're gonna meet me downtown," he says simply, before adding, "Jungangno underground, exit two. The one near CGV. I can draw you a map-"

"Shut up," you laugh, blissfully ignoring the fact he's flirting with you. "I know Jungangno."

"So you'll meet me there?"

"I didn't say that."

He begins to gather up his beers, two in either hand, a smile etched on his cheeks. "So I'll see you tomorrow, at, hmm, say, 8?"

"No," you laugh.

"Yes," he grins back, walking away so that you don't have even more opportunities to reject his advances.

"No, you won't."

You sound so full of conviction when you say it. Determined. Self-assured.

Idiot.

────────────

You tell yourself that you're not going to go.

You told Mr Gimbap that, too, before he left the gas station, not that he was listening.

You tell yourself it again when you're thinking about what you could wear, and then you repeat it like an oath when you're texting Yoongi to see if he can cover your shift.

It's not like you're actually going to go.

You just want to check out your options.

And yet, somehow, you find yourself sitting on a bench outside a shitty burger chain at seven-fifty-six the next evening.

You're dressed casually, in a pair of jeans and a slouchy sweater which is a few sizes too big, but you think it looks cute. It's covered by a thick puffa jacket, regardless - cropped to your hips, unlike Yoongi's mammoth calf-length one.

He told you he'd be happy to cover your shift tonight when you asked, but you still feel a little guilty.

Mainly because when he asked why, you panicked and lied, telling him it was a friend's birthday. 

You then also told yourself that you're definitely going to hell - but it's not like that's news to you. 

It's still freezing, and you're thankful that you changed out of your converse and into a pair of boots before you left your apartment. Your hair is clipped up, make up the same as it normally is, just with a little more mascara than normal. You don't want to make it look like you've actually made an effort - but you definitely have.

You're about a mile and a half from work, but you can feel that bloody door chime in your stomach, again.

Should you walk away, a little? You don't want him to see you waiting.

Appearing too keen is the least of your desires. 

Desperation isn't a good look for anyone. If anything, he should be the one waiting for you. Kind of rude that he isn't, actually. So you get up, and pace around a little, before thinking fuck it. 

You hop on the elevator and head down into Jungangno underground mall, painfully aware of your stomach doing that stupid ringing thing again. Maybe it's vertigo. From, like, the change in altitude, or some shit like that. You're almost able to convince yourself that it's plausible. Almost. 

The shops in the underground mall are a welcome distraction. Ajummas stand in dated clothing stores, offering low-quality clothes for even lower prices. It's crowded, and stuffy, but you're enjoying the distraction. You head for your favourite jewellery place, an emporium filled floor to ceiling with what must be thousands of jewellery pieces, and fumble through the racks of earrings. 

You aren't wearing any, and remember that he - Kook, though you're not entirely sure that's actually his name - wore enough to open up his own jewellery store. You settle on a simple pair, just a couple silver hoops. It's a subtle difference, but one that makes you feel a little more confident. A little more willing to awkwardly say hello, and go on a date (if you can call it that) with a guy you barely know.

Pulling your phone out, you check the time. Seven past eight. Do-able. A little late, but not so late that it's rude. You head up the stairs, and are greeted with almost the exact same scene you had left ten minutes earlier. 

Perhaps he's just running late. It's not embarrassing to be the first one waiting, not now that it's gone past the meeting time, but you can feel that ringing in your stomach begin to grate against your insides. 

It hits eight-fifteen, and you're feeling anxious. Embarrassed. Even if he does show up now, it's obvious that you've been waiting there like a tragic, desperate excuse of a woman. 

Five more minutes, you tell yourself. 

But five turns into ten, and then another fifteen, and then it's nearly nine. 

You pull out your phone and are barely able to type, thanks to how bloody cold it is.

How long until lateness turns into being stood up?

Opinions vary, but everyone on the little online forum you're reading seems to be of agreement that 45 minutes is the cut off point. 45 cold, lonely, mortifying minutes. 

You imagine he's watching you, laughing from the warmth of a cafe, with that friends-with-benefits girl you've convinced yourself is definitely real. 

God, you must look like a twat. You've been sat here for so fucking long. Your hands are numb, arse too, and you know you're gonna wake up with a cold - but none of these compare to your hurt pride. Not by a country mile.

With a sigh, you stand, admitting defeat. Being a jerk, you could get over. But this? Deliberately being cruel? You're proven right, after all. The guy is an asshole.

You hop on the 503 out of the downtown area and back towards home. The ride is lonely, city lights reflecting in your eyes as you gaze out the window and wonder at which point your life became this bleak. You work at a gas station, and got stood up by a guy who drives a fucking Pony. Mortifying.

The ding of the bus as it rolls into its stops reminds you of the chime of the gas station door - so you stay on for a few extra stops past your apartment building. 

You're gentle as you press the red button to let the driver know you'd like to get off, but there's a little more traffic than normal, so he lets you off ahead of schedule. Odd. The roads are never normally blocked, not at this time of night. 

You're only a couple hundred steps away from the bridge, but you notice the red and blue flashing lights across it almost instantly. 

Your heart sinks to your stomach, right into the pit where the chime has been grating your insides apart. Still, you keep on walking. It's only the road that's blocked. Not the path. One foot in front of the next, you keep going, until your pace begins to increase. You can see the police cars now, and where they're parked. 

Fuck the kid you barely know, fuck feeling sorry for yourself. 

All you can think about is Yoongi. 

There are four cars sitting outside your place of work, and you can hear an ambulance blast its sirens away from the gas station in an attempt to get through the crowd. 

You're gonna be sick. You can feel it - or is that just the chime resting too far up in your oesophagus, now? You ignore it though, and begin to run, faster, faster, faster, boots clicking against the pavement as you draw closer to the gas station. Your boss is there, locked in conversation with a police officer, but Yoongi is nowhere to be seen.

A cop notices you approach, grabbing onto you as you attempt to run past the tape and into the store.

"Woah, woah, woah. Calm down, little lady-"

"Where is he?" You panic, not even caring to offended by the officers choice in tone. "Min Yoongi. The guy who was working. Yoongi, where is he?"

"Who are you?" The officer counters, and you want to scream.

"Where is he?!" You struggle against his grip, kicking out, but the officer is firm. He's trained to handle situations like this; girls like you. The little but fierce. The kind of girls Shakespeare wrote about. "Where the fuck is he?"

From across the forecourt, your boss calls over. "She's one of mine. Was meant to be working this shift. Did a last minute switch with Min Yoongi."

The officer nods, understanding the situation, but not easing his grip. "In that case, I'm gonna need you to come with me to the station. Need you to answer some questions."

You stop struggling. "I- What?"

"You're not under arrest. It's voluntary, but we'll have to go to the station," he speaks calmly, straight to the point. You notice that his nose is slightly crooked. You wonder how many people have punched it. Quite a few, probably, considering that you'd quite like to do the same.

"Just go," your boss calls over, not even looking in your direction. Asshole, you seethe internally. City is full of fucking assholes.

"Where the fuck is Yoongi?!" You demand to know, this time shouting towards your boss, who looks like he's in desperate need of a cigarette. He just fucking shrugs.

"C'mon, station," the officer says, deciding that enough is enough. 

You don't know your rights. You can't fight back, not really, and you're starting to tear up, and everything feels like such a fucking mess. You just wanna know that Yoongi is safe, that he's well, that he's okay. If he's not, it's all your fault, and you don't even know how to process that. 

In fact, you don't know how to process any of this. Your cheeks are wet before you're even sitting in the back of the police car. The engine rumbles, and before you know it, you're back downtown, but this time you're at the city's main police office. 

It's hard to comprehend anything. You practically feel like you're dragged from the car and then dumped in the witness interrogation room. Some rookie cop is asking you questions, and you find yourself not wanting to answer a single one of them.

They're stupid fucking questions, for starters. Dumb shit.

Why did you switch your shift? Were you aware of a planned hold up at your place of work? Is that why you swapped? Who were you going on a date with? Why did you lie to Min Yoongi about your activities this evening? How do you not know the name of your date? Says on your file that you legally changed your name six years ago? Why? Anyone know of your family ties to politics? 

Dumb questions reap dumb answers though, so once they realise they're getting nothing of any substance from you, they admit defeat. Tell you they'll be in touch if they need to follow up.

And then, after they've watched you cry for an hour and half over Yoongi, they tell you he's fine. Came in for routine questioning, but was released without charge (obviously) and drove back. 

He's waiting for you in the lobby. 

That temptation to break the officer's nose? Yeah. Intensifies. 

"God, you fucking idiot," Yoongi speaks softly as you come into view, face all red and puffy from tears cried over him. He pulls you into his chest, and you can hear his heart thud, thud, thud, against your head. "Why did you go to work? Shouldda just gone home."

He calls you an idiot again, and you sniffle into his chest. There's a comforting scent to his clothes, a mix of gasoline and cotton, and it makes you feel a little calmer. 

You pull away, and inspect his face. There's a small graze on his cheekbone, which is beginning to bruise, and a little dried blood crusting around his nostrils. Other than that, he seems okay. 

He's silent as your fingers trace the pink flesh of his cheeks, lips resting a little ajar, unsure. Uncertain. He doesn't know what to make of such an outward display of concern - so he simply brushes it off. 

"I'm fine, trouble," he promises, bringing his hands up to clasp your wrists and stop your hands from roaming. Doesn't wanna stop you. Not really. Just knows that he should. "C'mon, let's get you home."

And it's ridiculous, 'cause Yoongi was the one who had been held at knifepoint by three men that evening, the tills forcefully emptied and his life threatened if he didn't tell them where 'the girl' was. 

He doesn't tell you that last part when he tells you what happened, though. Doesn't want to scare you. He's scared enough, himself.

It replays in his head, the way the guy with the knife doubled-down when Yoongi said he had no clue where you were. The clatter of the knife against the counter, the hands that tangled in his hair and slammed his face against the surface... yeah, they weren't memories he'd be forgetting any time soon.

Yoongi has few regrets in life, but taking the perspex screen down at the beginning of his shift to clean it definitely makes the list.

A conversation plays on loop, though, which scares him more than anything else. 

"You said she'd be here. She ain't fuckin' here!" "Well she normally is. You know I've been keeping watch for weeks-" "Not hard enough." "Oh fuck you, you do it next time, prick." 

Doesn't take a genius to work it out - and Yoongi's pretty smart, regardless. For whatever reason, they'd been hoping you'd be on shift.

"Do me a favour?" Yoongi asks as he rolls his car into your neighbourhood. He only lives around the corner from you, but it's too far, he thinks. 

"Mhmm?"

"Kind of feel a bit..." he pauses, but doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. You already know. "Don't really wanna be alone."

"Stay at mine," you offer, straight off the bat, not giving it a second thought.

He shakes his head. Makes some excuse about your place being small. Avoids mentioning the fact he's scared that someones keeping tabs on you. 

"I've got a spare room," he adds. "Makes more sense."

You'd be forgiven for thinking this is just another sign that the poor boy is helplessly infatuated with you. He knows he isn't really all that inconspicuous, but he also knows that the pair of you would never work. He just can't seem to help himself.

And so you end up in his bed, while he takes the pull out sofa in his spare room, because he's far too much of a gent to make you sleep on something so crappy. He leaves the heater on in your room, because you're always complaining about the cold, and tells you not to worry when you pout and mention the fact it will hike his heating bill. It's a small price to pay. 

"All the money I've saved when you refuse taxis can go on the heater, instead."

Still, you click it off as soon as you're confident Yoongi won't be back in to check on you.

In the morning, when his hair is all fluffy and cheeks puffy from a crappy sleep, he orders breakfast and double-checks that you're okay to work the shift you're scheduled on for. You remind him that he was the one held at knifepoint. Not you.

You're not surprised to learn that Yoongi thinks two iced americanos and half a bagel each qualifies as 'breakfast', but you appreciate it nonetheless. 

"I can cover, if needs be," he rambles, bagel in one hand, americano in the other, while you watch on with a smile. His cheek has bruised rather spectacularly, and you wonder if it aches as much as your heart does. "Boss gave me a couple days off, but I don't love the idea of you being there alone-"

The guilt of asking him to cover the night before is eating you alive. You don't think you'll ever ask him to cover for you again. Karma will catch up with you, you're sure, but for now, you'll be your own Saturn. 

"I'll be fine," you smile. "Lightning never strikes twice." 

────────────

When Jungkook drives, he drives alone. 

No music, no radio, just him and the open road. He likes to hear the way the tarmac sounds beneath his tyres, and how the engine purrs a little louder when he steps on the gas. It's therapy in a way - though, with the amount that he spends on gas, he's pretty certain that an actual therapist would probably be cheaper.

The roads are empty, morning sun breaking beyond the mountains that line Daegu, as he makes his way past the bridge over the river, and out towards Kang's. There's a boxing studio next door, owned by Old Man Kang himself, a little decrepit and definitely not the kind of place you end up by chance. 

It's the kind of place that's bestowed upon those who need it; the people looking for a home. A family. A cult, some like to joke, though Jungkook thinks they're half right. For him, it's somewhere to hide when the world gets too invasive; a shadow in the spotlight. 

Old Man Kang's boxing club is a shit hole, when Jungkook looks at it objectively. Wires hang from the ceiling, and the walls have needed a paint ever since he'd first stepped foot into the place six years ago. He thinks about doing it sometimes, just showing up early before anyone else arrives, with a can of white emulsion from Daiso and a few brushes. Never does it, though. Would be a thankless job. Old Man Kang probably wouldn't even notice. 

And if he did? He'd probably make Jungkook pay for 'defacing his property.' 

As he pulls his car into the forecourt, parking up by the air compressors, Jungkook sighs. He isn't expecting anyone else to be here so early, but he's having trouble sleeping. Pulling down on his sun visor, he's rough as he slides the mirror cover across to study his face.

He's not looking too bad - lip a little split, but alright, all things considered. Could have been a lot worse. Namjoon has a mean left hook, after all.

His thumb presses down on the buckle of his seatbelt, releasing it as he reaches over for his duffle bag in the footwell of his passenger seat. There's a clink as he does so, half a dozen bottles of soju ready to be transferred into the fridge by the entrance to the locker room. It's a free for all, used by all the members of the boxing club, but no one ever knows who actually stocks it up. It just kind of... replenishes. Like Christmas presents, or coins under pillows in place of lost teeth.

Admittedly, Jungkook never used to know, either. He still doesn't know who stocks up the waters. He knows who stocks the soju, though. Or at least, he's known for the last few weeks, now.

Where else is he gonna put all the bottles he buys from your store? It's not like he ever drinks them. He just needs an excuse to visit so frequently. 

"You're early," a voice says from the back entrance, as Jungkook is shuffling around with the bottles. The fridge light hums, illuminating his face, as he lets his perfectionism take priority when arranging the bottles. He doesn't turn to look, knowing the tone by heart.

"So are you, Minnie."

Minnie by name, mini by nature, Park Jimin is a 5'7 (though he swears blind he's 5'9 with shoes on) force to be reckoned with. He likes to get to the club early, before his shifts at the fishmongers. It gets his blood pumping, ready for a day of hacking away at marine carcases. 

"I'm always early," he teases, as he tosses his bag on an old wicker chair in the corner of the room. 

It's a large space - a disused rice store that was repurposed in the 80's, and taken over by Old Man Kang after the last owner gambled it away during a back alley game of poker. A large square ring is in the middle, red ropes a little tatty, but still usable. There are a few machines dotted around the corners of the room, but most people opt to use the plethora of punching bags hung up by the far wall.

Jungkook smiles softly as he begins to wrap his hands up. He's dressed down in just a black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweats. They're tapered towards his ankles, where they meet his beat-up black high tops. His laces are pulled tight, wrapped around the classic star logo, and tied in hasty bows on the back of his ankles. Double knotted, as always. "Couldn't sleep."

For how much of a liar he is, Jungkook is always honest with Jimin. 

Well. Nearly always.

Jimin heads for the far corner, where a skipping rope is strung up on a rusty nail embedded into the wall. He nods, figuring as much. "Joon isn't happy."

Jungkook rolls his eyes as he stretches out his back. He couldn't give a fuck if Namjoon is happy or not, especially not after-

"You should talk to him."

Squaring up to the coffee-brown punching bag, Jungkook knocks his head to the side. His jaw clenches as he gently presses against the leather to get a feel for the weight. He bounces, left, right, and then throws a punch. The smack of his hand against the weighted bag echoes into the room.

"Or not," Jimin adds, sensing that Jungkook is in no mood to talk to anyone - and definitely not Namjoon.

Unsolicited advice is never received well by Jungkook. If he wants it, he'll ask for it. Jimin knows this.

There's an art to the way his body moves, recoiling a little with every punch thrown until he disciplines himself. Back broad and triangular, calves strong and tense, it's clear to see that Jungkook can defend his own. If he had wanted to fight back against Namjoon, he could have. 

But Jungkook is a man of honour. Integrity. Respect. He'd never fight against Namjoon, no matter how much he disagreed with him - so instead, he takes it out on a punching bag that is so old it may as well be an antique. The echo of his assault against the leather rings in his ears like a warning bell. A siren. A chime. 

It's funny, 'cause a few roads over - just past the bridge and down the lane  - there's a ringing in your ears too. 

For you, it actually is a chime - the one of the gas station door, and it's a scathing reminder of how badly you fucked up by asking Yoongi to cover your shift.

You spend your morning lamenting, hypothesising. You're so busy thinking about the stupid boy who drives that god-awful red car, that you don't even bother making assumptions about other customers.

They're all about him. Where he was, who he was with. Why he did what he did. 

You decide that he grew up in a single-parent household. He's already mentioned his late mother, and suggested that she influenced his need to apologise, so a father figure didn't really seem to fit the profile you have of him. 

He wears so much black because he's scared of having an actual personality. Scared that it makes him vulnerable. Or so you assume. In fact, you decide that 'scared' is the best way to describe him. 

A scaredy-cat. A chicken. A pussy. No balls. 

After all, he was too scared to show up, and didn't even have the bottle to find a way to let you know. Did he have your number? No - but perhaps that was deliberate on his part, too.

Your final assessment of his character comes in the form of his FWB (turned far-too-clingy lover). If she's real, which again, you've decided she is, then you don't think it's her fault that she's developed an unhealthy dependency on him. He seems to be the type to lift others up, only to drag them back down with him.

Enough thoughts about him, though. 

If you're not worthy of his time, then why should he be worthy of yours?

The next few days are spent in a subliminal haze; body moving, mind still. It's Wednesday before you know it.

Jieun is on shift with you, after she complained about not wanting to work alone following the raid. You told her that no one would be stupid enough to rush the place again so soon after the first time, but she's having none of it.

"We don't get paid enough to put our lives at risk," she states whenever the topic of conversation is mentioned. And she's right - you don't.

But as you look at the grainy CCTV footage still-image that's taped up above the counter, you can't help but think they wouldn't have actually killed either you or Jieun. Realistically, they barely left a scratch on Yoongi. Physically, at least. Mentally, he's a little more wounded. 

There had been three of them; two rather tall, the third shorter. About Yoongi's height, you guess. Dressed in all black, it's hard to really distinguish any features or their bodies, let alone their faces, which had been covered in ski masks. Run of the mill robbers. The kind you see in crappy action films. Background characters. Just a way to move the plot along, no real personalities, no actual significance to the lives of the protagonists, other than causing a mild inconvenience.

You don't even realise when you're making assumptions, these days.  You think in hypothesis more often than not.

The thieves had run off on foot and down the back alley behind the shop, which is where the trail to find them ends. The CCTV for the alley has been out for months. The boss didn't deem it a necessary investment - "Well, we'd never been robbed before!" - so it had fallen to the bottom of his priority list. The issue with the back alley is that it leads to an underpass with so many blind spots that it's easy - almost too easy - to slip into nothingness. 

It's when you're staring at them, thinking about the assumptions you could make for your mystery men of misdemeanours, that the door chimes. 

You don't ignore it, anymore. The raid has spooked you. So you look towards it, and are met with the sight a broad back. The shoulders, strong and well-defined, are covered in a brown flannel shirt. It's tucked into a pair of jeans, that cling to the contours of the customer's legs. He's not wearing a coat - just hopped out of his car, where the aircon is keeping him toasty - and you realise you recognise his posture. 

The mop of bleached hair is pretty damn recognisable, too. 

"Jieun," you hiss quietly, drawing her attention from the stock she's counting in front of the kiosk. She glances towards you, eyes startled by your tone. You beckon your head back, and she scurries over to you.

"Can you man the till?"

She looks confused for a second. "Why?"

"Girl issues," you lie, knowing she won't be able to say no. "Just came on my period. Need to, yanno-"

"Go, go, go," she nods, hurrying behind the counter, ushering you away and towards the staff room door. 

As you leave, you glance to the curved mirror in the far corner; the one that only you look in. It's your second pair of eyes - but you find another pair staring back at you. It's brief, and his gaze drops as soon as he sees you focus on him, blonde hair covering his dark eyes from your view. He's looking at the gimbap again, now.  Pretending like he never saw you.

Good, you think. Fuck off. 

It's been three days since he stood you up; three days since you jeopardised one of your best friends lives to see him, only for him to be M.I.A. You don't know the kid, not really. Why waste any more of your time on him?

You stay in the bathroom for upwards of five minutes. Just enough time for him to leave. Jieun must be wondering what you're doing, but you'll just explain it away.

You're quite good at that. Lying. Just little ones, white lies. Porkies. Fibs. Never anything that will harm another person, just things that will protect you instead. 

"Who's the blonde dude?" Jieun asks when you return. You furrow your brows and play dumb. "The one with the brow piercing," she adds, as if you need any clarification. Blonde dudes aren't really the norm around these parts. He sticks out like a sore fucking thumb. "Tattoos."

"Dunno," you say with a smile. It's the same one that laces all of your little lies.

For once, Jieun looks at you, her thick brows hard and poised, as if she knows you're lying. 

And then she nods towards the counter, where a peach tea and a cup of ice sits. "Left this for you."

"Hmm," you purr. "Must think I'm someone I'm not."

Yeah, you think scornfully. Must think I'm an idiot.

It worked as an apology once before - but it's a pattern of behaviour, now. He's a leopard, spots unchanged as he runs away from the consequences of his actions, suffocating you in the dust clouds he leaves behind.

"He's cute," Jieun muses.

"No," you smile. It's the same one. That little one full of lies. "He's not."

────────────

The peach tea sits on the counter by the till for two days. It's tucked behind a box of pocket money candies, which are waiting to be restocked; hidden in such a way so that only you know it's there.

Y'see, you've been making assumptions again - though you wouldn't really call this one an assumption. It's acceptance of a habit that's been proven: he will return.

He always does, it seems. 

And sure enough, that afternoon, two days after you'd last been graced with his presence, he returns.

Jieun spots him first, eyes darting immediately towards yours. You're like a deer in headlights, ready to bolt - but she doesn't let you.

"Gotta go," she squeaks, before mouthing 'girl issues' to you, with a smile she reserves moments like these; her little victories. 

He does his usual rounds, and you're already mentally ringing it up: a bottle of soju, and a tuna gimbap roll. You glance out to the forecourt, towards pump six - but it's empty. Not a single car in sight, let alone his trusty red pony. You're confused. Brows furrowed, nostrils a little flared. Lips pouty. You big baby. 

When he eventually comes to the kiosk, it takes all of your strength not to ask, 'why the fuck are you here?'

And just like all of your assumptions about him, you're wrong. Again. 

No soju, no gimbap. Banana milk and bibimyun ramyeon, instead. A great combination by all accounts, but you're not gonna give him the satisfaction of letting him know you think his choice is elite. 

As far as you're concerned, he can take his banana milk and shove it up his ass.

Frustratingly, he appears to find amusement in your outward expression of annoyance. There seems to be a small grin on his face, cheeks appled beneath his mask, as if he's not aware that it's painfully awkward between the pair of you.  

He has no manners, you decide. No spine. No awareness of social cues, either. A triple whammy. What a catch.

But you believe that silence is a virtue, so you say nothing as you ring up his items. You don't even tell him his total - just nod towards the card machine. He follows your line of sight, watching the machine light up for a moment, before putting his card in the slot. 

While he does so, you reach for the peach tea and add it to his stockpile. 

"You forgot your drink again."

He looks at the pouch of tea, then up towards you. And then he repeats it, several times.

"Ouch," he says, ending his declaration of pain with a small laugh. You've got half a mind to rip the pouch open and pour it all over his shitty flannel shirt. It's blue today, paired with sweats, because apparently that's fashionable? 

Boy looks like he got dressed in the dark, you think scornfully - but really, you're just annoyed with how hot you think he looks. Unreasonably hot. He's the bloody Sahara storming through Daegu's coldest winter. He's melting the river, leaving everyone wet in the process. 

Or maybe not. Maybe just you-

"What's the grin for?" he teases, and you realise that you've been paying too much attention to your thoughts.

"No grin," you snap, face flushed.

"Service with a smile, as always."

"Your transaction is done," you say, this time smiling as if butter wouldn't melt. "You can leave, now."

He holds up his pot of ramyeon and shrugs, before glancing over to the food station, where the hot water and microwaves are waiting for him. "Actually, I think I'm just gonna eat here."

Without even so much as a glance back towards you, the asshole picks up a pair of chopsticks, wrapped in thin paper, and heads towards the food station. You're in a state of disbelief. Entitled prick.

Jieun returns almost as soon as he's left the counter. She still doesn't have a clue about whatever's happened between the pair of you, but she did see you hiding up the peach tea a couple of days ago, so she figured it was something. 

"You gonna take it to him?" she asks, nodding down towards the tea, which he's left at the counter, again.

"No."

"Take him the tea."

"No."

"Take it."

"No.

"Fine," she huffs. "If you don't, I will-"

"Fine!" you whisper, though it's definitely a shout. You might not want anything to do with him, but you also don't want to watch him work his charms on Jieun. For her benefit. Not yours. Definitely not because you don't want to see him flirting with her instead.

Him, with his stupid tattoos, and dumb blonde hair, and annoying smile and-

"Go," she grins. 

"Just... give me a minute."

You watch as he fills up his ramyeon bowl, hot air steaming around the jet of water. It's been a while since you ate, and you're a little jealous. Your break isn't for another few hours yet, though, so smelling his food throughout the store will be torture. Asshole.

He sits down, and Jieun pesters you a little more, but you're trying to wait it out. If a customer comes in, then you can just deal with them instead - but the forecourt is empty, just like it always is at this awkward time of day. After lunch, but before the end of school. This is the real ghost shift of a gas station - after midnight is when it comes alive. 

Admittedly, it was a little too lively the night of the raid. You make a mental note to text Yoongi on your break, just to check-in, and then you glare at Jieun and her shit-eating grin, before heading towards gimbap-less Mr Gimbap. 

Tossing the bag down onto the cheap plastic table, you're indifferent as you speak. "Like I said. This is yours."

"Is it?" he asks, unpierced brow raised. "Doesn't look like mine."

"Well, it is," you say, clearly fed up with him. "And just while we're talking - where's your car?"

His eyes narrow ever so briefly. Almost like he knows you're onto him. For what? No clue. But something.

"Taillights out. Just needs a repair."

You nod. Seems plausible. At least he sticks to the highway code - even if he does break it after the clock strikes twelve every other weekend. 

You're not quite sure what to make of him as he looks at you, eyes only lingering for long enough to let you know that there's something he's not telling you. 

The air quality isn't bad today. There's no need for him to be wearing a mask, but he's hiding. From you? From something else? You can't work him out.

Perhaps it's shame. 

After all, this is a boy who came and apologised to you for being a little bit mean in the heat of the moment. Being deliberately cruel doesn't really seem like his motive, no matter how cold his demeanour is.

And so, instead of just letting your assumptions fester, you voice them.

"You're hiding something." 

You're met with silence. 

"Behind that mask," you clarify, before repeating yourself. "You're hiding something."

He looks at you for a moment, before dropping your gaze, and glancing towards the door. 

Thinking about making a run for it, you lament internally - but he's not. He just doesn't like how sometimes - just sometimes - your assumptions are entirely correct.

He lifts his ringed index finger to his ear, unhooking the thin black elastic that keeps his mask in place, before letting it fall. His skin is clammy beneath it from the heat of his breath, and the chill of the winter breeze outside, but your eyes fall to his bottom lip. 

It's split, the centre crease darker than the soft pink flesh around it. There's a bruise beneath it, still tender and sore. You don't mean to, but you gasp at the sight of it. It's no worse than Yoongi's graze, the placement makes it so much more bothersome.

Uncomfortable with the way you're looking at him - like you feel sorry for him - he hooks his mask back up again. 

"Happy now?" he asks, knowing that you just love to be proven right.

You scoff, a little offended. "Obviously not. What happened?" You take the seat opposite his. "Are you okay?"

"Nothing happened," he lies, avoiding your eyes as he does so. It's funny how you haven't noticed that little trait of his yet. You will. Just not yet. "I'm fine."

"You're quite clearly not fine."

"Quite clearly am," he bickers, before nodding to the food on the table. "Just hungry."

Ouch. You're just trying to make sure he's okay, but if he wants to be hostile again, then fine. No skin off your back. 

You nod, looking away. It's awkward, and when the bell chimes to indicate another customer entering the shop, you find your stomach lurching. 

Still, he toys with the softening noodles in their pot, as if they're the most fascinating things in the world. 

This isn't how he wanted this conversation to go. Hell, he doesn't even know what the outcome should be. He's just feeling uneasy, as if he's making all the wrong choices.

"I heard about the raid."

You nod. It's been on all the local radio stations. Thankfully Yoongi is the only employee being name-checked. You aren't ready to give up your own personal paradise just yet, which is exactly what will happen the second your family gets notice of where you're spending your days.

"Yeah, me too," you deadpan. It's a fault of yours, giving back the same energy you receive, unable to just suck things up and be nice all the time.

Thankfully, he smiles. You kind of expected that he would. He seems to get you, get your humour. It's something you both share, like a little secret. A smile rests on his lips as he glances up towards you, like he's a school kid trying not to giggle in class.

And then you find yourself making assumptions again. You wonder what he would have been like in school, if he would have been just as charming. You bet that he was the kind of kid who could get away with murder in class. All he'd have to do was flash those of eyes of his, and he'd be off the hook.

Sort of like how he does with you. Why else would you be giving him the time of day after he stood you up?

"Oh really?" He entertains your attitude."What did you hear?"

You lean against the table, a little bit provocative, but only 'cause his tone of voice matched it. "Heard that I'm lucky some prick asked me out, even if he did leave me waiting for hours in the dark."

His smile falters a little, but only for a fraction of a second. He likes the flirt; doesn't like the acknowledgement of what he did. "Hours?"

"Nah," you scrunch your nose up, and sit up straight again. You're still smiling, to let him know that you're feeling fine about it, now. "Didn't stick around for that long. What?" You laugh when he raises a brow, and begin to tell white lies. He'll see through them, but you want him to. "You think I don't have other eligible bachelors lining up, trying to take me on dates?"

He shrugs, and you can tell that he's pouting a little behind his mask. "I'm still the one you skived off work for, am I not?"

"That's neither here nor there."

"Yeah, it is," he speaks softly, leaning forward on the table. Closer. "What time do you clock off today? I wanna talk. Properly."

"Are we not talking properly now?" You say, unable to resist being difficult. It takes everything within his power not to roll those pretty eyes of his - but you're grinning, and he finds himself doing the same back. His mouth may be covered by his mask, but you can still tell.

He thinks about his response for a moment. If he's being honest, he wants to make some crude remark; tell you that he wants to get you talking just so he can think of ways to shut you up. You're not at that level yet, though. Coming on strong is unfavoured by him, so he opts for something a little cooler.

"We're talking about talking," he reminds you, picking up the pot up and leaning over to the sink by the food station to drain the excess water. "I wanna talk about... well, anything else."

You purse your lips, folding your arms across your chest. There's part of you that really wants to say no, to tell him to go fuck himself. But there's a teeny tiny part of you that wants to say-

"Nine. I'm off at nine."

"Nine," he nods. "I'll be here."

"Sure you will," you tease.

"I will."

"Yeah, yeah. Course. You're really good at that." You're nodding enthusiastically, a stupid smile on your face, eyes all wide as if you couldn't be more naive. You can tell he's smiling again, and it's like that door chime in your stomach is bloody broken. "Yanno, the whole showing up when you say you will, thing."

"Shut up," he laughs, but it catches in his throat like a low growl. "I'll be here, but not if you keep being a little bitch."

Your teeth cushion themselves on your bottom lip, and you nod. "See you at nine... Kook?" You question, realising that you're yet to actually ask his name.

"Jungkook. But Kook works, too. Just depends on how well acquainted you're planning on getting."

He doesn't give you a chance to reply, simply standing as he pushes the pot of noodles over to you. "Eat up. You look hungry."

Turning on his heel, he heads for the door. 

The bell chimes, and it's like it's harmonising with the feeling in your stomach.

You prod around at the noodles, and sigh, posture defeated. This is not good.

────────────

The rest of your shift trudges on. It's slow, the hands of the clock seemingly frozen - until, suddenly, it's nine.

"You're late," Jungkook greets you, perched on a bollard by the side of the forecourt. He's wearing a coat, now, wrapped up a little warmer than he had been earlier. His sweats have been traded for jeans, but he's still in that big blue flannel shirt. You like it. 

And he's not wrong - cashing up your till took a little longer than normal, thanks to an old note that wouldn't read properly in the sorter. Just another thing your boss refuses to upgrade.

"At least I'm here," you quip back.

"Touché." He holds out his arm, almost as if he expects you to link yours with his. "Shall we?"

You look at his arm, then up towards him. And then you repeat it, letting out a soft laugh, not accepting his arm, instead turning to walk in the direction of home. "C'mon," you call back. "You walking me home or not?"

It's his turn to laugh now as he ups his pace to catch up with you. "Not."

"Not?"

"Not," he repeats, seemingly unable to say anything else - until, of course, he does. "My cars around the corner. Wanna go for a drive?"

"Sorted the taillight?" You ask, curious, figuring that it would have been at Kang's overnight.

Jungkook hums a response, not really saying yes or no, but as you turn the corner and it comes into vision, you can see that his taillights seem fine - not that you can really judge. A car as old as his doesn't come with central locking systems, so it's not like you'll see the lights flash as it-

Oh. Nevermind.

There's a beep, and the car flashes in front of you, mocking those damn assumptions of yours.

"Since when do Pony's have electric locks?" You ask defensively, almost as a reflex for having your assumptions disproven.

"Since I decided to install them," he says, as if it's the simplest job in the world. You've heard Yoongi mutter 'bastard locks' enough times to know otherwise.

"Kang's must make a killing from you," you joke as he nods towards the passenger side, indicating for you to get in.

"Kang's don't make shit from me when it comes to the wires."

You wait for him to pop his door open before you do the same. The interior is leather, all black, and is cold to the touch as you get in. The windscreen begins to fog almost instantly, the minimal heat you're letting off proving just how cold it's been getting lately. 

It's curious, you think. There should be a little heat left in the car from his drive to meet you.

"No?" you question, choosing to ignore the temperature of the car. It's below zero, you rationalise. Of course it cooled quickly.

"No," he shakes his head, turning the key in the ignition.

The car rumbles - purrs - softly. You can tell he's listening to the engine, making sure that it sounds okay before he sets off. Standard old car problems. Running gas through the motor before it warms up only causes issues.

Like his locking system, you notice that the stereo isn't exactly true to the era in which the car was built (even if the lack of insulation is). It's got an aux cord hanging from the headphone jack, which he picks up and places in your lap. "Don't put anything shit on."

He avoids clarifying your question, and it annoys you - so you choose to be direct about it, not plugging your phone in at all. If he doesn't want to listen to shit music, he should be a more specific.

You're stewing, clearly irritated, but you're also casually enamoured, watching him as he carefully observes the dashboard, checking the revs, trying to heat the car up a little.

"Just the electrics? What about everything else?"

He doesn't look your way as he replies. "Just the electrics. Put your seatbelt on."

"Why?"

He's still not looking at you. "'Cause if I crash, you'll go straight through the windshield."

"Not the seatbelt," you reply, though he's got a point. You haven't clicked it into its buckle yet. Nor has he, though. "The electrics."

Still. Not. Looking. At. You.

It's not even like it's an important question. You couldn't give a flying fuck about his shitty car's electrics. You just don't like that he's deliberately avoiding answering something so simple, as if you're asking him how old he was when he lost his virginity.

Eventually, he cracks. It's as he's sliding his seatbelt down, the smooth noise of  fabric scruffing against plastic filling the car. He's bargaining - hopes that if he does his belt up, then you will too. 

Then again, he knows that you're difficult, and that you'll probably use it as a bargaining tool. You won't do it up until he gives you an answer.

"Electrician by trade," he says with a little sigh, before turning to face you finally. "Happy?"

You don't want to say yes - but you are. You're smug in the knowledge that you know just as much about him now as he does you.

"By trade?" You push a little further as your buckle clicks into place.

"By trade," he answers, in that annoying way he so often does, not really giving you an answer, just confirming what you already know. "I'm in between jobs at the moment."

"Ah," you smile, finally putting the aux into your phone. The windows are beginning to clear. "That explains why you're always in the garage at such weird hours."

It doesn't. There's an entirely different explanation for that. Not one that he'll give, though.

He hums a response, not wanting to tell more lies. He knocks the car into first, and lets the handbrake down, easing the car into motion as it rolls gently from the curb and into the road. 

It's at this point you realise you're in the car with a near-stranger, and that it's probably the dumbest thing you've done in a while. You're smarter than this. Been raised better.

Jungkook smiles at your statement, though. "You ever stop making assumptions?"

A laugh falters in the back of your throat. "No," you muse. "I don't think I do."

His palm rests on the gear stick, thigh pressing down against his seat as he dips the clutch. There's a simple joy to be found in watching his movements like this, as if you're getting to see something reserved for very few people. He's smiling as he knocks it into second gear. Smiles a lot around you, actually. 

Perhaps he's just like this all the time. Naturally light natured, despite the dark clothes and even darker eyes.

"Tell me mine," he says as the car moves from the slightly beat up side road, towards the main street that leads up to the bridge. There's a change in pressure beneath the tyres, the new road far smoother, far easier, than the one you'd been on previously. "Your assumptions. I wanna hear them."

"I can't," you reply, as if they're some closely guarded secret. In a way, they are. You've built up this idea of Jungkook; of who he is, who he associates with, what he does in the dark.

If he confirms or denies a single one of these assumptions, then it could all be in tatters.

"Can't? Or don't want to?"

You watch his hands as he flicks on an indicator. There's no one else on the road. Seems redundant. It's interesting, though, how he seems to care about the rules of the road now that you're in the passenger seat.

"Why can't it be both?"

And just like that, you're going round in circles again. Always talking, but never quite saying anything. It's a strange little dance you like to do, one that you don't know the steps to, but seem to get right anyway.

He uses the palm of his hand to turn the wheel, back on the bridge now. It's less icy today, but you find your heart resting in your chest just like it did the first time you were here with him. He glances over to you, but you keep your eyes straight ahead.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "About that time. When we were here, yanno?"

You nod. It's a weird thing to think about. You could have died. Came pretty fucking close to it - and yet all that really lingers in your mind from that night is the way he stared you down.

"Mhmm," you press your lips together, and cross your legs.

He doesn't like it. The way your body sort of angles away from his. It's cold. Cruel, almost.

So he lifts his hand from the gear stick and taps your knee. A request, not a demand. He's gentle as he nudges, encouraging your legs to unhook, until they're back in their original position. You just kind of let him. Neither of you say anything, but there's an awareness that he doesn't want you to close off from him.

Your arms move instead, without much thought, crossing over themselves.

"Don't."

The silence is so loud you think the windows might shatter.

"Please," he follows it up, then decides that he needs something to fill the void that you're leaving in the conversation. "Put some music on," he says, before backtracking on his earlier statement. "I don't mind if it's shit."

It earns a small smile from you, an exhale from your nose letting him know that you find humour in his words.

You unlock your phone and head to spotify, confronted with more playlists than you know what to do with, and settle on the one you use when Yoongi lets you control the music in his car. It's pretty inoffensive, you think. Nothing too shit. No noughties classics, at least, though there are a couple from the 80's. If he complains, you'll just remind him of how old his car is.

"So what's the deal?"

The fact you only start talking as he exits the bridge isn't lost on Jungkook.

"No deal," he replies just as casually as you asked.

"Well you aren't taking me home," you muse, glancing over to him. There's a smile on his face. Dimples present. "And I'm hoping that you're not chauffeuring me to a date with the Grim Reaper - so where are we going?"

"We-" He turns to face you, now. Just briefly. Just a glance with a smile that has a chime sounding in your tummy again. "-are heading into town. I don't think the Grim Reaper's gonna be there, but you never know with that dude. Always showing up at the worst of times."

"Mm," you agree with a small laugh. "His social skills are atrocious."

"You give him a run for his money, yanno," Jungkook teases you.

It's reflex, more than anything, that has you swatting at his shoulder. The fabric of his shirt is soft, and there's a waft of his aftershave as you draw your hand back to your lap. Oaky. Mature. Probably more than he seems to be.

"My social skills are fine. You're just shitty company."

"Me?!" He sounds affronted now, but there's a grin plastered all over his pretty little face. "Sorry, little miss clutch control. Forgot you were queen of making casual conversation."

"Uh-huh," you say as you shift in your seat, body angled towards his. The smile on his face grows. There's one on yours too. A pretty fuckin' big one, at that. "That's why they hired me. Could see I'd be great with the customers."

He snorts, crown of his head tipping against the back of his seat. "Oh, yeah?"

You hum an affirmation, and Jungkook looks towards you briefly, chin lifted, eyes narrow, curious of what you'll say next. 

"Well, I seem to have done alright with one of the customers, at least."

His teeth begin to show as he looks towards the road again. "Poor fucker. I'd hate to be him."

And then you're both laughing. 

It's how it remains for the rest of the evening. 

You're laughing when he parks in the furthest corner of the lot, just to make sure no one scrapes his paintwork. You're laughing when he can't figure out the QR code for the automatic parking fee, and you're laughing when he tells you to fuck off for laughing. 

But he's laughing too. 

Laughs when you can't figure out the apron in the dakgalbi place off the side of the main shopping street, and laughs when the middle-aged lady running the shop comes to help you out. Jungkook had refused. He was enjoying the struggle too much.

See, your cheeks go all red when you get flustered. He's never seen that look on you before. You get a similar look once you realise the spice of the galbi is a little hotter than what you're used to, and you get it again after you've had a few shots of soju.

He matches you, shot for shot, but also makes sure to keep filling up your stainless steel water cup. In fact, he fills it more than he fills his own.

Unlike you, and your perceived ability to judge characters, Jungkook actually can read people pretty well. He knows his limits, and he's guessing at yours, but doing a good job doing so.

It's not until Jungkook's paying that you realise just how many bottles the pair of you have gotten through. You're steady on your feet, but you can feel the alcohol in your system, and know that he must be the same.

"How we getting home?" You ask, as the chime of the door rings behind you. Within seconds you're pulling your arms over your chest, trying to preserve heat. You fucking hate January.

"C'mon," he mumbles, looping his arm around your shoulders, rubbing at the side of it quickly to build up some heat. He's all hunched up too, clearly feeling the cold. "Taxi? I can pick my car up in the morning."

It's gone twelve on a week night. You both know there's no way in hell you'll be able to score a taxi, not without a 45 minute wait, at least. The curse of downtown Daegu. Should have just gone to eat in your neighbourhood, but Jungkook felt like he had a point to prove. He wanted to make it up to you. Properly.

You drop Yoongi a text as you load up your taxi app, just checking in, letting him know that you're all good. He replies pretty much instantly, but you're distracted by Jungkook letting you know that his app says no cabs are available.

"Shit," you hiss, bouncing around on the balls of your feet, trying to keep warm.

Jungkook weighs up his options. On the one hand, he knows he needs to get you home. On the other, you're hopping around like a fucking bunny. It's borderline cruel to keep you out in the cold like this. Especially when his place is only a ten minute walk away, in the heart of town, compared to your hour long trek back to the outskirts.

"My place isn't too far."

The suggestion is out of his mouth before he knows any better. He's getting himself in too deep already. All it's taken is a couple weeks of awkward flirting across a gas station kiosk and exactly one (1) shared dakgalbi. Maybe the 6 bottles of soju didn't help.

"You can wait it out in the warm for a taxi, at least," he adds on, before realising that you're both as tipsy as one another. Both hovering a little too close to one another. Both feeling that weird pull, of which he's telling himself to ignore, but he just can't seem to help himself.

He's a simple man, of simple pleasures - and sex is the most simple of them all.

If he wants it, then you probably do, too.

Might do, he corrects himself. Best not to make assumptions about things like these.

"Wait it out," you nod, a little grin resting on your lips. They're a little plumper than normal, partially thanks to the galbi spice, but also thanks to the you've been biting down on them all evening. It's okay, though. Jungkook's lips are just as bad. All plump and pretty and - fuck. You know you're staring but it's kind of hard not to.

He knocks his head to the side and holds out his hand for you to take. "C'mon. I'm this way."

And so you do take it. Fingers neatly linking between his, hooking on and holding close as if it isn't the first time that it's happening. It's been so long since you did this with another person that you're almost not sure you're doing it right. His grip adjusts, and then his other hand reaches behind your shoulders to prop the hood of your jacket over your hair.

"For the wind," he says. 

Definitely not so that the pair of you are a little more incognito. 

It's why he puts his hood up, too... For the wind. 

After all, he's not hiding behind his mask like he was earlier. Not hiding from you. 

But he's hiding from something.

And you should be, too.

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minors dni // posted to wp late 2021 // series masterlist