#i think i said on call last night while I was working on this how it just DIDNT look like I drew it for a solid 3 hours
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âïžđȘœ ARMAGEDDON ! jujutsu kaisen. ćȘèĄć»»æŠ.
prologue â â
what if gojo satoru was the king of curses? or nanami kento, the suave n' disdainful cult leader? ryomen sukuna, the strongest at jujutsu tech? welcome to alternate reality jujutsu kaisen.
pairings â â
gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna genre tags & warnings â â
afab/she+her!reader, fĂngering (f), metaphysical sĂ©x, reader is called 'whĂłre', the most incorrect use of unlimited void ever, Ăłral (m), consensual Ă©xhibitiĂłnism/voyĂ©urĂsm (nanami), mentions of violence, wall sĂ©x, hate sĂ©x (choso), jealous sĂ©x, car sĂ©x (toji), rĂding him to tears, cĂłrruption kink, overstĂm, angry sĂ©x, lore swaps in a way that would make shonen jump blacklist me forever
word count â â
5.1k a/n â â
been teasing this since november last year and i lost motivation and forced myself to pick it back up and get it togetherrr đ my formal apologies extended to gege
GOJO SATORU áč. the king of curses
"i h-hate you, i really, really do!" funny, isn't it? how the words that fall from your kiss-stung lips don't quite match at how you're writhing and squirming in the lap of a being that could easily snap you in two, should he so wished.
clearly, gojo satoru seems to find you, his vessel, just as amusing, for he thinks he's grown rather used to your antics. to the way that you claim to detest him, and that you'll never entertain his offers ever again. and yet here you are, always crawling back to the king of curses when the long hours of the night don't allow you to rest.
"that's possibly the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," gojo coos, chiming sweetly while two fingers work their way through your insides, crooking and curling to find your sweet spot. sighing as though he wasn't affected by your bare form, draped across his throne, "you know what i really admire about you? your unshakeable principles. how you say that you just can't stand me, heh, and yet, always beggin' like a whore for me."
"fuck, gojo, r-right there, â" eyes rolling to the back of your head, revealing the whites, as translucent gloss practically drips down one of the demon's four hands.
"yes, yes," gojo mutters, "i'll get to that, jus' gotta' be patient." luckily, your back is pressed against his bare chest, the muscles and flesh littered with bold, ivory markings. the very edges of ice-kissed hair tickling at your cheek as sharp fangs sink into the shell of your ear, almost tender.
each push and pull of gojo's slender, sturdy fingers between your swollen folds leaves a resounding pop! that echoes through this...well, you're not quite sure where you are. all you know is that, as gojo satoru's vessel, you're prone to sharing his domain â particularly when you're trying to sleep. frankly, you should be a little more concerned about the frequency of these metaphysical meetings, but it's hard to think of little else but how his fingers are so thick, hitting all the right spots in you.
"hey, have i ever told ya' about unlimited void?" gojo suddenly murmurs, jostling right over the nasty bulge that the king of curses packs beneath those loose robes. you tiredly droop your head back, too busy rolling your hips, so close to that dear climax that you've been chasing ever since your soul popped up in gojo's throne room. your eyes meet four blue irises, each one cunning and sharp.
"is t-this really the time for a, hah, a lesson?" you scowl, feeling gojo stiffen and curse underneath you when your pretty cunt sets a steady rhythm over his clothed shaft, "you were no help earlier today, y'know that, right? when that c-curse was â"
gojo nips at your neck, those strands of snowy hair kissing your neck once more, "you were doing just fine without me, always got somethin' to complain about, don't you, eh?" lifting your hips to hiss at the arousal that's leaking out from underneath you, pooling in his wide lap. muttering something about how a human and a lowly vessel like you should be honoured to receive a teaching from the incarnated king of curses, "now pay attention, 'cause i'm not gonna' be repeating myself. 's about t-time you learnt more about this domain."
bleary eyes cracking open to try and capture the sight of a floorless throne room, as though the night sky had been captured to form the base, flickering often as a starless, yet stormy sky, "i k-know unlimited void," you whine, "always showin' off in my head 'bout it," seething as gojo stills his fingers inside you, tutting as he presses a kiss to the nape of your neck.
two beefy arms still hold you aloft, while one has fingers buried within your cunt, and the fourth? deft, rough pads of his fingers begin rubbing soothing, tight circles over your clit, rendering most of your mind to mush, "not just a realm, sweetheart. heh, guess you could say it's a curse. at least for anyone foolish enough to find themselves trapped there â," patting your thighs gently, "present company excluded, of course."
resuming his gentle, punishing pace once more, still curling upwards where he's most eager to reach, that special spot that will see you falling apart so beautifully, "see, when most lesser beings enter, it's like â mhmm, how should i put this?" gojo's musing, voice curling melodiously behind you, slapping away your eager hand that reaches for his cock, "not yet, where was i? well, unlimited void stretches one's mind, traps ya' in an endless sea of information. trust me, yer' gonna' know every atom and particle out there."
"ah, gojo!" lashes fluttering with crystal tears that pull at the corners of your eyes, for he's hit the arrowhead right on the mark, right where your climax is poised to wash over you any second now.
but gojo's ignoring your needy cries, two fingers flexing so tense against your gummy, sticky walls, "so the mind can't really handle unlimited void, and most are just...shut down. but only when i activate it, does that make sense?" he's musing, not waiting for your answer, "yeah, it does, hah. but we are not most lesser beings, right?"
you're not even sure what on earth he's going on about, desperate to chase the orgasm that teases you, licks flames at your groin, "n-no, we're not, fuck, gojo, 'm so â"
"close?" gojo chuckles darkly, and you should have known. truly, you should have guessed that he would have never been so generous with your pleasure if he wasn't planning something. for just as you ripple with the dazed pleasure, you can feel gojo crook one finger in you, one behind the other, curling the digits just so he can mutter something you only catch when it's too late.
"unlimited void."
what follows next is earth-shattering, for you feel as though its the ultimate surrender to the king of curses, where time and space, and thought all blend together into something overwhelming perfect, rather than suffocating. your lips part, soundless as a silent cry is ripped from you, your thighs quivering atop gojo satoru's muscular lap, release absolutely spraying and gushing out from your swollen, eager folds.
you've never had a release that's quite so...clear and inviting, and you can hear gojo's amused, aroused laugh against your back, and if you didn't know better, you would assume that the king of curses is running pale claws through your hair, letting you ride out the crystalline wave of your orgasm.
"hahh, oh my â oh my god, satoru," you're probably babbling, clinging and creating a bigger mess over gojo, who just narrows all four eyes, tipped with white, long lashes. he's smiling, as though he knows something that you don't, and he looks almost pleased, "should we continue the next lesson tomorrow night?"
NANAMI KENTO áč. the cult leader
you should have known better, you really should have been a bit smarter about all this, about flouncing into the hall where nanami had been holding court, or rather, cult. for the mats had been set up the previous day for the wealthiest benefactors to come and see the great, golden man in the flesh.
and you doubt your husband had been...pleased, when you had poked your head past the great sliding doors, clad in nothing but an open robe in swathes of rippling navy. so all those who turned their head would have caught sight of nanami kento's beautiful wife, nipples pebbled in the cool air, drawing their line of sight to the apex of your thighs. so, that's how you found yourself here, lips pursed around the fat head of the cult leader's shaft.
"she's doin' so well, isn't she?" nanami intones, gentle hand guiding the nape of your neck, loving even. well, he always was, despite the games that the two of you played. the show that he was always eager to put on, hazel eyes gazing over the gaping maws of the benefactors who could only watch, shifting on their mats as you lifted your head up with a pop!
he's chuckling to himself, running a limp hand through thick waves of amber hair, "heh, 's okay. no-one needs speak, i need to be hearing her properly." her being the slick sounds echoing from the hollows of your mouth, the lips that you used to press creamy kisses onto his cock.
"doing, mmph â doing good?" you mumble, that heavy slurp! of your tongue against the broad underside of his cock sending him to heaven and back. he's adjusting his glasses, guiding a shaky hand to the base of his cock, where golden curls coil thickly, slowly sliding his member from your pretty mouth. smearing your waiting lips with the translucent smears of pre that you've pulled from him.
"the best," nanami assures you, patting at his thick, muscular thighs for you to lay your head, "and t-they all think so too, i bet." he can see the gleam in your eyes, knows that you're enjoying this just as much as he is.
wondering at all the creative ways that he can take you right after this, perhaps splayed out on his lap for all to see, back against the teal robes snug on his chest, so the benefactors can see his cock slide between the fat folds of your cunt. tempting.
you're pursing your lips once more, wiping a stray, clingy strand of nanami's arousal from your chin, before diving back to the head task at hand. each wet, sloppy sound of your glistening lips against the fat, blushed tip of his cock has nanami's thighs shaking, quivering. determined not to whine and lose composure in front of the men who fork over billions of yen to his...temple each month.
but it's your hands that are the most dangerous, nanami concludes, for while you flatten your tongue against his tip, your fist tightens around the base of his cock, teasing gentle fingers against the folds of skin right underneath, and his mind goes absolutely blank.
shooting ropes after ropes of thick, buttery release against your lips. watching with glimmering, hazy eyes as your fingers catch the droplets of his release, reaching in between your thighs to slicken your cunt further with his climax, god, nanami truly thinks he's going to burst.
there's a faint, muffled groan from someone in the audience, and he can see the pitying, disapproving look in your eyes. for someone's broken the golden rule of silence, and well, the whole room is gonna' pay for that now. and miss out on a truly magnificent show, he'd wager. what a shame, but no big loss. he's truly extracted whatever funds they had, so these men are of no use to him now.
he gently runs slender fingers over your chin, dipping at the plush flesh of your lower lip, helping you up, "come, my love. i don't want you seeing this," pulling your open robes tighter across your heated flesh, he's guiding you to the door, past the rows of slack-jawed men. nanami kento certainly doesn't want the love of his life hearing the sounds of errant curses ripping flesh apart.
CHOSO KAMO áč. the assassin
you not really sure what's stopping you from plunging the tip of a blade into the throbbing veins that bulge against choso kamo's neck. it would be so easy, and well, it would be fair too. you could claim self-defence too, for had the sorcerer killer not arrived to take your life?
but fate has a funny way of doing things, for there's a hazy smile playing across your lips, fingers twisting into loose strands of dark hair that fall to choso's shoulders, gasping as he rickets his hips into you, greedy as his cock drills you against the damp alley-wall.
"you're not t-that good at y'job, are ya'?" you're teasing, gasping as you can feel every inch of choso's thick shaft pressing disorderly pecks against your cervix, deeper than you really thought possible. and god, the assassin looks ruined. how ironic that you were the one who took him out instead, with nary a weapon but the one that he loved between your thighs.
the taller man's groaning, amber eyes misty, squeezing shut as dark lashes flutter across pale, blotchy skin like brush strokes on an oil canvas. "s'good, oh, f-fuck," choso's lips bloom a pretty shade of bruised pink, "yer' killing me, baby."
he's jerking his head back, partly from the sheer pleasure running through his veins, and partly due to your nails bestowing a harsher, tighter tug to the back of his head. it's got him sheepishly giggling, utterly pussydrunk on you, "sorry, bad choice of words, huh?"
whatever retort was blooming on your open lips falls apart when you feel the cherry head of choso's cock punch at you, pistoning slick smears of pre against your sweet spot, hot and heavy. he's filling you up in the most delicious way imaginable, and you take the moment to run your hands over his back. over the tight top that clings to his build like a second skin, melded into the ashen pallor of his bulging upper arms.
choso's effortlessly got you poised on one arm, jostling and cursing as his fingers loop around thick, coiled chains dangling from the spear strapped to his back. he's fumbling for a split second, throwing the weapon on the ground with little care, all so he can hold you better. cold fingers pressing against your mouth, a waiting command for you to wrap your tongue around the tip of his finger. tasting yourself, from when you had first guided his hand to the apex of your thighs.
"c-close?" choso murmurs, questioning and chasing after your lolling tongue, looking equally wrecked, as he slams the very last of his inches into you. bottoming out with a thick, sticky pop! the final push has him hitting the perfect spot to make you writhe and squirm. sealing him into a kiss this time to muffle the whine that threatens to erupt from you.
knowing that that choso's got you pinned to the wall of an alley in one of the most run-down districts of the city, where none travel save for ill intentions, and yet, anyone could still turn the corner and see exactly where the base of choso's cock meets your hips in clingy slaps of arousal and pre swirled up together.
"the f-first time i've never been able to finish the job, heh," choso muses, his tone almost gentle despite the mean way that he's delving into your walls, "don't think i can face m'boss after this, tch', o-ouh, fuck," choso's leaning into the crook of your neck, sinking pointed canines into soft skin. leaving marks that will surely bruise and bloom in shades of deep violet, when he separates his tacking, syrupy lips from the juncture of your swan-arch.
you groan, unabashed, when choso stills for a second and bestows you with a heady kiss, all before plunging right back in to you, "who would have thought i would be the o-one to bring the sorcerer killer to his k-knees?"
choso's giving you a half-lidded, lazy look, flushing a brilliant shade of blossom-pink, as though he's got all the time in the world, smoothly dragging his hand down further until its patting at your mound, "p-patience, i'll give ya', that too."
TOJI FUSHIGURO áč. the office worker
"oh, it's you." that was your disappointed, flat intone when toji fushiguro pushed through the elevator doors after you, earlier that day. the man was the office's terminal underachiever, barely even showing up on the clock, but it was hard to complain when he proved such a delicious sight for the eyes in a rumpled black dress-shirt, rolled up to reveal glorious thick forearms dusted with faint, dark hair.
"oh, it's t-too big, toji!" and that's how you somehow ended up, practically pressed flat into the most brutal, nasty mating press in the backseat of your car. toji's large hands splayed across your thighs, legs achingly hooked over his bent form â but the ache between your legs was far more pleasurable. glossy strands of slick snapping and clinging to your skin where his thighs snapped against yours, steady at a pace that wouldn't rattle your isolated car too much in the basement lot.
"didn't think i was gon' show up today, doll?" toji groans, slowly bucking his sharp hips forward so every inch of his cock explores the walls of your pretty, pretty pussy. "that's why y'were flirtin' with that stupid â" the man's muffling back a heavy moan, "that stupid worker on the s-second floor?"
you're not quite sure how toji manages to do it. defying the laws of physics and matter to somehow reach in between the two of you, to slap around the treacly mess gathered at your pressed groins. toji's circling your throbbing clit in faux pity, all as you heave, "you're jealous? t-that's what this is, hah?"
toji's jade, sharp eyes narrow as though he's hesitant to put a name to the emotion, settling to roll and pinch at your swollen bud, hoping that you can feel every vein and fold of skin rummaging through your syrupy cunt, "n-no." but the quake in his voice gives him so brutally away, and it has you grinning. pulling toji fushiguro down for a clash of your lips against his, so that rough scar brushes against your skin, twitching almost as though toji's smiling into the kiss. what a bastard, you hate how he's ensnared you.
you hiss, pulling at soft, silky strands of raven hair, "keep it down, fushiguro â" heart racing with every ricketing motion of your poor car, swaying back and forth, tucked away in this dim little corner of the office basement lot, "s-someone could see, could fire us, hnghh', b-both."
it's clear that toji fushiguro doesn't quite share your concerns, that shark-like grin beaming in brilliant ivory, nipping at your neck, tugging the corners of your blouse with his teeth, "someone, as in â fuck, ya' got a killer grip, doll. someone, like that fucker on the second floor?"
you roll drenched hips further into toji's abdomen, feeling dark hairs tickled at the very lowest base of your own groin, "if ya' wanna be exclusive, t-toji, just say so." head thrown back for toji to bestow heated kisses all along the expanse of bared skin, tossing your employee lanyard aside.
toji punctuates his answer with a sharp tack of his hips against your clit, "yeah. exclusive, you n' me, doll." the burly man must be close for he's flushing, babbling at you as though you're undoing every stitch holding his slacks (and sanity) together, "i'd do a-anything. clean up my act for ya', show up every day jus' to see that pretty fuckin' face."
your own hazy, shaking climax washes over you, just as toji stills, pumping rope after rope of translucent, creamy cum right into you. creating an awful, sticky mess that leaves you writhing, panting toji's name into his open mouth, "do all that, f-fushiguro, and y'can have me in any way you want."
GETO SUGURU áč. the death painting
"please," the half-curse is whining now, prattling as you run hands over the dark, cotton robes that envelop him, "dunno' what this is, but it feels so â"
you're cooing, pressing soft and slick kisses to the corner of geto's pink mouth, "feels good, suguru? i guess you could say, hmm," running nails through the dark, silky strands of the death painting's hair, "you could say it's pleasurable, right?"
geto's nodding, adam's apple bobbing as his peach-fine features flush the most beautiful shade of crimson. looking nothing like the hardened warrior with an arsenal of special-grade curses, those of his own blood, at his side. he looks positively ruined, and you can feel the curve of his bulge underneath your teasing hands, running softly over the clothed shaft in the most innocuous way possible.
"can you, ouh â" geto stutters when your lips press a searing kiss into the throbbing vein on his creamy neck, where his shaky pulse jumps in staccato, "touch it? feels s-so good, love."
you're batting your lashes, tilting your head as though you have no idea about the effect you hold over the half-curse, "what? touch, oh!" slipping your hand past the band of his loose pants, underneath the deep violet fabric cinched at his waist, "here?"
resting your hand against the very base of his abdomen, right above where he craves you most. geto's bucking his hips up desperately, hoping that you'll get the hint and move past where you've hovering, right over a thatch of raven-curls.
you thinly smile, feeling the heat of his skin sear into you, before you've even touched his muscular, broad thighs. to think that you've got quite the warrior begging underneath you, well, it's got your own thighs damply clenched together. but that's a lesson for another day, for today, you want to see geto suguru gasping in your hold.
"hmm, suguru, y'know you've gotta' be a bit more specific," your nails run dangerously against his shaft, and you won't admit this to him yet, but the sheer length is making you gulp. all before you've even laid eyes on the magnificent inches that he's packing away underneath his robes, "do y'trust me, sugu'?"
geto nods, quickly and sharply, already shivering from your touch, "of c-course, 'course, i trust you." and the admission makes your pussy flutter, the idea of having this girth packed in you, drilling into you until the two of you see stars.
you press another gentle kiss to the corner of his lips again, reaching up to free his hair from the clingy knot resting on the back of his head. marvelling as ink-dark hair pools in sleek swathes, falling to his waist, giggling as geto chases after your lips, "hah, 'm gonna make you feel so good, baby."
you gently tug his robes to the side, revealing an expanse of chiselled skin, and clear-cut muscle. giving geto a coy look as you pull out his weighty, hot shaft, searing in your hands. it's just as pretty and big as he is, crowned with an angry-red head that seems to throb and pulse in your grasp.
"fuck," geto gasps, already looking drunken from your touch, "keep doing t-that, don't stop that, please." he's addicted to the way that your fist starts gently pumping him, slowly applying more pressure as you move from base to tip. dipping your tongue to taste the first, clear drops of pre that have already escaped.
you clearly didn't account for the physiology of those with cursed blood in their veins, for geto's already making a mess. you're certain that barely no time has passed at all, but there's already slick, gooey strands painting your hand. creating loud squelches as you roll your fist, thumb pausing to flit at his weeping slit.
"hey, suguru," you're murmuring, experimentally parting your lips over his bulging tip, "what would happen if i â"
you get your answer when you're barely enveloped his shaft, thick wads of stringy cum exploding out in glossy torrents, painting your chin in slow, clingy drips of geto's seed. geto, who's twitching and flushed in your hold, ears beaming red as he gnaws at his lower lip, "baby, you shoulda', fuck, should have warned me." pausing to give you a shy look, "wanna' try again?"
RYOMEN SUKUNA áč. the strongest
"what the fuck was that?" you've never quite seen sukuna like this, this furious. this loss of composure just didn't quite suit ryomen sukuna, the strongest sorcerer that walks the earth in this day and age (though, rumours say that he may even hold a candle against gojo satoru, the famed king of curses).
over a decade you've known the gruff man, graduated alongside him, worked and fought alongside him at jujutsu tech, and yet you've never, ever seen sukuna as he is now. not even when itadori yuuji broke his favourite mug before class.
he's blinking crimson eyes in some sorta' haze, dark lashes fluttering as his mouth hovers an inch away from yours. you're not sure what sort of lecture this is, but the throbbing in your groin is a dead giveaway that you don't mind.
a large hand is resting on the nape of your neck, as though sukuna's not sure whether to pull you away or towards him, numerous silver piercing clinking as he shakes his head, "what did i say to ya' earlier, hmm?"
"erm..." no, not your best work.
but it's truly hard to focus when sukuna looks this good, painted in the evening light that filters through the window of the abandoned classroom, long after the students have retired. toned, deceptively fierce arms pushing against the navy jujutsu uniform, rose-pink hair mussed â no thanks to that special grade that was giving the two of you a hard time not so long ago.
he's pushing closer against you, and you're catching that scent, intoxicating and heady, "wasn't a rhetorical question, woman. didn't i tell ya' one important thing?"
you realise how easy it would be to wrap a leg around his slender waist, to pull the tall man in against the two of you were pressed flat against the desk but you tamp the lecherous thoughts down, time and place, yeah? "you said...," you falter, wandering if it's worth tilting your head to brush your lips against the man, "y'said not to get in the way."
sukuna's long fingers are curling at the shell of your ear, running over a stray strand of hair that's come undone in the earlier scuffle, "mhm, good girl. and what did ya' do, then? when i was busy using dismantle n' cleave?"
you sigh, already feeling sukuna's temper roll off him in waves, "yes, i got in the way," intoning flatly, looking anywhere but the concentric rings in sukuna's eyes, "look, if you're gonna' chew me out, can you make it quick? i ended up you helpin' anyway, and i dunno' why you're so pressed about â"
sukuna presses his lips to yours, effectively shutting you up in a kiss that leaves you whimpering, moaning at the desire (and something else that you know sukuna's gonna have a hard time naming) that erupts. bruising lips meeting yours with a fierce urgency, teeth scraping, and hands pulling your own uniform to the side, as though sukuna may lay down his life if he doesn't get to feel you this close to him.
sukuna's muffling something into the kiss, calling you senseless (well, hey! not true) and oblivious (maybe) and gorgeous (true enough, that's fair). you're not sure when his large, tattooed hand managed to pry its way up to your thighs, but you gasp at the feeling of your suddenly drenched panties being torn off with little bravado. sukuna's grinning, all sharp fangs, as he tucks them away into his uniform pocket.
"fuck me." you're groaning, gasping at his thumb hooks over your clit, rubbing hot, tight circles into your most sensitive spot. you're not sure if it's exasperation or a plea colouring your words, but sukuna seems pleased, quirking a brow, "yeah? that's what you want? think it'll get ya' off the hook?"
"please fuck me," you correct yourself, reaching for the metal buckle at sukuna's hips, fulfilling that vision of hooking sukuna in. rocking him closer to your bare, dripping core so he can align his fat, heavy tip against your glistening entrance.
your eyes flit down to the very base of his cocks, where coarse, pink hair teases your flesh, and â oh. sukuna's tracking your line of sight, flushing when he sees your eyes widen, taking in the dark, tattooed ring encircling the base of his shaft.
"don't ask," sukuna grunts, ears flaming red as you giggle, nipping at your ear, "hold on f'me now, can ya' follow that instruction, at least?" the man truly thinks he may lose it, right then and there, watching how your puffy folds bulge around the head of his cock. how it's you, the woman that he's been in love with for ten years, giving him a dazed, lopsided smile when he finally, finally slides it in.
"fuuuck," sukuna groans, pale-pink hair tickling at your forehead as he leans in, "yer' taking me well, heh. not too big for ya'?" he's grinning, even when you swat a droopy hand at him, clenching hard around his girth, "don't flatter yourself."
but it's only when he starts rocking his hips back and forth, imprinting his cock right against your walls, that sukuna begins to lose his mind, losing all sense of other duties and responsibilities. thoughts of the report that he has to submit to the fuckass higher ups, the quizzes he has to grade for the dumb, little first years, oh god, the bills he has to pay. poof! gone, vanquished by the sticky-sweet hold of your intoxicating cunt.
"wanted this for sooo long, woman," sukuna grunts, "you got no idea, wanted you," he punctuates his words with a sharp tack of his hips, "only you. always you, only one for me, heh. i'd take out anyone who says otherwise." and your sweet, pretty whimpers in his ear only make him all the more desperate, ready to slam bullseye on that sweet spot. thank god, classes are over for the day and the campus is empty, for he's got you allll to himself now.
#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#geto suguru smut#toji fushiguro x reader#toji fushiguro smut#choso kamo x reader#choso kamo smut#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento smut#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x reader#sukuna smut#daphworks#gojo satoru#toji fushiguro#sukuna
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"Waking Up in Vegas"
Prologue, Chapter one:, Chapter 2,Chapter 3, Chapter 4:
ok guys! we're back and reader's hot girl summer has started! Sorry I was gonna put this chapter out earlier today but i've just been so busy today plus i'm cooking up a 3rd part for "older" I got my period AND i have a math test and english essay coming up. If some parts don't make sense, its on purpose. Reader is disoriented and drunk half the time, the days blur together for her. Lmk what yall think of readers hot girl summer and what you want/think will happen in the next chapter .Sorry for any mistakes! Comments, reblogs and ASKS make my dayyyy and encourage me.
Saint-Tropez wasnât just a place, it was a playground, a haven for those who didnât care about consequences or anyone elseâs rules.
And you? Well, you were done with rules.
For the last two weeks, youâd been living like this, untouchable, free, and completely lying to your family.
You had told Bruce you were staying with Ariel and her father, which was true, for the first two days anyway.
Ariel's father is a busy man, he couldn't take 2 and a half months off work to babysit two 16 year olds who would do what they wanted anyway. As soon as he left, Ariel began calling your two other close friends, Claire and Rory. Together, all four of you were unstoppable at school though it was an unspoken rule that you and Ariel were the dynamic duo. All four of you stayed in Ariel's ocean front villa, relaxing, tanning, and just getting settled.
God, let's not even start on how drastically everything changed while you were at boarding school and the family found out Tiffany's true colors. They were all so.....protective now. You got calls everyday, from each of your 'siblings' separately, dozens of texts asking you what you ate, who you were with, and what you were doing. You didn't entertain them. The only person you replied to was Bruce, and that's only because you knew if he wanted to, he could call off this whole trip.
You didn't answer Tim's random, vague questions like, "Who's that on your story? Do you know them? Are you sure they're safe to be with?" He was asking about a simple sunset dinner picture you posted with Ariel, so you blocked him. He's way too nosy.
You didn't reply to the groupchat the girls, Barbra, Steph, and Cass added you in called "The girls!!"
What a creative name!
You left after you saw 'Tiffany was removed from this conversation'. Maybe you were being petty but they obviously had this chat before and didn't bother to add you to it before Tiffany was exposed. It was your turn to ignore them.
You definitely didn't reply to Damian's outright threatening messages that he sent almost every other day, they all sounded something along the lines of "You will regret this. You cannot simply leave and run away from your family. Come home or else."
He's such a strange little boy, he spoke and acted like an angry Victorian prince. He texted you like you were close before, like it wasn't him who pushed you away. You were coming back in two months and yet he acted like ran away and changed your name.
Jason, Bruce, and Dick were the most consistent and annoying, in that order exactly.
Jason texted you every morning at 8 and every night 11, like clockwork. His texts were daily updates what he was planning on doing that day, asking you the same, and reminding you that he's sorry and that he loves you. It tugged at your heart not to answer him, and sometimes, you gave in and you could feel the joy in his response when you replied. You and Jason's conversations went like this, on the odd occasion you replied,
"Good morning." - Jason
"How are you? No trouble in paradise I hope."- Jason
"My days gonna be pretty dull today, nothing much except patrol. Might go to that bookstore you used to like." - Jason
Your cold heart would melt when he said things like that and you would reply,
"awww! jason, thats so sweet." and follow with "I'm good!! how bout you??? staying out of trouble?"
Jason was your softest spot and he knew it.
Bruce texted you three times a day. Morning, afternoon, and evening. His messages were dry and authorative, demanding answers. He wanted to know who you were with, what you were doing, if you left the house, and if you were okay. The fatherly care and authority isn't something your used to, it was strange. You weren't sure if you felt cared for or suffocated. You answered Bruce once a day, your tone straight to the point, answering only what he asked, nothing more.
Dick is by far the worst. He texted you constantly, as if trying to make up for 11 years of not texting you at all. He texted you when he woke up, when he slept, when he ate, what he ate, and sent you pictures of everything. Once he sent you a picture of a tiny bird saying it reminded him of you. You nearly blocked him after that, the only reason you didn't was because you liked how desperate he was. Not long ago, it was you spamming him like that. Plus he can be funny most of the time. You don't even want to think of the constant selfies he sent. You only ever replied once.
Dick sent a selfie of him hanging with some of the Titans, you forgot why or what he said along with it, but you do remember seeing Connor Kent shirtless in the background. You giggled and showed Ariel how hot he is. You replied to Dick almost instantly hearting the picture, screen shotting it, and drawing a heart around Connor saying something like, "WHO DAT IN THE BACK????" and "Tell superboy to hmu".
Dick was not happy about that, that was the last group selfie he ever sent. He got more frequent with his texts after that. He must've snitched to Jason because not even five minutes after you got a text from him.
"Remember what I said. No boys, i'll kick his ass." - Jason
You ignored him of course.
The sun beat down in the south of France, but you were far from concerned with the blistering heat. Not when there was a private yacht at your disposal, a poolside filled with strangers and familiar faces alike, and the soundtrack of Drake keeping your pulse racing. You felt the vibration of your phone against your palm for the third time in ten minutes. Another text from Bruce. He was becoming more insistent you answer him the longer you were gone. It's only been two weeks! Another "where are you?" or "be careful." As if you were gonna listen. Or reply to him.
Bruce. The man who'd ignored you for the better part of your life, suddenly acting like a worried father because Tiffany, the perfect sister, had betrayed them all. Tiffany, the adopted daughter who had somehow replaced you in their world. Now, she was the enemy, the traitor, the spy, and she was gone. That meant you had all the freedom you could ever want.
The more you thought about Tiffany the angrier you got. She had everything. How many summers has she spent on yatchs partying? How many times has she blown thousands of Bruce's dollars? Why were you forgiving them so easily? Why were you even listening to him?
Just because he apologized and said he'd change?
Why should you forgive Jason so easily and respect his rules, he ignored you for years and replaced you with Tiffany. The more you drank, the more you thought and the angrier you got. Who do they think they are? You've always been too nice, too obedient, and they're still taking advantage of it. You'd show them, show them what its like to be ignored and forgotten and made fun of.
For the next two months, you were going to ignore them. Bruce and jason included. You've been too nice, too good these two weeks, your friends were begging to party but you didn't want to, you were scared of disappointing them.
You were so angry nothing changed in you that you finally caved and decided to do what Claire and Rory were doing, give your phone to a worker here and have them turn the location on and send updates to Bruce. You still used the same icloud so you could read their messages and make sure they weren't suspicous.
He'd think you were always at the villa or just going into town, they won't know what hit them.
You turn to Ariel and grin, "I'm free. What are we doing tonight?" You were done obeying their rules and living your life for them. Who knows when you'd be alone in Europe with your best friends again.
Ariel hopped off her chair and squealed, her dark skin glowing from the sun, she grabbed you and twirled you around, your giggles echoing through the yacht and drawing Claire and Rory's attention.
Ariel grinned and explained to Rory and Claire, "Little Miss good girl finally came to her senses and went M.I.A with her dad. Now we can finally party! Hot girl summer starts now."
All three girls start squealing and join Ariel in her celebration.
You rolled your eyes feeling guilty, "I told you, you could've gone without me!"
Ariel wrapped her arm around you, "Nonsense, it's not a party without you. Now, come on we gotta go shopping if we're going out tonight. It's lucky that we both have daddy's black cards. It's really lucky that they have Dior, Hermes, and YSL down the street."
You weren't sure how much you spent and the drinks kept you from feeling guilty. Bruce is like, a bajilionaire, what you spent won't make a dent.
Somehow, you ended up on an even bigger yacht filled with guys, in your brand new Dior bikini with a matching bag.
By the time night fell, the yacht was buzzing, the VIP lounge overrun by people who hadnât even been invited. The bass was so loud you felt it in your bones. You didnât care. You've never felt so alive.
Your new phone wasn't getting any messages except DMs, and the woman you hired confirming Bruce thought you were sound asleep in the villa.
You can practically taste the summer air as you step onto the deck of the boat, laughing with Ariel and your friends and the others youâve met along the way. No one cares about where youâve been, where youâre going, or who your family is.
As the DJ cranks up the volume, a cute guy with long blonde hair catches your eye. You wink at him and saunter over. This summer is all about freedom, and youâre ready for it. His hands are already on your waist, pulling you close, and suddenly youâre lost in the rhythm, spinning and laughing, his lips brushing against your ear.
The night wears on, you drink more, laugh louder, flirt harder. The yacht turns into a blur of lights, drinks, and music. As midnight rolls around, the party shows no signs of slowing. You could stay here forever, with no rules but your own.
But then it happens. You wake up in a completely different city.
London.
Youâre sprawled on a plush couch in a ridiculously luxurious flat, a half-empty bottle of champagne next to you. The room smells like expensive perfume, and the decor is all sleek lines and minimalist chic. You sit up slowly, your head pounding from last night.
You sit up straighter, rubbing your eyes.You vaguely remember a private jet, but itâs all blurry. One moment, you were on the deck of the yacht, living it up, and the next, you're waking up in an entirely new country.
You look around the room in panic and spot Ariel sleeping on the couch and a random guy, butt naked on the floor next to her. You sigh in relief at Ariel being okay and the fact you weren't kidnapped.
Thereâs a knock at the room door, and when you answer, it's a random guy from last night, British accent, disheveled hair, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. He grins at you sheepishly. âHey, you good?ïżœïżœ
You, Ariel, the naked boy named Christian, and the Brit named Thomas, have breakfast and exchange stories of what you remember from last night. It was fun, but you and Ariel flew back to St. Tropez where a jealous Claire and a worried Rory were waiting.
Last night was fun, but it couldn't happen again. It was dangerous and if anything happened Bruce wouldn't know.
Except it did happen again, and again, all summer long.
The next weeks were a blur, Venice, Monaco, and Madrid, with stops in Dubai and Los Angeles along the way. Each city more vibrant and intoxicating than the last. Every place you went, you had the freedom to be whoever you wanted to be. There was always a fresh crop of people, and you reveled in not having to answer to anyone. No father, no brothers, no sisters, just you and your friends against the world.
You and Ariel lived your lives like you were gonna die tomorrow. You were unstoppable, no family, no rules, no responsibility. Your abilities weren't acting up at all, everything was perfect. Bruce and the family were off your back, being made to think you were at the villa all day.
The âNo Boys Ruleâ was completely disregarded, though. It seemed that whenever you let your guard down for just a moment, youâd end up surrounded by someone new. Whether it was a guy from a club in Monaco or a guy you met on a private yacht in Venice, you were always finding someone new
Despite all the parties, the alcohol, and the private Instagram posts, and funny Tik Toks, there was still a growing sense that you werenât living this life for you, you were living it for the rebellion, to spite Bruce.
It wasnât just about freedom anymore. It was about finally being seen, even if that meant drifting away from everyone you once called family.
You only had one month left of absolute freedom, and you were gonna make the most of it. With Ariel, Rory, and Claire by your side, you partied in just about every city.
The final month of your wild European escapade had arrived, and things were only getting wilder.
The clock had no meaning anymore. Days and nights blended into each other as you danced from one city to the next, your world a whirlwind of music, champagne, and endless laughter. Ariel, Rory, and Claire had become your partners in crime, literally when you got arrested, but thats not important.
Each morning you woke up in a new place, groggy and confused, only to remember the night beforeâflashing lights, pounding beats, and the promise of more. Cannes, Monte Carlo, Paris, or Dubai, it didnât matter. What mattered was the freedom youâd found in them, and in yourself. You were more than the neglected, ignored girl from Gotham; now, you were the life of the party.
there was always someone waiting to whisk you away to the next nightclub, the next gala, the next beach party where the worldâs richest men tried to get your attention.
First, it was Paris. You could feel the eyes on you as soon as you entered the hotel lobby. The air smelled of expensive perfume, freshly polished marble, and the faintest trace of guilt, because in some corner of your mind, you could still hear Bruceâs voice echoing in your ears. But it quickly faded as the first private yacht rolled up to the dock. The deck was crowded with Parisian socialites and half-drunk billionaires, but it wasnât about the crowd, it was about the feeling of being wanted. Being worshipped.
It was in Paris that you really started feeling the distance between you and the life youâd left behind. The champagne flowed easily, the laughter came effortlessly, but there was an ache you hadnât anticipated. A pang that struck at the edges of your satisfaction, the kind you couldnât drink away.
You thought about Bruce. His pleading words, his desperation, and how, for a moment, you almost felt sorry for him. But only for a moment. You couldnât let him win. Couldnât let them see that youâd needed them. Because that would mean giving up everything you had now, the freedom, the endless nights, the city hopping, the boys who adored you.
You let it all sink in, just for a second, how much control you had over them now. How much they wanted you back, how much they needed you back. It felt good, knowing that you could walk away and have them chase after you, like you used to chase them.
Maybe it was the brief, fleeting moments when you thought about Gotham, about Bruce, about your family, and how none of it felt real anymore. Theyâd played their games, ignored you, and now it was your turn.
Meanwhile, your phone was a constant buzz of messages. Tim had sent at least five texts, each one more urgent than the last. Jason called twice, his voice sharp and filled with that annoying overprotectiveness he just developed. And Bruce⊠well, Bruce sent you one long, pleading message, something about understanding, about giving him another chance, and answering his calls. You didnât even bother reading it all. You didnât need to. You didnât care enough to respond.
You had no intention of being tied down by anyone, but when a French prince with dark, tousled hair and eyes that burned through your soul offered you a glass of champagne and a seat next to him, you took it.
You didnât even have to look for him, he found you. He was the one with the perfect jawline, the one who could be a model if he wasnât already a prince. His eyes, blue locked onto yours the second you entered the VIP area. A raised brow, a subtle smirk, and you knew that for tonight, he was yours.
You didnât speak much. He didnât ask questions, and that was the kind of energy you craved. A few words, some flirting, fleeting touches, and then you were in his Lambo, the leather seats smooth under your skin as the city sped by. He went as fast as you wanted, loving the thrill and impressed look in your eyes.
The thrill was intoxicating, the feeling of being someone else, someone free. The kind of person who didnât have to answer to anyone. A few hours later, you were standing on a balcony, watching the sunrise, your lips tingling from the kiss heâd stolen.
Your mind was a haze of laughter and the aftertaste of expensive whiskey. The view of the French Riviera was far too beautiful to appreciate right now, and your thoughts wandered back to Gotham, to the family youâd abandoned, the ones who had never cared for you.
But as the days wore on, it was harder to ignore the hollow feeling creeping in. The message from Dick, the one where he told you that he loved you, stayed in your mind longer than it should have. You told yourself it didnât matter. You didnât owe him anything. But you couldnât help but wonder, just for a second, what it would have been like if things were different.
You turned away from those thoughts quickly. You couldnât afford to get attached. Not now. Not when you were on the verge of something bigger. The freedom you had now was everything you wanted. No one could take that from you.
You couldnât let them control you. You wouldnât let them.
You and Ariel were inseparable now, pulling Claire and Rory into your whirlwind of recklessness. You all had your roles, Ariel was the carefree partier, Claire the quiet one who always managed to keep ya'll out of trouble, and Rory was the one always ready with a camera and a new Tik Tok idea. You were the star, the one they all gravitated toward.
Each day was a new city, a new set of challenges, a new set of eyes who wanted to be close to you. You knew the game, knew how to play it. You knew how to keep them guessing, how to make them want you more.
So, you danced. You partied. You lived in the moment and let your life spiral further from Gothamâs grasp.
From there, it was off to the next city.
Las Vegas; Sin City, there was no place like it. You couldnât even remember how you got there, your mind fuzzy with a mix of adrenaline and whatever was in that last glass of tequila. The strip was lit up like daylight, people everywhere, the air thick with smoke and the sound of slot machines ringing through the night.
You woke up in a penthouse suite that could have been mistaken for an entire floor of the Bellagio, the morning sunlight filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. And there he was, a prince. The same French prince, draped in a robe embroidered with gold thread, a fresh glass of mimosas on the table beside him. He was smirking, lounging on the couch like this was all part of his daily routine. You couldnât even remember how you got to the suite. What had happened between the bar and now? You didnât care.
He didnât seem to care either, his hand casually tracing the rim of his glass, his eyes never leaving you. You laughed, feeling the surrealness of it all wash over you, the weight of your last 48 hours in Ibiza and Monaco still fresh on your skin. One minute, you were dancing at a celebrityâs secret after-party in Monaco, and the next, you were here, on the other side of the world with some mysterious prince who had probably already forgotten your name.
The rest of the night was spent taking private jet rides to exclusive clubs, partying with people whose names you couldnât even pronounce, and waking up to the flashing lights of a casino floor. Vegas was the kind of place where everything felt fake, but that didnât matter. You really are Brucie Wayne's daughter.
Next stop, Ibiza, the heart of Europeâs clubbing scene. Ariel and you slipped into the club, stepping past the velvet ropes like it was second nature. The security guard practically bowed as you walked by. The crowd parted for you, the clinking of champagne glasses and the hum of expensive conversations filling the air.
This was where you belonged. The heat of the island, the night that stretched into forever. You and Ariel danced on top of the table at Pacha, popping bottles like they were nothing, the music vibrating in your bones, the crowd chanting your name like you were the star of the show. It was your second night there, and you had already met a Spanish duke who was more interested in buying you a yacht than actually getting to know you. There was white powder everywhere, tempting you to try but you didn't give in. Who knows what could be in it. Your friends and most people at the club didn't share the same idea.
You just wanted to enjoy the view and keep the party going but you were worried, maybe this was too much.
âweâve got to live for the moment,â Ariel grinned, taking a shot of something that made her eyes water. âWho cares if weâre in a foreign country surrounded by dangerous people? Itâs the best kind of chaos. When else are we gonna do this?â
Somehow you ended up on a private yacht again, this time surrounded by Ibizaâs elite. You werenât sure how many shots of tequila youâd had, but you knew that the man at your side had given you a diamond bracelet to match your dress. You accepted with a grin asking him to put it on for you, your hair wild, your makeup smudged from hours of dancing, but it didnât matter. You were untouchable.
It was getting close to 3 AM, and the music hadnât stopped. The drinks kept flowing, and the Dukeâs yacht you somehow ended up on was finally leaving the dock. You couldnât remember how you ended up on the boat, but you were there now, floating on a million-dollar boat with peopl youâd only seen on TV. One of the men from the night before was already making eye contact, his glass of sangria in hand.
It was hard to be shy in a setting like this. Rory, whoâd never been afraid of attention, was deep in conversation with a couple of supermodels who were likely on their third or fourth drink. Claire was wrapped up in a flirtation with the duke who owned this yacht, and Arie was in her own world, laughing with a group of guys who were definitely not short on cash.
The next morning, you woke up on the yacht, the sun blazing over the Mediterranean. You stretched lazily, your body still buzzing from the night before, and found yourself face-to-face with the man from last night.
He smirked, âCare for another round?â he asked, his accent thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the boat providing an oddly peaceful background.
You laughed and agreed. It was all so easy, this life. This endless, carefree abandon. No rules, no family to answer to, no obligations. It was just you, your friends, and a bunch of gorgeous strangers who only saw you for the party girl you had become. And for now, that was enough.
Next, Monaco, the grandest of them all. You didnât just go to Monaco, you ruled it. You, Ariel, Claire and Rory crashing the most exclusive gala in the world; rich industrialists, F1 drivers ,tech moguls, the faces that appeared on the front of every magazine. But to you, it was just another game to play. Every conversation was a carefully curated performance, everyone vying for your attention, for your approval.
The days blurred together. Each city more beautiful, each party more decadent than the last. Monaco was wild, filled with the worldâs elite and their very bored children. The private yacht parties were nothing short of a movie set, jet skis, champagne, drugs, and the sun beating down relentlessly. The thrill of it all never left, and every night you found a new billionaire, actor, or race car driver to distract you. It wasnât about them, not really, it was about keeping the power in your hands, it was about feeling good. Taking away the pain that came with your powers, fortunately, men were jumping into your bed.
You didnât even have to try. One wink, one smile, and suddenly you were in a Bentley, whisked away to a private after-party in a hidden corner of Monacoâs coastline. The prince of some oil-rich kingdom was at your side, and the night was long, filled with laughter and stolen kisses under the stars. You didnât care what his name was, where he came from, or who he was, he was just another prince who could buy you anything you wanted.
You met guy, almost as rich as Bruce, who you beat at poker, he was more than happy to throw a yacht party in your honor. The invitation was clear: âCome party with us. No rules. No limits.â
Ariel had already decided to make a game of seeing how many men she could flirt before sunset, while Rory was doing her usual thing, charming people with her wit. You, on the other hand, had become the center of attention, as if the whole event was designed around you. You couldnât remember the last time youâd had a conversation that didnât involve someone trying to buy you a drink, or a private island.
As the weeks stretched on, you could barely keep track of all the cities you had visited. You spent one night in Berlin, dancing until dawn in one of the cityâs most infamous clubs. The next, you were in Milan, draped in designer clothing and laughing with the most influential fashion people in the world. Every day felt like a new chapter, filled with new people, new parties, and a new sense of power.
It was intoxicating. Everyone loved you here, you were the life of every party. You had so many friends, you'd never be alone again.
There was something so exhilarating about being surrounded by people who knew your last name, who were used to rubbing elbows with people like Bruce Wayne, but didnât realize you were his daughter.
You felt it in your bones now, the distance between you and Gotham was growing wider. The weight of the past, the guilt that had once threatened to crush you, was nothing more than a distant memory. Each city, each new face, each new party was a reminder that you didnât need them. You didnât need anyone.
But deep down, something shifted. Maybe it was the late-night conversations with Ariel on the balcony of a villa in Santorini, the wine flowing freely as you discussed the future, her dreams, your dreams, how youâd never go back to the way things were. Maybe it was the quiet moments alone on the edge of some private infinity pool, staring out at a horizon that seemed endless and just⊠empty.
You didnât know when you started to feel it, but you knew one thing for sure: when you finally did come back to Gotham, you werenât going to be the same person who had left.
The Final Stop, St. Tropez. You did a full circle. Your last hurrah before you returned home, or where your family assumed you were all this time. The private beach parties, the yachts that lined the harbor, the whispers of billionaires in their private jets. You danced in the sand, surrounded by flashes from cameras and jealous glares from women who had no idea who you were, but wanted to be you all the same.
A private villa awaited you, and there, amidst the most extravagant décor, you found yourself facing yet another prince, yet another man eager to claim you as his own.
You turned to find a princeâprobably from denmarkâstanding next to you. You immediately recognized his face from magazines. He was the one who was always pictured at galas with his equally famous family. He was beautiful, dark-haired and dangerous, with a body like chiseled stone. But the only thing you could think about was how long it would take before you got bored of him, before you moved on to the next.
His thick accented voice cut through your thoughts, "Well, if it isn't the infamous party girl." He smirked eyeing you up and down.
"Oh, so you've heard of me" You said smiling. You had no idea how he knew you, all your socials were private and theres no way you had mutual friends. You froze for a second, just how far has your reputation proceeded you, did Bruce hear?
You brushed the thought away as soon as it came, Bruce didn't exist. Not tonight, your last actual night of freedom. Not when you were boarding the flight to gotham after tomorrow.
"Hard not to. You've been everywhere. Paris, London, Ibiza, Monaco, Dubai, Vegas. You're practically the princess of Europe." He grinned leaning closer.
After two months you were finally starting to feel the rush of it all catching up to you. But for now? Who cared? You were a 16-year-old filled with confidence, chaos, and fun. The world was yours, and there was no one who could stop you, least of all, your father, who were still clueless about your whereabouts and secretly obsessing over your every move. You were too busy living in the moment to care about that.
You were officially the European Party Girl, the one everyone wanted to be friends with, the one they all wanted to take selfies with.
Ariel once called you a prince magnet, she wasn't wrong. You woke up next to him the next morning, his strong arms around your waist.
When you went back to Gotham, you werenât just going to show up. You were going to treat them like they treated you all these years, you were going to laugh in their faces, ignore them like they ignored you.
As you and Ariel spent your last night together packing, you couldn't help but smile. In these two months with her, you lived more than you had in your entire life.
When you boarded the plane back to Gotham, you were different. You were someone new, someone who had tasted freedom and wasnât sure if she could ever go back. The Waynes had no idea what was coming for them, but you were ready. The game had shifted, and you were about to play it all the way to the end.
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- What Is Your Word Of The Day?
Manon Bannerman x 7 member!reader (request)
"The taste of victory is good, but don't celebrate too loudlyâÂ
Genre â fluff         Warnings â noneÂ
Now playing â Perfect Night, by Le SserafimÂ
The night was calm, all the Kats were spread out comfortably in the living room. Sophia, Yoonchae and Megan were watching some movie on television, Lara and Daniela were gossiping about someone you didn't know very well, and Manon, your girlfriend, was listening to all the conversation of yours while stroking your hair. You all didn't have many days off, but when you did, you made it all worth it. The day off was a day with no stress, no complaints and no headache, you unfortunately, were going down a different path.
A few weeks ago, you discovered this word game called Daily Wordle, and you immediately became obsessed with it. You had X number of attempts and if you couldn't get them right, you would lose the game and could only play it again the next day. So, you were very concentrated at that moment, so concentrated, that you didn't even notice the strange looks that your friends and girlfriend were exchanging.
You were quiet for a long time, and that wasn't very normal for you, the girls always said that you and Daniela were the loudest, so when they didn't hear a word if it comes out of your mouth, they were definitely worried.
Exchanging silent glances, the girls debated whether or not to ask if there was something wrong. Your state of stillness was at least a little troubling, and Sophia, as the leader, began to really wonder if anything had upset you.
The girls looked at your girlfriend, silently asking if you were okay. Manon, who just shrugged, tried to look over your shoulder at what you were doing on your phone. When she was close to seeing what you saw so much on that phone, you jumped up off the couch.
"FUCK, YEAH!" You said, jumping up and down, making the girls startle and Sophia glare.
"Yn! Language!" Sophia said as she watched you jump for joy.
"I'm sorry, but I've finally settled the word of the day!" You said, jumping until you got close to Manon and threw yourself into your girlfriend's lap.
"Solved what?" Megan asks, getting confused by what you were saying.
"It's a game, I only have a few tries to figure out the word of the day and I finally got it, at the last minute." You said, laughing and kissing Manon's cheek, showing your happiness. "It was one of the hardest words I've ever caught."
"Why didn't you ask for our help?" Lara asked, reaching out and picking up your phone, to see how the game worked.
"I thought you might think it was silly." You said, slightly embarrassed by your confession.
"Awn, baby. It's not silly." Manon said, putting a strand of your hair behind your ear and giving a little kiss on your lips. "How about I help you next time, huh?" Manon offered, bringing a smile to your face.
"I would love it, love." You respond, giving her a kiss on the cheek.
"Hey, we're still here!" Daniela said, throwing a cushion at both of you. "And we can help too." The Latina said, making you a little surprised.
"yes, it sounds fun. We'll help you next time." Lara said, giving you back your phone.
"Thank you girls." You said, making them smile back at you.
"But don't yell like that again." Yoonchae said, looking at you with a warning look, making you swallow hard and agree.
MY CLASSES WILL START IN A WEEK, I'M FREAKING OUT GUYS SORRY
Stay safe and drink water
xoxo, spider.
#katseye imagines#katseye x reader#kpop gg#gxg#kpop fluff#sophia laforteza x reader#daniela avanzini x reader#lara raj x reader#manon bannerman x reader#yoonchae x reader#request
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mehendi lagake rakhna!
pairing: oscar piastri x desi!reader
genre: pure fluff, slightly suggestive at parts but nothing tooo crazy lol
wc: 1.8k
.° ïœĄđŠčË đŒ ïœĄđŠč° ïœĄ. .° ïœĄđŠčË đŒ ïœĄđŠč° ïœĄ. .° ïœĄđŠčË đŒ ïœĄđŠč° ïœĄ. .° ïœĄ
âOscar, donât tell me you havenât practiced your steps! The sangeet is tonight!â Y/Nâs cousins were simply frustrated with her dear boyfriend, who could not seem to dance to save his life and had also forgotten to practice the night before.
âI didnât think itâd be so difficult! These steps are way too hard,â he protested, looking around for his girlfriend, who was seated among some ladies while she got her mehendi done. Apparently, being a bridesmaid at her cousinâs wedding included entertaining the many aunties and listening in on all their gossip
âBaby, are you aware of how mean your cousins are?â he huffed as he sat next to her.
âI told you to practice last night, but someone was too busy sampling the different kulfi flavors at the buffet.â
The man made a sound of indignation, then looked at Y/Nâs palms, which were being adorned with a beautiful design.
âHow does it look? Nice, na?â she asked while admiring her own hands.
Oscar agreed with a nod and a soft smile. She turned to look at him.
âSpeaking of which, Iâve got a game for you! Your nameâs written on my palmâitâs designed into my mehendi! You need to find it!â She giggled, and even the artist smiled at him.
âReally? Well, it should be rather easy. My nameâs not very long.â
She winked at him. âThatâs what you think. Just you wait!â
âHe has another thing to worry about, Y/N!â her mum called out, coming to place her palm on Oscarâs back. They both laughed, with Y/N letting out a âAmma, donât tease him!â
âWhy do I need to worry about that?â he asked as the women laughed.
âWell, thereâs this old saying: the darker a womanâs mehendi comes out, the more her husband loves her, so you better hope itâs dark, or elseâŠâ Y/N threatened him as her mother quietly laughed.
âBut we arenât married, darling. Howâs that fair?â
Hearing this, her mother let out a huff. âYou two are basically married. The specifics donât matter.â
He let out a groan of faux annoyance. âYou find the most wonderful ways to get me in trouble, donât you?â He rolled his eyes while peering into her mehendi, trying to spot his name before she elbowed him away.
âYou can only find it after itâs dried. Now go and practice your stepsâyouâre in the first line with me during Kajra Re.â
âWhatâs that now?â
âJust go and practice, you idiot.â She laughed at him as he ran away, fearing how much he would be yelled at for being a bad dancer.
đȘ·đȘ·đȘ·
âThere we go, nice and easy. Now letâs get the next one.â
Y/Nâs brother had been at work moving up and down the venue, helping out with small jobs like moving tables, carrying in suitcases, and asking the guests if they had eaten or not. Somehow, he managed to rope Oscar into helping, and help he did, eager to get away from the evil dancing bridesmaids.
After many attempts at trying to move a table, her brother said, âMate, you need to help me lift this. It wonât budge.â
But before Oscar could do anything, he heard Y/Nâs voice calling out to him from across the open ground where the mehendi function was happening.
âYou better go. She doesnât like to wait,â her brother said, chuckling.
âDonât I know it? Coming, babe!â
âThere you are. Look, I need your help. The brideâs uncle and his family are coming in from the airport. She sent someone to pick them up, and I need to call them and check if theyâre on their way.â
âOkay, so do it,â he said, looking at her quizzically.
She rolled her eyes. âOsc, Iâve got to let the mehendi dryâI canât really touch anything. Be a darling and reach into my pocket and take it out for me, please.â
She turned her hip slightly to the side, to where her pocket was, her hands in the air, carefully held up to make sure she didnât smudge her henna.
âYeah, of course,â he said as he reached around her waist, reaching for her phone.
It was only then he realized just how close she was standing to him. Her beige lehenga and blouse, showing off her midriff, with her hair cascading beautifully down her shoulders. She smelled heavenly, like she always did, with hints of vanilla and cocoa butter.
He then made the mistake of looking down at her, his face tinted with a shade of pink similar to hers. Y/Nâs eyes were focused on him, and in that moment, it dawned on her that she hadnât really noticed how handsome Oscar looked that day. Wearing a simple cream kurta with his sleeves rolled up and his token slightly messy hair, he looked effortlessly perfect.
It took a lot of self-control for her not to kiss him in that moment. They stared at each other for a while, neither moving, until eventually the sound of someone calling out his name was heard.
âOscar! Need you to help with the tables, mate.â
Her brother, as usual, coming in clutch to be the cockblocker.
Y/N grit her teeth in annoyance, and Oscar finally remembered he had to take her phone out. He fumbled with it for a second before dialing and dealing with the contact she asked him to.
He held the phone to her ear till she finished speaking, and then put the phone back in her pocket.
âThanks, babe. Now run along before someone else yells out for you.â
đȘ·đȘ·đȘ·
Itâs the evening of the sangeet, and Oscarâs long hours of practice (read: 1 hour and 13 minutes) were finally going to be tested.
The guests were all seated, and Oscar felt a pang of nervousness, similar to the kind he felt waiting for the lights to go out at a Grand Prix. Y/N felt his anxiety and reached for his hand, gently squeezing it to alleviate his stress. He smiled and squeezed it back, and before he knew it, the opening tunes to the song Ainvayi Ainvayi began to play.
He managed to remember the steps, almost missing one before he got back on track. They danced to a few more songs before coming to the final oneâand the most importantâKajra Re.
The two of them were placed front and center, with everyone able to see them. He saw her parents and grandparents in the crowd, along with her cousins, who whistled as they took their places on the stage.
The nervousness seeped in again, with the worry of having to impress her family. But Y/N leaned in, whispering to him, âYouâre going to kill it, hon. Trust me.â
âWhat if I donât?â he whispered back.
âWell, then Iâll mess my steps too. Then we can look dumb together.â
âThatâs difficult to believeâyouâre a good dancer,â he quipped.
âLeave it to me. Iâll fumble so bad weâll have to hide out in our hotel room.â
They laughed, just as the music started. And believe it or not, Oscar killed it.
It turned out Y/Nâs relatives were so excited to see the Australian dance to the Bollywood songs that they didnât seem to mind if he messed up a few steps. They hooted and cheered, with their volume increasing at the final step, where Oscar pulled Y/N toward him and dipped her back dramatically.
The audience thoroughly enjoyed the performance, but for Oscar, everything else was drowned out. The only thing he focused on was his girlfriend, looking up at him with admiration and all the love she could conjure in a single look.
She mouthed, âTold you!â a triumphant smile on her face. He laughed, unable to argue with her words.
đȘ·đȘ·đȘ·
âThat was some performance, you two!â Y/Nâs dad complimented the couple as they ateâor rather, as Y/N ate while Oscar fed her.
It turns out being a bridesmaid doesnât just mean you get to take cute photos and plan a bachelorette party; it also means you have a lot of work to do to make the brideâs life easier. Sheâd been running around post-performance, and Oscar had finally managed to catch a hold of her and sit her down.
âYouâve gotta eat something. The last thing you ate was a tea sandwich at 5:30,â he said firmly.
âIâm too busy to eat, Osc. Iâve got a lot of phone calls to make to the vendors for tomorrowâs haldi ceremony,â she mumbled.
âDonât worry, Iâll help out with it. For now, just sit down and let me get some food into your body,â he said, leaving no room for argument.
And thatâs how they got here, with him feeding her a spoonful of biryani as she leaned back in her chair.
âWell, thankfully I had a good group of teachers,â Oscar said, motioning toward the other bridesmaids, who laughed at his compliment.
âY/N, why are you forcing the poor boy to feed you?â her father asked, using the affectionate tone he always used for his daughter.
âIâm too tired to eat, Appa. Heâs forcing me to,â she mumbled, her voice muffled by the rice still in her mouth.
âWell, at least we know youâre in good hands. Isnât she?â her father said, nudging his wife.
âOh yes, the very best. Youâve got your work cut out for you, kanna,â her mother added, making the entire table laugh.
Oscar leaned in and whispered into Y/Nâs ear, âWhat did she call me now?â
Y/N smiled and replied, âShe called you kanna. Itâs like a term of endearment. She doesnât even use it for my brother, so you should feel special.â
Oscarâs face lit up at the explanation, glad to feel so accepted and welcomed by her family. He grinned at her and fed her another spoonful of rice.
đȘ·đȘ·đȘ·
âBy the way, I found my name,â Oscar said suddenly, making Y/N look up at him in confusion, only to notice him staring at her palms.
âDid you now? Where is it, then?â she challenged, her brow raised playfully.
He pointed to her left handâs ring finger, where a small but clearly visible âOscarâ was designed into her mehendi.
âYouâre good at this,â she said, impressed. âI asked her to make it super hard to find.â
They both laughed, and then he added, âIâve got something for you to see, although mine isnât as difficult to spot.â
He pulled out his palm and faced it upward, revealing the mehendi he had secretly gotten done. The design was simple but heartfelt. On his palm, Y/Nâs name was written boldly and clearly, surrounded by small hearts.
She gasped at the sight, catching the attention of the rest of the table. Realizing what the matter was, everyone cheered, thoroughly enjoying how enthusiastically Oscar was partaking in their culture.
âYouâre so adorable. I canât believe you got this doneâI didnât even notice!â
âWell, youâd be surprised at how sneaky I am, darling.â
âIs that so?â she teased, grinning.
âWhy yes, yes it is. Now, how about we go get some kulfi? Iâve been craving it since last night.â
She laughed, standing up and taking his hand as they walked away from the table, their laughter echoing through the festive evening.
đȘ·đȘ·đȘ·
this was my first attempt at writing smth lol, lmk your thoughts, and if youâd like me to continue with this. xoxo đ©· (also yes i made the reader tamilian in this bc i like to shamelessly self insert haha)
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri x desi!reader#oscar piastri x south indian!reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri fanfic#f1 x desi!reader#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#f1 fluff#op81#op81 fluff
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Title: Hold You Close
Part 2
Marshall was always tactile with his affection. You knew it from the first time you met, the way his hand had hovered at the small of your back when he walked with you, as though making sure you didnât wander too far. But now, after years together, it had become second nature to him to pull you closeâso much so that you couldnât even remember the last time you sat on your own couch without him wrapped around you.
Morning Moments
You woke to the sound of the soft hum of the coffee maker in the kitchen. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted into the bedroom, coaxing you out of sleep. Stretching, you glanced over to Marshallâs side of the bed.
Empty.
That was unusual. He almost always stayed in bed until you woke up, claiming it was his favorite part of the morning.
You wandered into the kitchen, still rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Marshall stood by the counter, leaning against it with his phone in hand and his coffee steaming beside him.
âMorning,â you mumbled, stepping closer.
He looked up, his face lighting up at the sight of you. âThereâs my girl.â
Before you could make it to the counter, he reached out, pulling you into his arms. You let out a soft laugh as he tucked your head beneath his chin, his arms tightening around your waist.
âYou smell like sleep,â he teased, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
âYou smell like coffee,â you shot back, your voice muffled against his chest.
Marshall chuckled, swaying slightly with you in his arms. âYou hungry?â
âNot really,â you murmured, content just to stay wrapped in his embrace.
âGood,â he said. ââCause Iâm not letting you go anytime soon.â
---
Studio Interruptions
You always made it a point to give Marshall space when he was working, but every once in a while, youâd peek into the studio to see how things were going.
Today was one of those days. You stood in the doorway, watching as he sat at the soundboard, headphones over his ears. He was so focused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he listened to the playback of whatever heâd been working on.
You didnât think heâd notice you, but then he turned, his blue eyes lighting up when they met yours.
âHey,â he called, pulling off his headphones. âGet in here.â
You hesitated. âI donât want to interruptââ
âDonât care,â he cut you off, beckoning you with a grin. âCome here.â
With a smile, you crossed the room, and before you could say a word, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into his lap.
âMuch better,â he murmured, resting his chin on your shoulder.
âMarshall,â you laughed. âI can't be comfortable!"
He scoffed. âYouâre tiny. I could carry you around all day.â
You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks warmed at his words. âYouâre ridiculous.â
âMaybe,â he said, nuzzling your neck. âBut now Iâve got everything I need to finish this track.â
Movie Nights
Evenings were your favorite. After a long day, you and Marshall would curl up on the couch together, a movie playing in the background. Not that you ever really paid attention to what was onâMarshall had a way of distracting you.
Tonight was no different. You were sitting at one end of the couch, your legs tucked under you as the opening credits rolled. Marshall sat at the other end, but that didnât last long.
âWhy are you all the way over there?â he asked, his voice full of mock offense.
âI thought you wanted space,â you teased.
âNot from you,â he said, reaching over and tugging you across the cushions.
You let out a squeak as he pulled you into his lap, his arms wrapping securely around you.
âMuch better,â he said, pressing a kiss to your temple.
âYouâre clingy,â you teased, though your tone was fond.
âAnd you love it,â he shot back with a grin.
He wasnât wrong.
Always Close
No matter where you were or what you were doing, Marshall always found a way to pull you close. Whether it was his arm slung around your shoulders while you walked together, or the way heâd hold your hand under the table during dinner, he couldnât seem to keep his hands off you.
But you wouldnât have it any other way.
âI just like knowing youâre close,â he admitted one night as you lay tangled together in bed.
You smiled, tracing lazy patterns on his chest. âIâm not going anywhere, Marshall.â
âI know,â he said, his voice soft. âBut it still feels better when I can hold you.â
You pressed a kiss to his chest, your heart swelling with affection.
âGood thing I like being held,â you murmured.
âGood thing,â he echoed, pulling you even closer.
And as you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in his arms, you realized there was nowhere else youâd rather be.
---
Let me know if you'd like me to expand this one, it was fun to play with!
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here is yet another short bit from the fic im working onâŠ. not beta read or anything so donât judge too hard
ââââàšà§ââââ
Mack is standing in the VIP lounge talking to his dad after the gameâonly half listening to him bitch about everything he didnât do well in the gameâwhen Will comes up from behind tapping his shoulder.
âHey, Celly, my dad wants to meet you.â He starts the second Mack turns around, gesturing over to where his dad was talking to a couple of the other Dads.
âSmith. No hello?â, itâs Rick Celebrini. The one and only, Will thinks.
âSorry, um, Mr. Celebrini.â Will shakes his hand firmly, just as heâd been taught by his own father. Him and Rick had already met once before when Mack brought Will to the Warriors game, he wasnât any more polite this time to last. âMind if I borrow Mack for a sec? My Dad-â
âGo ahead,â He starts before turning to Macklin, âWeâll continue this later, Iâll see you at the restaurant, son.â He quickly claps Mack on the shoulder and disappears into the crowd.
âââ
âDad, um, this is Mack.â Will starts as Bill, finished up talking to a couple of the other dads.
âOh, Mack! So nice to finally meet you, Willy here wouldnât shut up about you.â He joked, squeezing Willâs shoulder as he blushes in embarrassment.
âDad.â Will warned playfully.
âOh did he now?â Mack looked to Will, a teasing smile plastered on his face.
âOh, whatâs that? I think I hear Toff calling me, gotta go.â he starts turning away to leave Mack and his Dad to talk alone.
Mack watches as his teammate falls into the sea of Sharks jerseys, unable to tell him apart from all the different shades of teal and white.
âSo,â Bill starts, Macks attention snapping back to him, âBC jersey, huh?â
âOh- Yeah, um, I lost a bet.â He says quickly, itâs the truth yet he still feels like heâs lying.
âRight. Iâm shocked he let you wear it.â
âIâm sorry?â Mack said, a little shocked.
What is that supposed to mean? He didnât just let me, he made me. he thought.
âYeah, doesnât let anyone touch it. Not his mother, not me, donât even think he let Gabe or Ryan touch it after he took it off that night.â
Mack just stared at him in shock, he knew it wasnât polite but what else was he supposed to do? This is quite literally life changing information. So what he may be a little dramatic, this has to mean something. He needs it to mean something.
Willâs Dad continued with a small chuckle, âHe told me he needed me to bring it with me on the trip, I had to ask if he has joking thatâs how serious he is about it. Now I see why.â
âOh my- I, fuck, sorry, he never told me that.â Mack stuttered awkwardly, still in complete shock.
âLooks like heâs waiting for you,â he points behinds Mack to see the previous crowd of staff and other guests completely cleared out, leaving nobody but Will, leaning against the wall on his phone.â
âOh. Yeah, do you mind?â
âGo ahead, Iâll see you two at dinner.â He smiles fondly down at the eighteen year old, âand Mack?â
He turned back around, a quizzical look on his face.â
âYouâre a good kid, it was nice to meet you. and he really likes you, I can tell.â
âThanks, uh, Mr. Smith.â Mack feels like his heart is going to burst with all this information at once. Heâs sure Willâs dad didnât mean he likes him like that but still.
âBill is fine, kiddo.â
They share a short smile before Mack runs off to meet up with Will so they can drive to the restaurant together.
ââââàšà§ââââ
hope this is half decent!! i didnât read it myself after writing so if theres any mistakes ill fix them late
(heres the song i was listening to on repeat while writing this)
#will smith hockey#macklin celebrini#macklin celebrini will smith#willmack#willmack fanfic#fanfiction#fanfic#rough draft#not beta read#san jose sharks#sharks hockey#sj sharks#sharks lb#rick celebrini#bill smith#dads trip
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It's the perfect time of year Somewhere far away from here
Buggy isn't *old* even if his body says otherwise.
Rating: PG13
Warning: none
A/N: I started this when I threw my back out brushing my teeth last year and I'm just now finishing and posting it. I actually thought it was lost. I've been dealing with health issues (physical and mental) hence why... Nothing has been written for a while. Here we go. I think I'm back. Is this good? Nah but it's fun. Buggy is fun and that's what matters.
Title comes from "Pinch Me" by Barenaked Ladies
~
You jokingly called him Old Man after he complained about a stiff neck when he woke up one morning, and yea, Buggy was a little offended. You were both the same age, late thirties, prime of life! Yet you called him Old, which was offensive to him, even jokingly.
He didn't feel old and he proved it by climbing up a stack of boxes to get something down, carried way too many baskets of heavy things, and even did a pushup competition against one of the younger freaks, winning by a landslide.
Him? Old? Pssh. He'd teach you a lesson later.
By night time, he felt tired, rightfully so, and as he leaned over the sink to brush his teeth, thinking all the ways he'd get back at you for calling him old, something happened. He felt the muscles in his lower back tense up suddenly, catching him by surprise that he nearly spat out his toothbrush. He caught himself on the sink, feeling the pain and discomfort radiate from that spot all the way to his sides, legs, and even up his back.
Buggy felt like his legs would give out from under him. It felt like a giant grabbed the base of his spine and smooshed it down. Was this the end? Everything hurt.
"Babe!" He managed to shout as he spat out the toothbrush and paste as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Babe, I need you in here!"
"I swear, if you're showing me what you did to the toilet again, I'm leaving you." You retorted as you came in. You saw the pain he was in, knuckles white as he gripped onto the sink. He wasn't moving, staying hunched over as he glanced in your direction. "What happened?"
"I'unno, my back hurts!" He whined. "I don't know what I did!"
"Okay, okay, let's get you to bed." You let him hold onto you as you led him to the bed, being mindful of his movements as he winced and complained about the pain. His movements were stiff and you were careful to help him into bed.
You weren't a doctor but you've had your share of injuries.
You went to get a cold compress for his back as he laid flat on his back, whining about the pain. Maybe some pain meds to take the edge off would work too. You'd seen him best up several times before but the back pain was no joke.
"Buggy, babe, what do you need?" You wondered if there would be a way to get some ice for him.
"I'unnoooooo!" He was fussy. You helped him prop his legs up to keep some of the pressure off his back. Maybe he would feel better in a few days.
~
Buggy was an absolute baby about this. He was taking full advantage of being laid up and demanding everything from you. Once you threatened to smother him with a pillow he settled down a bit.
He was enjoying the attention from you. The massages, the snacks you brought him, and how you held him before bed time so your hands would rub his back, fingers digging into the muscles to loosen him up, often had him relaxing in your arms even if it was uncomfortable.
Did he make inappropriate comments about your hands? Of course.
Did he tell you how he would make sure to show you how he wasn't such an old man once he was better? Obviously.
And you didn't mind the comments, you thought they were funny.
And after he said he wasn't an old man, you asked how he intended to prove it.
He would find a way once his back stopped hurting.
#buggy the clown#buggy the clown x reader#buggy the clown x you#buggy x reader#buggy x you#opla buggy the clown#opla buggy#opla buggy the clown x reader#opla buggy the clown x you#opla buggy x reader#opla buggy x you
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Yet Unnamed
Chapter 5
Masterlist
Warnings for Yet Unnamed: Kidnapping, cuffs, injuries, drugging by injection, mentions of needles, lots of swearing, kissing, fluff, angst, idiots in love all around.
Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl.
đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„đ„
~
The sun hadnât even peeked over the horizon when your door opened, and you bounced awake as several bodies jumped onto the bed with you.
âY/n!â Han crooned pushing at your shoulder.
âWhy?â You asked plainly rubbing your tired eyes.
âWe wanted to say goodbye. You will be gone by the time we are done today.â Lee Know replied.
You slapped the bed as Binnie draped himself on top of you. âI said goodbye last night.â You shift so Bin wasnât crushing your hips together painfully. His weight pushing you into the bed was surprisingly comforting and you pat his head heavily.
âLike that was going to be enough.â Seungmin scoffed. He smacked at your foot, and you kick at him petulantly.
âDid you pack?â Chan asked. He looked around the room at the lack of suitcase. Just a mini backpack.
You pointed to the backpack. âJust a carry on. I have clothes at home.â
âDid you pack your charger? Snacks? Water?â
You smiled. It was nice to have someone worry over you again. It had been several years since anyone cared. âPacked the charger. Snack and drinks are provided on the plane.â
You tapped Bin to let you up. He sat up and pulled you with him, making you whine as the blanket slipped off and the cool air hit your sleep warm skin. He mumbled an apology.
âHow are you getting to the airport?â Hyunjin asked.
âWe can give you a ride.â Chan offered.
âYou cannot skip more work. You will make STAY sad. I will get an Uber.â You looked at your phone. âIn fact you are going to be late already.â
Chan checked his own phone and I.N shrugged.
Hyunjin threw his arms around both you and Bin, squeezing tight. âBe safe. Text all the time. And call!â He ordered.
You squeezed him back. âI will. And 2 weeks will fly by. You will be so busy trying to catch up you wont even have time to think about me.â
âI already miss you!â Felix whined, joining in on the hug.
Everyone else wrapped around you as well until you were being squeezed by all 8 of your soulmates. And you were pretty sure you felt someone kiss the top of your head, but there was no way to tell who it was, and you doubted they would fess up if you asked.
~
Once at the airport you sat at your terminal, facing the runway to watch the planes, but pulling your phone out first.
You chuckled at Chans obvious overthinking and simultaneously cringed at yourself. You were so awkward!
You texted back and forth for a while before your plane started to board and you were forced to turn off your phone.
Traveling with no luggage was the best. No baggage claims or trying to fit bags into the overhead compartment. Literally just had a mini backpack you could shove under your seat.
And your flight only had one crying baby. They settled down after an hour or so. Tuckered out most likely. You were sure the poor parent with them was just as relieved as everyone else, if not more. You felt bad for them.
In your row was just a young girl and her father. They quietly talked while watching cartoons on her pink tablet. And the girl was in the middle so you didn't feel as squished as you usually would.
You even managed to relax back into your seat and let the background noise of the plane become a pleasant hum, closing your eyes and managing a light on and off sleep to kill time.
In between naps you played offline games and read on your phone, even interacting with the little girl next to you when she seemed to get fidgety and bored with her cartoons. Her dad snored softly beside her.
Overall, the flight was long, but entertaining enough to not bore you to tears. You were still relieved to be walking when you finally landed and were allowed to deplane.
You never flew or really went on trips anywhere. But somehow this airport felt more comfortable and familiar. More like home. Maybe because this is the airport you grew up near. The one you stood with your mom at while waiting for your dad to get back from a business trip. The one you toured and got to go behind the scenes in when you were in Girl Scouts. The one all over the news when that meth head went crazy and started screaming through the terminals, security chasing after him.
This is where you lived and graduated from. You learned to drive on these streets and went to a nearby hospital when you fell off your bike while learning to ride a 2-wheeler. Your grandfather took you, lecturing you the entire time about the proper way to ride and what you did wrong, but being so gentle when he carried you in, even when you said you could walk.
Its where your family is buried.
Leaving this place behind was bittersweet for you. You would miss it, but you were also moving toward a huge and amazing adventure. With your soulmates.
Your mother said you were lucky. It had been 5 generations since your family had had someone born with a soul mark. And you had 8 soulmates. Anytime you felt lonely or sad as a child she would remind you that there were 8 people out there waiting for you. Whose souls called for and matched yours like puzzle pieces. It never failed to cheer you up. And even when she was gone, you would remember her words during hard times and feel less alone in this big world.
Your phone chirped repeatedly with new messages as you waited for your ride home. While you stood off to the side and in plain view, you read over the messages and realized that they kept using the group chat to talk to each other. It made you smile. You were still kept in the loop, and it felt good. They still wanted you to know what was going on and be a part of their days.
You continued to text through your ride home and freshening up. Until you could no longer keep your eyes open. They popped in and out of chat as they got busy with things and couldn't text
You were shocked you lasted as long as you did. As soon as you unlocked your door the weariness hit you like a ton of bricks, and you didn't even bother to unpack anything from you bag before cleaning up and crawling into bed.
The first week didn't necessarily fly by, but it didn't drag either. The pain and emptiness from being so far from your soulmates was a constant ache that you could never escape from. And you often found yourself staring off into space and rubbing your chest above the ache, trying to ease it as best you could. It was worse at night when you were lying in bed trying to sleep. There was nothing to distract yourself then and, in the end, it made it so you didn't sleep very well. Often giving up and getting up to pack some more instead. You were trying to get done quickly anyway.
As you expected, your job fired you immediately when they heard your lack of explanation. How were you supposed to explain your sudden disappearance for days? It's not like you could tell them you were kidnapped!
But in the end, it worked out for you. Now you could leave as soon as your apartment was packed up and sold off. Get back to the others faster.
You didn't tell them. You weren't sure how quickly you could finish, and you didn't want the anticipation to make things worse than they already were. It was so hard being away from them. Being alone again. And you had only had them for a very short time. Truly, your entire existence is altered when you meet your soulmates. How does anyone ever resist the bond?
You only kept the most irreplaceable and sentimental things. Including your K-pop memorabilia that you spent so much money on over the years. You couldn't part with it. You packed everything tightly and securely in boxes and shipped it to the apartment in Korea. It was much cheaper and easier than trying to get everything onto the plane. Everything else was sold, donated, or thrown away.
You notified anyone who needed it that you were moving, closed accounts, paid off remaining bills, etc. Even as busy as you were, the ache was always in the forefront of your mind.
You spend all day and night in the chat group. It was your lifeline to your boys. Even if you had nothing to say other than letting them know what you just packed up or canceled. Or sending a random picture or meme when you were taking a break.
The deeper conversations where you got to know each other happened when one side was in bed for the evening. Feeling secure and safe in their beds under the covers and willing to open up and be more vulnerable.
Also, later when everyone over there was asleep but insomniac Chan and you two switched over to one-on-one conversations in order to not blow up everyones phone while they were trying to sleep.
Finally, you were at the airport and more than ready to get back to your soulmates.
You still hadn't told anyone you were coming home. But only because you looked when you changed your ticket and realized you were on the same flight home as Hyunjin and Felix when you switched flights at your layover. You wanted to surprise them.
Granted you weren't going to be able to talk to each other or sit anywhere near each other since they were in first class. And you needed to be careful that no one found out you knew each other and made the connection before your perfectly created story had the chance to be aired. But you were still going to be closer than you had been in over a week.
The teasers and wind up to the reveal would start tomorrow. You would be taking partial photos with each member to post to their account with very carefully worded hints into finding their 9th and final soul bond member. Each member would take their own photo, and you would work with them on how and when to post it to keep STAY and the media guessing and craving more. And you were working with staff to create a cute, cozy little, meet cute, coffee/book shop photo shoot for the reveal photos. Plus, your one kids' room type of introduction video will be recorded soon.
Somehow you were nervous about seeing everyone again. Everything seemed fine in the messages. It was easy and flowed nicely. What if it wasn't as comfortable, as open in person as you were in texts, and it became awkward?
And it meant really starting your new life. Getting into the new job and letting the world see Stray Kids soul bond group for the first time all together.
When they saw you at the terminal, Felix almost ran right to me, but Hyunjin stopped him and pointedly looked around them at the hundreds of phones from STAY, recording everything they did. Felix looked so disappointed when he realized.
You had joined the crowd of STAYs swooning over and recording Hyunlix. Screaming at the top of your lungs and trying to get closer, jumping excitedly.
They were both trying to watch you without watching you and failing to hide their laughing. Hyunjin even snapped a photo, pretending it was of the crowd at large but aimed at you.
Hey, you are a fan, and you had done a marvelous job at not fangirling all over them when you first met, so you were going to take this opportunity while you could. Too bad all 8 of them weren't here, so you could really get it out of your system.
You watched as Felix and Hyunjin both worked their way down the barrier of fans. Making hand hearts and pausing for photos. You expected Felix to grab your hand briefly like he had several others and move on, but instead he grabbed your phone, shocking you.
He gestured you forward with a laugh, flipping the camera on your phone to selfie mode and leaning in close to you. Giddy and still in fangirl mode, you squeal and lean in, giving your phone a half heart to complete the one he was doing. He snapped the photo and handed you the phone back, brushing your fingers as he did, and gave you a wide smile and wink before moving on.
As he passed the STAYs around you crowded closer to see the photo and you proudly show it off, tears building in your eyes from excitement.
Hyunjin was slightly less subtle. He didnât take a selfie with you, but he did lace your fingers together in the air for a bit longer than strictly necessary. And he didnât lace his fingers with any other fan either. He squeezed your hand and made direct eye contact before moving on. Your fangirl heart was fit to burst.
You smiled at Hyunjin and Felix one more time as they boarded before everyone else. Celebrity treatment. You wouldnât be able to be anywhere near them on the flight, but it soothed something in the space you associated with your soul mate bond in your chest just to have them near you again. To know that they are close after so long.
This flight wasnât quiet. There were several crying children who never quieted down, and at least one small yapping dog that the owner just let bark the entire time. And it smelled like wet dog throughout the whole cabin. You were in the middle seat between a man who smelled like a bar and woman who used an entire bottle of perfume. And both hogged the armrests. Halfway into the flight the woman removed both her shoes and socks and proceeded to cross her legs and pick at some kind of green fungus on her toenails. You wanted to vomit.
You were so ready to get off the plane you broke plane etiquette and almost ran off the plane and through the airport to the exit. You got absolutely no sleep, had a massive headache from the smells, and was exhausted from the whole disgusting ordeal.
A car was waiting to pick up a passenger right outside the airport, so you didnât even need to wait. You gave the driver the address and leaned back in the seat with a sigh, closing your eyes.
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#stray kids#skz stay#skz fake texts#stray kids fake texts#stray kids texts#stray kids smau#skz smau#skz fanfic#3racha#bang chan#chris bang#lee know#skz minho#changbin skz#hyunjin stray kids#han stray kids#stray kids jisung#felix stray kids#stray kids yongbok#seungmin stray kids#i.n skz#jeongin stray kids#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x you#stray kids x reader#Yet Unnamed
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Nanny
Summary: Whenever Toji is left with two young children (one not even being his) he decides to finally get his shit together and leaves his past behind. He gets a new job, a bodyguard that people can hire for periods of time. First, he needs to find a nanny.
Warnings: no curses au, he was just a low level assassin who killed lesser known people but still strong ofc, cursing, fem reader, use of y/n, Toji is 28 while reader is 27, reader is shorter than Toji, slight suggestive themeâs towards the end
It takes Toji many grueling months to find the perfect nanny for his children, of course Tsumiki wasnât the problem she was kind with every new nanny that attempted to care for them. It was his little shit head Megumi who was the problem, always refusing to talk to them, hiding away in his room with the door locked. Just causing useless problems for everyone.
Finally after almost five months he finds you, only a year younger than himself. He opens the door with a huff, almost forgetting that today would be a trial run for the arrangement. He didnât do them at first, but now it was deemed necessary and by the look on your face it didnât look like you minded.
You had just a small backpack that was enough to last you one night, due to the information Toji gave you it seemed the youngest was the problem. He let you in, immediately be greeted with the sight of two children on the couch watching some show.
The girl gives a polite smile while the boy glares slightly before looking back to the tv, with a grunt the man speaks. âTsumiki can pretty much take care of herself, Megumi is the biggest issue. If it doesnât work out just call and I can head back over.â You nod, âDonât worry I think iâll be fine.â
Toji cant help but scoff, not necessarily at you but he knows how Megumi can be. He is his son after all. He grabs his wallet and keys off the small table next to the door. âRight, well iâll be home by at-least eleven.â Without another word from either of you he walks out the front door of the small house.
You turn to the children before smiling, you decided to go place your bag down in the room that was for you. It was a guest room, placing your backpack down onto the bed as you pulled out your phone charger. Plugging the block of the charger into the wall before hooking your phone up.
Toji said he really doesnât have any rules besides they need to eat before ten âa clock, and no sugary foods past seven. Which were easy rules you could follow.
Before this you worked for a family for over four years, watching over their son before they ended up moving back to their home town. You left the guest room and went into the kitchen, grabbing yourself a water bottle. You trail back towards the living room, Tsumiki seeâs you and with a shy smile makes Megumi scoot over so there enough room. Instead he standâs up and walks past you with his brows pinched together.
The little girl moves to where he was just sitting so theres enough room for you, while you sit down with a quiet sigh. âHello, I apologize for Megumi heâs never really liked having a nanny so far.â You smiled at her shaking your head, âNo worries, your father warned me ahead of time.â She smiled at you while nodding.
You spend the next hour chatting with the girl, asking questions about school which caused her to share some gossip which you indulged in shamelessly. You spoke a bit about past nannyâs, laughing slightly at some of the stories.
Hours later Toji was finally able to go home, huffing as he unlocked his front door. He slid off his shoes and stepped through the hallway, he could hear some talking in the dining room. So he walked near that, rounding the corner as he spoke âAlright bratâs iâm home.â
You can imagine his shock whenever he seeâs you and Megumi talking, while Tsumiki happily eats some takeout. You turned to Toji once you heard him, quickly finishing off your food in your mouth before speaking. âOh, I hope you dont mind me ordering take out it was just the easier option.â
He turned to Megumi who was looking at his father, thats when he decided you were here to stay.
đâ đâ â Ëâ đŹâ Ëâ â đâ đ
Itâs now been almost seven months since then, you now stayed permanently in the guest room as it was just a better accommodation for everyone. Only on the weekends would you go back home to your parentâs house, giving the small family some space.
Itâs a Tuesday night whenever Toji comes home earlier than most nights. It was almost nine âa clock whenever he got home, immediately being greeted with the smell of food. He hummed as he trailed into the kitchen, seeing you cooking something.
He walked up behind you seemingly not caring about personal space as he leans over you to see what youâre making, âLooks good.â He snickers as you yelp and turn to look over your shoulder at him. âJesus Toji you cant just sneak up on me like that!â
He shrugged, âAlright woman, iâm gonna go shower keep the brats entertained or whatever.â As he walked past his hand brushed against your hip, causing your ears to heat up.
At first you were offended by the nickname but then you realized he didnât mean it in a mocking way as you thought before. He just preferred that over constantly saying your name.
An hour later and you four were all sitting at the table, he used to have a small round table with only two chairs. But after the first month of you staying he realized that it wouldnât work any longer and got a bigger table along with a new set of chairs.
You and Toji sat across from each other while Tsumiki sat next to him and Megumi was next to you. At first Tsumiki was supposed to sit next to you but Megumi literally forced her to get up so he could sit by you. It was quite adorable.
You gave everyone a plate of miso soup, settling down in your chair âSorry for taking so long, I havenât made this in a long time.â You flashed Toji a sheepish smile before you took a bite.
Megumi hummed as he took a bite, ââs good.â You turned and smiled at him âThan you Megumi!â One thing that Toji noticed he liked about you was how opposite you were to him and his own kid. They were both so grouchy and both sucked at concealing their facial expression, but you and Tsumiki helped balance them out.
As you all ate in peaceful silence your foot knocked against Toji, you went to move it but before you could he wrapped his feet around your ankles and locked them in place.
You glanced up at him as you felt your face heat up, he was already looking at you with a smug expression. You looked back down at your bowl as you seemingly grew more flustered.
Thankfully shortly after everyone finished up eating and you were now washing up the dishes as Megumi and Tsumiki were getting ready for bed. You heard Toji walk into the kitchen, you sucked in a breath as you felt his hands rest on your hips.
After the first few months Toji stopped trying to hide his affection for you, he never did it in-front of the kids remembering when he did and you scolded him for almost thirty minutes.
He hooked his chin over your shoulder, pressing his nose to your cheek. âThanks for the dinner.â You let out a shaky breath. âToji we shouldnât be like this, itâs unprofessional.â At this he grumbled. Moving to place a kiss just below your jaw, âGo out with me woman, I thought I made my feelings clear.â
At this you froze for a slight second, finishing up the late bowl and drying off your hands. Toji grew weary at your silence, maybe he shouldâve made that sound more sweet or something. You turned around in his hold, him straightening his posture as he stood over you. Settling his hands to rest against the counter on either side of your body, caging you in.
âWhat will the kids say?â At this he gives you a deadpan look, âThey love you, jesus you donât know how hard it makes me seeing you be such wife material.â He dips his head down to nip at your neck.
You feel your face heat up as you smack his chest, âToji! You cant say that,â he smiled as he pulled away from your neck âbut I guess.. iâll go out with you. If it doesnât work out though you do know I wont be able to be the kids nanny right?â He hums, âwell then I guess you have no choice but to stick by my side huh?â
A goofy smile spreads on your face, lifting up onto your toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. âI guess so.â
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#toji zenin#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk#jjk toji#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu toji
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omg omg someone who writes for rain?! in heaven. can i request a fic where reader is hanging out with the group, and andy starts embarrassing rain in front of reader, andy being like âwell, rain thinks youâre cute, she says it all the time.â just spilling all of the things she rants to him about. stuff like that. sorry if thatâs not descriptive enough đ
and if that idea sucks maybe jealous rain đ
crush
pairingâŠrain carradine x fem!reader
before you readâŠfirst fic without heart wrenching angst (i think?) suggestive language. jealous rain >:) silly andy >.<
rain tuned out of the conversation a while ago.
something about some ghost in the mines that tyler swore was tugging at his pantsâ she didnât really know, or care. not when your pretty head rests comfortably on her lap, body sprawled across the hard floor.
the aching in your back goes unnoticed, only paying attention to the traces rain made on your forearm, an invisible drawing that seemed to soothe her. just from the touch, you can assume itâs letters, names. your name, her nameâ both, together.
youâre laughing in between sips of the sour alcohol bjorn had stolen from the inventory, none of you minding the horrid taste; not when it did its job of numbing the physical and mental exhaustion from the hours prior. the working until you couldnât feel your hands or feet. the dreaded separation from your favorite person.
for you, today actually wasnât that terrible.
it couldnât be. not when you started the day snuggled into rainâs side, having fallen asleep in the tight space of her bed. you were too sleepy to drag yourself to your own home, and rain always offered for you to stay the night. she liked having someone else with her who wasnât andy, though she loved him, you wereâŠyou.
sweet. funny. charming. caring. fucking perfect and too good for this place youâre forced to call home, somewhere that seems to get dimmer each passing day. luckily, she had you as a light, something to follow, to make her feel sane.
she ate breakfast beside you, making andy sit alone, watching you two, observing every little detail of your interactions a bit too hard. rainâs stutter. her pale skin flushing red. the bumping of your elbows when sheâd laugh at something you had said. it wasnât even that funny, andy had noted.
rain was simply in a daze, her point of view warped by something he had seen in rainâs parents. appreciationâŠdevotionâŠendearment. when youâre around, her attention always shifted to you, not only like youâre the only one in the room, but on this planet in general.
and how weird, because with tyler, andy didnât see any of that. rain hadnât felt it. there was no need to see him, or to be with him, she was just there, like a spectator in her own relationship. she liked him, sure, but sheâd come to find out there was simply nothing more. a friend, and just that.
maybe thatâs why the breakup wasnât hard, not something she had to second guess. it was right. spending that time that tyler used to take up, now with you, and it felt entirely different. not a chore, something she yearned for every passing minute of the day.
andy caught on early, and rain trusted him enough to be honest with how she saw you. every positive word she was taught, and that she could never apply to anything else on jacksonâs star. just you. and, she trusts him to keep that stored in his memory, to not be spoken of or hinted at. she promised him sheâd take out his chip if he ever repeated anything sheâs ever said.
but, synthetics are not perfect.
at all.
âsoâŠâ kay speaks up when the room begins to get too quiet, the groups banter fading into the background, âcare to explain where you were last night, y/n?â
her words are sharp and pointed, causing your friends to immediately turn their heads to you. the dumbasses are already snickering, ready to tease you for something that didnât happen, and youâd burn under this spotlight if you were in some girl's bed. some girl that wasnât rain, and if you were doing a lot more than talking nonsense until your eyelids grew heavy.
but, there was no need to spare them those detailsâ because that would open a whole other can of worms that you wanted to unpack at this moment. more accusations you werenât ready to argue.
especially when rain is looking at you with that coy smile on her beautiful face, flustered that your friends think you were getting laid, when you were actually clinging to her body like your unconscious life depended on it. your eyes fall to her pink lips, your breath catching in your throat momentarily before you attempt to shrug off kay's question.
you hum, âi donât kiss and tell.â
âholy shit.â ânuh uhâ do tell.â
bjorn and tyler lean forward, navarro sighing at the men. they werenât going to let this go, not until their curiosity was solved, and you realize maybe you shouldâve just kept your mouth shut. you had unintentionally thrown them a bone, considering you were usually private about whoever you âliked.â and they think youâre dropping a bomb on them.
the last girl you took some interest in, having been one of the officer's daughters you simply thought was decent looking. you were lonely, and rain was seeing tyler at the time.
it was nothing, and kay was the only one you had mentioned this toâ when you had also expressed that her brother and rain were weird together âcoming from a place of protection, and jealousy. and thatâs exactly where kayâs mind goes in this moment, her big brown eyes widening at the sudden realization.
âno wayâ itâs that redhead you were drooling over, isnât it?â
fuck. your stomach drops. the smile fades from rainâs face while you bury yours in your hands, trying to laugh it off. that doesn't help, rain thinks you're simply embarrassed at the revelation. you listen to the stupid giggles from everyone in the room, except rain. and andy, but thatâs a given.
âdrooling over, huh?â tyler taunts, and you can feel rain stiffen. her fingers no longer making gentle traces on your skin, and you take this as an opportunity to sit up, rolling your eyes. you were definitely not drooling over her, and you most definitely didnât need them, and more importantly, rain, believing that wasâ is true.
âkay is speaking out of her ass,â you clarify, shooting the brunette a glare. the smile she wears fades quickly, doe eyes apologizing to you, but the damage is done. rain isnât letting this go, she canât, not when youâre in her bed most of the nights. not when she wakes up you practically on top of her. not when you kiss her cheek before parting ways.
âw-who is it?â rain attempts to ask in a monotone voice, pretending she doesn't care as much as she does. meanwhile, she's scanning her brain for any memory of a redhead that you've ever interacted with. she looks from you to kay, the girl already retreating back to silence and keeping her gaze in her lap.
âsâ nothing, rain,â you mumble, a shorter and simpler version than âi donât care about any-fucking-body but you.â still, it doesnât ease the subtle tension between you. she thinks youâre keeping a secret. one that would hurt really bad, if it were true.
she laughs lightly, though it lacks enthusiasm, âonly kay gets to know this shit?â
rain sounds offended when she had meant for her words to come out somewhat playful; prying without it being overtly obvious. it causes the air to still, your friends to exchange awkward looks, and for rain to gulp nervously. you think theyâre waiting for you to speak, there's just...nothing to say.
it's so insignificant, you wish you could just laugh it off. and if rain weren't here, you might've been able to, but she seems to be truly fucking invested. the only time you dislike her stare, is now. when there's something behind her eyes that you cannot place, but makes you want to apologize. what for? in this moment, you don't know.
luckily for you, andy has accessed the situation, the cause of the tightness in the air that's making everyone, specifically you and rain, suffocate. there's a pause, and then his kind voice cuts through the silence.
ârain is only curious because of her emotional attachment to y/n. aâŠcrush, is it?â
again, the room goes dead quiet. andy is looking around like he needs approval of the word that left his tongueâ crush. it sounds foreign, you assume he had picked up on it from rain. but how silly it sounds, isn't your focus, the statement itself, is.
surely, andy's confused.
âthatâs notâ no, andy,â rain speaks firmly yet lowly to not grab any more attention from you or the group, which isn't really possible because you're all staring at him. he's wearing that polite smile on his face, that falters after rain's response.
âno?â he appears to block all of you out besides his sister, âyou do, or you donât, like y/n?â
âandy.â rain squeezes her eyes shut, hearing a stifled laugh from across the room, and a teasing whistle from bjorn. she can't even look at you to see your reaction; lips parted and staring blankly at the floor.
you're struggling to register what andy is insinuating, and it doesn't help that this is happening in front of the people you see every single day, already aware this is going to be one of those moments they bring up to laugh about. but rain, she took zero humor in this. she couldnât even pretend to or pass this off as some sort of joke. she just wants to sink into the floor beneath her and disappear.
andyïżœïżœs eyebrows dip into confusion, still staring at rain, âjust this morning, you had told to me that y/n is aâŠâcuteââŠsleeper? which isnât the first, or second, or third time, you have said this.â
âthe fourth? fifth?â bjorn prods, rain glaring at him narrowly that could kill him if possible, while navarro throws an empty can at his head. and you...your face is hot. hotter than the welding tools you dealt with routinely.
you know itâs the wrong time, but envisioning rain confine in andy about you, is unarguably, pretty adorable. you have to chew the hollows of your cheeks to prevent a grin from showing. and andy doesn't spare rain from any more embarrassment, answering bjorn's unserious question, âno, and no...i seem to have lost count.â
âare there any more drinks?â kay interrupts in a sweet voice, trying to shift the topic and maybe make up for accidentally causing this in the first place. thankfully, it works, and navarro replies with a 'yeah,' while tyler suggests kay to have water instead, then bjorn chiming in to ask what's wrong with the alcohol he 'risked his life' stealing. just a bunch of nothing, and rain isn't paying attention to any of it.
âi have to piss,â rain says under her breath, for only you to catch it. she gets up, making sure to glare at her brother a split second, then walking away. sheâs genuinely upset, and now you feel bad, sighing and running your hands over your face. you mumble quietly, ânot cool, andy.â
there's a flash of sadness in his expression, before he decides to speak again, â...rain thinks you're cool.â
you blink at him, not realizing your friends heard the comment, until thereâs more hushed laughter.
âi meanâŠitâs sweet?â kay says with a smile, another attempt at making this whole thing less awkward. and sheâs correct, it really is, just not when rain is the one left to feel uncomfortable to the point she doesnât want to show her face. tyler then asks, âdoes rain think iâm cool?â
âno.â
this distracts the group, and though youâd love to brag about this, rain is still here. alone, in the bathroom, and you know she isnât actually using it. sheâs most likely muttering to herself and standing idly. you get up, letting your friends continue to poke fun at tyler, and follow rainâs footsteps, out of their sight.
you knock in a soft rhythm on the bathroom door.
ây-yeah?â
âit's me.â
seconds pass in silence, your friends hushing their voices so they can eavesdrop, then rain opens it. her eyes are on your shoes first, afraid to look up. âwhat he said...â she starts, but doesn't finish. what he said is so fucking true and i should've told you because it would spare me this embarrassment. she folds in her lips.
you step inside, shutting the door behind you, and leaning against it.
now, her pupils meet yours, worried, confused, curious. each second that you donât speak, she wonders if she fucked up. if this is going to destroy your friendship, and basically ruin her life; because you are a major part of her life. the light at the end of her tunnel. her heart is in the deepest pits of her stomach, she wants to throw it up.
âa crush, huh?â
âplease, don't,â rain lets out an exasperated sigh, already turning away from you, pale hands holding the sink as if to steady herself. her head is down, and she cannot see the hint of a grin on your face, staring at her red face through the mirror.
âi'm not making fun of you, rain,â you clarify, âjust wish i knew sooner...and not from your brother.â
she agrees. but, her lips remain sealed. rain has never been this shy around you in her entire life, but then again, thereâs never been a moment like this. where her stupid feelings are in your hands all because of andy. is protecting her from humiliation not included in his chip? she supposes itâs not entirely his fault. itâs not like she could shut up about you if she even tried.
âwanna crash in my bed tonight?â
this gets her full attention, blue eyes peering at your reflection in the glass, while you continue to talk, âyou know...without andy there...just us...â
rain freezes. she doesn't answer you, and she doesn't even blink. the way the word 'us,' leaves your lips, timid, and makes her feel faint for a very brief moment. marking you two as something more than you already are. then, your gentle voice pulls her from her thoughts.
âi mean,â you shrug, âlove him, obviously, butâŠdonât need him snitching on us.â
rain clears her throatâ almost and somehow choking on her own saliva while she does so. youâre bold, having the knowledge sheâs wrapped around your finger, and managing to pull her in even more, leaving her breathless and in a trance. her eyes flutter, nervously nodding her head, ây-yeahâyes.â
you smile amidst biting your bottom lip, rainâs gaze flickering to the tender skin.
âcould weâŠgo now?â rain suggests apprehensively, partly because the idea of returning to your friends like that didnât just unfold terrorized her, and the other partâŠshe just wanted to be in your bed. with you. alone.
and much to her relief, you nod, wanting the same thing.
that is, after andy is dropped off, of course.
#thank you for the request >.<đđ#rain x reader#rain carradine x reader#alien: romulus fanfiction#rain carradine fic#rain carradine fics#rain carradine fanfic#rain carradine fanfication#rain carradine#wlw fanfic#horror fanfic#horror x reader#final girl x reader#horror fics#horror fic#horror fanfiction#why are you still reading this? do you want me??
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A Star Thatâs Out of Reach (Chapter 14)
[Previous] - [x]
[Masterlist]
Hello, I have crawled out of my hidey-hole to finally release a new chapter! Sorry my posting is so inconsistent. I donât know if itâs a good or bad thing, but this chapter might be a fair bit longer than usual. Please enjoy while I make a start on the next chapter!
â x â
âUgh, why is it so hard shopping for guys?â Amy huffed in annoyance as she stared at a display of chocolates. Blaze stood beside her, scanning the selection. She then looked at Amy quizzically.
âWhy are you so eager to get Shadow a gift?â Blazeâs question only seemed to frustrate Amy further, as if the answer should have been obvious.
âI already told you that we are dating! People who date get each other gifts.â She paused for a moment and looked towards the chocolates again, as if hoping they would provide some sort of answer. âBesides, I feel bad that I rushed out of his house last night. He probably thinks I hate him.â
âPerhaps,â Blaze agreed, causing Amy to pout at her with furrowed brows. âBut didnât you say you were on some sort of trial period? If thatâs the case, why are you working so hard to act like his girlfriend when youâre not officially dating?â
Amyâs expressed eased a little. She let out a sigh to calm herself before speaking. âEven if thatâs true, heâs still my friend. I want to show him that Iâm sorry for how I reacted. Besides, thereâs no harm in me putting my best foot forward to show him Iâm a capable girlfriend, right?â
Blaze paused for a moment to think. âI suppose youâre correct. I just worry youâre coming on too strongly. I donât know Shadow as well as you, but he is much more the reserved type. If it were me, I think being showered with love so early into a relationship would make me feel more guarded.â
Amy gulped nervously. She hadnât even considered that she could be so affectionate that it was off-putting. Then again, it would explain why Sonic had been so resistant to her all these years. As if she willed it into existence through her thoughts, Sonic suddenly appeared beside her.
âChocolates, huh?â he observed, his hand on his chin as if to appear thoughtful. Â
âS-Sonic!â Amy exclaimed, flinching from his sudden entrance. âWhat are you doing here?â
âJust making the rounds,â he vaguely replied, then looked over her shoulder at Blaze. âIs Silver not with you?â
âI believe he went to tend to his garden,â Blaze replied matter-of-factly. âHe didnât want to neglect it just because he was on a break.â
âAh, I guess that makes sense,â Sonic acknowledged. âTime stops for no one, even time-travellers.â He chucked to himself, amused at his own joke. He then glanced between Amy and Blaze, noting their varied expressions. While Blaze seemed unamused, Amy appeared preoccupied, worried even. âEverything alright, Ames?â
She glanced up and stared for a moment, before forcing a smile. âY-Yeah! Sorry, just daydreamed a little there.â Her smile quickly faltered as she stared at the chocolates again. âI just donât know what to doâŠâ
Sonic looked at the chocolates, then back at Amy. âI get the feeling this has nothing to do with the chocolates. Did something happen?â
Amy opened her mouth to speak, then pause as she realised there was an issue. Her relationship with Shadow was a secret, so for her to explain that she was buying him a gift as an apology would be hard to justify. And given what Blaze had said, was buying him something even the right call? As she was about to delve deeper into her what-ifs, she felt a finger being pressed against her forehead. She followed it to see Sonic raising an eyebrow at her.
âYouâre overthinking something, arenât you?â he deduced with ease. Amy seemed surprised for a moment, but then looked to the ground and sheepishly nodded.
Sonic took his hand away, placing it on his hip with a hum of thought. The thought then crossed his mind that this could be about Shadow, and while it was endearing to discover on the same day that they both worried this much about each other, he also recognised that this was supposed to be a secret. If Amy were to find out that he knew, it could spell all kinds of trouble, and he certainly couldnât say anything with Blaze around. After some thought, Sonic spoke up again.
âWell, I wonât pry into the matter, but perhaps I can help you find a gift, if thatâs what youâre looking for?â
Amy looked up at Sonic, her face still doubtful. âI donât even know if getting him a gift is a good idea anymore.â Blaze had a look of recognition as she discerned that she had put undue stress on Amy.
âPerhaps a small gift couldnât hurt,â she clarified with a slightly guilty tone. âSomething to show you care without being too imposing?â
Amyâs face lit up slightly. She glanced at the chocolates, now looking at the smaller boxes. She picked one up and presented it to Sonic and Blaze with a gleeful smile. âWhat about these?â
Sonic looked at the chocolates, noting the array of flavours. He wasnât entirely sure what Shadowâs preferences for snacks were or if this gift was even for him in the first place. It felt a little risky to him to get something that could easily be a miss.
âChocolates could work, but do you know what flavours this person actually likes?â Sonic wondered aloud, giving Amy pause. She stared at the box, then gingerly put it back.
âYouâre right,â she agreed. âMaybe food gifts are a little risky for now. What could I get that is likely to be accepted no matter what?â
Sonic thought for a second before coming up with an idea, his face lighting up. âWhat about flowers?â
Blaze nodded in agreement. âItâs hard to dislike flowers. And even if said person doesnât like flowers, theyâll die soon enough anyway.â
Amy smiled awkwardly at Blazeâs comment. âEver the romantic, huh?â Blaze had a look of slight worry and glanced at Sonic, waiting for him to ask what Amy meant by her comment. He gave an innocent smile in return, but unbeknownst to her, what she feared had happened did â Sonic now knew for certain that this was about Shadow. The comment had slipped out of Amy and she didnât seem to notice the blunder, but neither Blaze nor Sonic commented on it. It was because of his silence that Blaze wondered if Sonic knew of the situation. Either way, she wasnât about to ask and risk exposing Amyâs secret, and Sonic found himself in a similar position.
âI donât know how helpful Iâll be with flower shopping,â Sonic commented, shifting the focus away from Amyâs remark. âBut Iâd be happy to help if you need it.â
Amy paused for a moment to consider, unsure whether it was a good idea to have Sonic help considering the target of the present. Sure, Sonic had rejected her, but was it really okay for him to come along to get a gift for her current love interest? Then again, it may be suspicious to reject his help. On top of that, Sonic was a friend and a regular part of her life â she couldnât avoid him forever. She eventually smiled at him and spoke; âThe more the merrier!â
The three of them went to the garden section of the store, looking around. Sonic tried to hide the fact he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, while Blaze carefully examined the flowers. Her face quickly formed a frown and she turned to Amy. âI hate to sound pedantic, but maybe we should go to a more specialised store. A lot of the flowers here donât look healthy at all.â
Amy nodded, seemingly already having concluded the same. âYeah, I was beginning to wonder.â She looked up and smiled at Blaze and Sonic. âI think thereâs a florist store nearby though â letâs go!â
Upon arriving at the next store, Amyâs eyes lit up. The arrangement of flowers felt utterly mesmerising, and for a moment the excitement made her forget while she was there. She gently patted her cheeks to get into the zone and then entered the store with a renewed zeal. Sonic and Blaze began to wander, though Blaze got distracted by a section for seeds, thinking they could make a good gift for Silver. She glanced at Amy hoping to catch her attention to ask if she could browse for herself, but she seemed to be entirely in her own world, so Blaze decided that it would be okay. Sonic glanced around the store, but was completely out of his element. He stood beside Amy, who didnât seem to notice.
âSo do you have any idea what your friend might want?â He asked, which startled Amy a little.
âIâm just gathering inspiration for the moment,â she replied. She looked up and her eyes immediately widened at what she saw. âWait, thatâs it!â She swiftly left Sonicâs side and stood in front of a floral arrangement with lavender and pink roses. Her eyes remained fixed on it and she felt a tightness in her chest.
Sonic took his place beside her again and smiled. He knew for certain that this was for Shadow and he found it rather endearing that this bouquet somehow perfectly matched both him and Amy. âIt seems you have found the perfect gift,â Sonic observed, trying to remain vague.
Amy smiled with a warmth that Sonic had never seen before. He so desperately wanted to comment on it, but he knew that would mean exposing he knew about her relationship with Shadow. After a moment of daydreaming, she carefully selected one of the arrangements and carried it to the checkout. The entire time the transaction took place, a grin was plastered on her face as the romantic side of her mind ran wild. After paying, she turned and saw Blaze behind her in the queue with a selection of seeds. She giggled a little and moved to let her through. Blaze joined Amy and Sonic after she bought the seeds and it dawned on them that theyâd need to go their separate ways.
âI apologise Amy,â Blaze spoke softly. âI was supposed to be helping you and I got distracted.â
Amyâs smile didnât falter in the slightest at this. âItâs no problem at all! Besides, this shopping trip was for both of us. Iâm just glad we both found something.â
Blaze glanced at her seeds, then looked to the sun in order to gauge the time. âI best get these to Silver before he leaves the garden. He may also need my assistance given how much I bought for him.â Amy chuckled a little at the comment.
âFancy racing me there?â Sonic suggested, already stretching his legs.
Blaze had an amused smirked on her face. âVery well. I could do with a bit of exercise.â She then looked to Amy, who gave an approving nod. Seemingly in an instant, the two of them disappeared in a blur.
Amy stood there for a moment, then glanced down at her flowers. âGuess I should get these to Shadow, huh?â Despite speaking her thoughts aloud, she found herself frozen in place. After a moment, she let out a decisive sign and turned to walk to his house. By the time she arrived, the sun had begun to set. She approached his door, but her fist hesitated just before it made contact. As she worked to get her courage, the door suddenly flew open, causing her to let out a brief scream.
âMy my,â Rouge spoke in amusement as she processed what she saw. She smirked, then took Amy by the hand and led her into the living room. She turned and called into the house; âShadow, you have a guest!â Before Amy could object, Rouge headed towards the door. âDonât let me get in your way â good luck!â Within the span of a few seconds, Amy found herself suddenly found herself in a precarious position. Her ear twitched as she heard someone approaching and she swiftly hid the flowers behind her, though she had no idea why.
Shadow wandered into the room with scruffy quills and a dirty towel around his neck. His face morphed from his resting face of grumpiness to pleasant surprise. âAmy? What are you doing here?â He paused for a moment and then seemed a little nervous, remembering what happened the last time they met. âWhere did Rouge go?â
âShe left,â Amy replied. âItâs just us.â
âOh,â Shadow responded, then went quiet for a moment. He then realised that he looked a mess. âSorry, let me go clean up-â
âNo!â Amy blurted, causing Shadow to flinch a little. âI-I mean, thereâs no need! Itâs okay.â The two of them stood silently for a moment, unsure what to do. Admittedly, while Shadow was flattered that she didnât mind his appearance, he found his quills being unkempt rather uncomfortable. He then noticed that Amy seemed to be nervously hiding something behind her back.
âIs everything okay? You seem to be hiding something.â Amy met eyes with him but didnât appear to understand what he meant. She then remembered that she still hadnât given him the bouquet. She moved to hold it in front of her, blushing a little and she held it in front of her face.
âI-I got you these flowers,â she commented sheepishly. Shadow stared at them in awe. He then smiled and approached her, admiring the flowers from up close.
âThank you,â he spoke with a warm softness. âHow did you know lavender was my favourite?â
Still using the flowers to guard her face, she replied; âYou often smell like lavender, so I took an educated guess.â
Shadow smirked playfully, tilting his head a little to try and glance at Amy. âYou know what I smell like?â
Amyâs face grew much redder, becoming much more flustered than even she imagined she could feel. She repositioned the flowers to cover more of her face and spoke shakily. âT-Thatâs not what I meant. Itâs justâŠy-you alwaysâŠâ
Shadow chuckled a little, amused by her performance. He then gently tried to take the flowers, but his expression lessened as Amy continued to tightly grip it. âUhmâŠare you gonna let go of the flowers?â
A few seconds passed with nothing happening, until Amy thrust the flowers in Shadowâs arms. While he was confused, Amy dashed to the couch and threw herself on it, burying her face into a cushion and squealing a little. Shadow stared in disbelief for a moment, then let out an adoring sigh. He decided to let her cool off instead of pushing her further, so he went into the kitchen looking for something to put the flowers in. When he couldnât find anything resembling a vase, he decided to try looking in Rougeâs treasure trove and almost immediately found something appropriate. He figured she may be annoyed at first with him doing this, but heâd figure that later.
He returned to the living room, putting the flowers carefully into the vase before returning his attention to Amy, who was still hiding her face. He took a seat beside Amy, staring at her for a moment. When she didnât move, he gently brushed his finger against her cheek.
âYou can come out, you know,â he spoke affectionately. âI wonât bite.â After considering his words for a moment, Amy decided to sit up, though she still clutched the cushion close to her chest. The lower half her face was covered by it, but she was still red enough that Shadow could see it. âThank you for the flowers, Amy.â
Amy glanced at him and saw his calm, gentle expression. She felt her tension ease a little, so she decided to lower the cushion. âYouâre welcome.â She paused, then continued. âAnd I wanted to apologise for how I left things last time. I wasnât thinking about your feelings enough.â
âIâm sorry too,â Shadow replied, looking away for a moment. âIt should have occurred to me that it would be intense to have you come here, especially with Rouge being around. I underestimated how intimate it would feel.â
Amy lowered the cushion onto her lap, resting her hands atop it to look at Shadow properly. A small smile appeared on her face, though she was a little worried too. âOh Shadow, itâs not your fault at all. I had every opportunity to tell you how I felt. Itâs not up to you to read my mind. Perhaps further down the line if we decide to date officially, we will have spent enough time to pick up on each othersâ quirks, but for now we need to focus on being transparent about how we feel instead of expecting we will perfectly understand how the other is thinking or feeling, okay?â
Shadow returned her gaze once more, then nodded with a smile. âSounds like a plan.â He offered his hand to her, which she took gladly. The two of them sat quietly, but it wasnât tense like it was before. It actually felt rather pleasant. Amy glanced up at him periodically and began to notice that Shadowâs ear was twitching more than usual.
âIs everything okay, Shadow? You seem a littleâŠrestless.â
Shadow looked at Amy, then hestitantly spoke. âAm I being that obvious?â With a little giggle, Amy nodded. Shadow let out a sigh, then continued. âI get a little uncomfortable when my quills arenât neat. I can feel them all too prominently.â He paused, then added; âI donât suppose that makes any sense.â
Amy gently squeezed Shadowâs hand. âIt makes plenty of sense, donât worry! Would you like me to brush your quills for you?â
Shadow considered the offer for a moment. âYou donât mind?â
âOf course not! In fact, Iâd be honoured if you would let me help.â Shadow warmly smiled, flattered by her willingness to help make him comfortable, even though this seemed a menial task in his mind. He briefly left the room to grab a brush and handed it to Amy, before sitting on the floor in front of her.
She began softly brushing out his quills, and much to his surprise, he found it extremely relaxing. He couldnât explain what it was about it that made him feel so comfortable, but he decided to just yield to the feeling, so he closed his eyes and leaned against the couch. Amy grinned, glad to see him so at ease. She noticed his ears droop a little and she found the sight rather cute, but she dare not comment on it for fear of ruining the moment. For a brief moment, Shadow felt a rumble in his throat and quickly stopped it, but not before Amy heard it. To her, it sounded almost like the start of a purr, but she decided not to mention on it.
âAaand done!â Amy announced triumphantly. Shadow opened his eyes again and came out of his trance, though admittedly he felt a little more tired than he did before. He brushed a hand over his quills as if to inspect it and smiled, pleased at the results.
âThank you, Amy. I feel much better now because of you.â Shadow stood up and turned to Amy. They smiled at one another until Amyâs eyes drifted to the clock.
âOh shoot, I need to go and get dinner started!â She started to head towards the door, then paused and turned to Shadow. âDidâŠyou want to come?â
Shadow paused to consider for a moment. âWhoâll be there?â
Amy placed her index finger on her chin and tilted her head in thought. âPretty muchâŠeveryone?â
Shadow wrestled with what to do, but ultimately shook his head. âSorry, I donât think I can handle that right now.â
Amy smiled with understanding. âNot to worry, I thought that might be your answer. But I didnât want to assume.â She approached the door and went to leave, but before she opened the door, she looked to Shadow again. âCan I see you at our spot tomorrow?â
Shadow grinned excitedly. âOf course.â And with a renewed joy, Amy left the house. Shadow stood there for a moment, then signed in relief. âThank goodness weâre okay,â he spoke to himself.
#a star thatâs out of reach fanfic#shadow the hedgehog#amy rose#shadamy#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sth#blaze the cat#rouge the bat#sonic fanfiction#sth fanfic#nagichi writes
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â Donât think you can hurt MY Family and leave. Alive. â
..::..
This took!! So long!! My eyes started going static-y from sitting/working for so long bUT MAN IM HAPPY! I never draw stuff like this TvT
#tai arts#khr#katekyo hitman reborn#khr oc#ale raucci#ale things#novana#I USUALLY KEEP RAMBLING TO TAGS BUT#damn i havent been THIS proud of something in a LOOOOOONG time#thank god the Flames are blurred all to hell so you canât tell I only did one pass on them with the wrong brush |D#100% if aleâs face didnt turn out so good I would have quit#i think i said on call last night while I was working on this how it just DIDNT look like I drew it for a solid 3 hours#also no the mirrors arent just a random thing#theyre tied into Novana Family powers and shit!!!
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yeah I'm not gonna talk abt it am I...
#well thats okay. eventually itll come up naturally. and if not well. it doesnt make me feel very okay. but its not a big deal#and i guess ill meet ppl in the future who will curate a different idea of me and maybe therell be fewer misunderstandings#<- coward who CAN communicate to save their life but not in any lower stakes situation for their happiness n quality of life#we <3 repression n insecurity. maybe if i keep digging at the corner of this bit of the labyrinth with my spoon ill get out someday đ#anyway.. theres my daily vague vent post got it out of my system#wanted to do it earlier but ended up not having much time after work n then called friends which was nice :^)#also i never have signal at work these days.. my boss has said shell get me on the staff wifi tho cuz i do need it for work reasons#its rare to need it for work purposes bc we all use work pcs n stuff anyway and not rly supposed to use mobiles in the lab#but yeahh.. god i have so much admin shit to sort out also gotta text family back before i sleep i forgot to earlier#its all good.. also my memory foam pillows turned up so i no longer have to steal my roomies extra one for my neck pain <3#ik she was missing it... not to sound like a creep but it was nice that it smelled like her a little. just familiar innit#we're always around each other so its just what being home smells like to me.. listen i have a sensitive nose đâïž#if we were a lot closer i would ask if i could sleep in her bed while shes away but we're not so it would come across sooo weird..#and i would feel rly weird abt someone sleeping in my own room without me there. well maybe not actually. as long as they werent snooping#<- guy whose mother used to go thru their shit all the time n struggles to not feel paranoid and distrustful when it comes to privacy#was thinking recently my ideal living situation w a partner would be separate rooms but we still share the bed sometimes#but not every night bc im a sensitive sleeper... but we can switch bedding so i can still smell them if i wake up in the night alone#like how new mothers trying to get babies used to cot sleeping each have a cloth or blanket and swap every night#so the baby is comforted by the blankets smell and sleeps more peacefully.. and momma finds it easier being apart from the baby too#sorry this is getting gooey and weird my meds have been wearing off the last couple hours im so sleeppyyyy đ#well.... maybe everything can wait until tomorrow..... bed is calling..#goodnight everyone muah#.diaries
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my mother is gaslighting me again
#she barged into my room and started asking me a bunch of questions#and she did this last night too#like this is my only safe place in the house and now it doesnât feel safe#I was annoyed at her bc she interrupted me while I was in the middle of something#and she kept asking me if I was alright#and when I said finally I was annoyed with her she got pissed off and then told me I was mean and selfish#I donât understand what I did wrong#all I want is to be left alone at the end of the day#and she canât understand that and she thinks im âantisocialâ and somethingâs wrong#I want to cry#I just wanted to be left alone and to play my video games bc im tired#she said she hates the fact I have a computer now#she thinks itâs the computerâs fault but itâs all hers#she canât understand that sheâs in the wrong#I donât know what she wants from me#she keeps telling me im selfish and sheâs called me so many names by now and I donât get it#and even now when im typing this i feel like im a selfish person bc somehow its my fault even though i know its not#or is it i donât even know anymore#i just wish i could understand how her mind works and why im always in the wrong
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AITA for telling my boyfriendâs coworkers that heâs lying about his body count?
I (35f) have been dating my boyfriend (32m) for four years. Itâs honestly been the best relationship until last Friday when it all went down. I feel like Iâm in the right, but now Iâm wondering if I overstepped.
For context, my boyfriend has been a professional Slasher for about eight months now. Heâs always really admired Cryptids, Monsters, and Nightmares so when his application was finally accepted, he was over the moon even if he was starting in a lower position than he initially applied for.
At his company, being a Slasher requires a lot of travel which we knew when he accepted the position. The end goal is for him to get a promotion to at least regional Nightmare (he wants Cryptid, but that position doesnât have a lot of turnover) but to get that he needs to be in role for at least 12 months OR meet his goals for three months in a row. Once he promotes, we plan to relocate to his new region and âstart talking about our future.â
(Side note: no this isnât about him not popping the question yet. We are both in agreement that marriage comes after financial stability. I run a small business doing scare consults and, while itâs been growing, I wouldnât call it stable yet. So neither of us are ready.)
I told him itâs completely normal for it to take a whole year before heâs ready to promote and he really should focus on adjusting to the company before thinking about next steps. I used to work for a competitor (Iâve been retired for five years now) and I know it can be hard to go from only taking the occasional human life to having to take over half a dozen a week. Itâs not a light workload, no matter how easy it looks in the movies. One of my best friends Slashes part-time and she still only averages about five lives a week despite having done it for years. Especially these days, it can be really hard to meet quota. Humans are getting smarter, no matter what the Council wants us to think.
Anyway, boyfriend didnât do as well as he thought he would in his first couple months. Totally understandable, of course, which I told him. I suggested he ask his boss if he could be put on a couple team assignments or even a duo until he got the hang of it. That was our first real fight. He thought I was doubting his ability to kill. He brought up how I told him it would take over a year to promote and how I said that this job wasnât for everyone (His first assignment ended with a 0% kill rate, but thatâs a different story). He said it felt like I didnât believe in him and he said that if that was the case then maybe we shouldnât be thinking about marriage so soon.
It got pretty messy after that. I felt like he was forgetting that Iâd worked in the same field and, arguably, had a lot more experience (not to brag, but I averaged a 98% kill rate). Also, four years is NOT too soon to talk about marriage. He said I didnât understand how he needed to focus on his career right now. I told him I thought he was taking Slasher too lightly just because it wasnât Cryptid. He accused me of not respecting him and then things spiraled from there.
We both said a lot of things we didnât mean and Iâm embarrassed that it turned into a bit of a fang measuring contest. I ended up sleeping under the bed for a few nights until he coaxed me out to apologize.
It was a rough patch, but we talked it out. We agreed that, going forward, I wouldnât offer advice unless he asked and he would try not to take so much of his frustration home with him. He took a weekend off and we went on a recreational haunting trip in the Montana woods.
Things did get better after that. I tried not to give him consults every time he came back from a work trip. He started bringing me souvenirs like roses and cursed puzzle boxes his work said he could have. It became easier just to hang out with each other and it felt like we were back to normal.
But then, four months ago, he came home super pissed because his boss put him on a PIP. (A performance improvement plan.) Apparently, boyfriend had not been doing better at work, he had just stopped telling me when he had a bad assignment. I saw the paperwork he got (he left it in the dungeon under the house, I didnât go through his stuff) and heâs been missing quota by a LOT. As a junior Slasher, he was supposed to be executing at least 6 people a week, but heâd been lucky to be maiming half that.
Obviously, I had to talk to him about that. We rent our house and, even though I could have afforded the rent on my own, I didnât want to jeopardize the investments I was making in my business (I was in the process of hiring an assistant to handle my scheduling). Plus, we agreed from day one that we would be 50/50 on rent and I would take care of the rest of the bills because I earned more. I felt that if his financial situation was in jeopardy, he needed to talk to me about it.
I tried to approach him a bit differently than last time. I asked him if there was anything I could do to help. I told him about my slasher friend and how maybe she could give him advice if he didnât want any from me. But he said he needed to figure stuff out on his own and that if he couldnât get himself off the PIP then he would go back to work for his dadâs janitorial company.
I let it go. I was worried but I didnât want to fight again just after patching the holes from the last blow out. It really bugged me that he thought I didnât believe in him so I committed to giving him the benefit of the doubt. I said okay and asked him if he needed me to meal prep for both of us that week. He offered me grocery money, but I said it was fine since Iâd had to deal with a lot of humans breaking in lately and I still had some leftover in the dungeon.
Fast forward a month. Boyfriend got off the PIP super fast. He worked his way off of it over Spring Break and started taking on a lot of extra assignments. In just four weeks he went to Miami Beach twice, New York City twice, and to three separate summer camps. I missed him and it was hard not having him around but I remembered how he said he needed to focus on his career and I tried not to nag.
It was hard not to nag though. With him gone, all the housework fell on me. We rent a 19th century manor, and its upkeep really does need two people. Doing all the chores plus running my business started to really drain me. Even when he was home, he forgot to banish the ghosts (my chore is to kill all invading humans, and his chore is to banish their ghosts) and he never took out the trash. I think he cleaned blood off the dungeon walls once, but then I had to basically redo it because he missed a lot of spots.
But still, I didnât say anything because he was doing really well at work and I didnât want to ruin that for him. Even when Humans started breaking in every week, I didnât complain even though it interrupted my work day.
Last month though, I did ask him if we could move somewhere that needed less maintenance. There were just way too many Humans breaking in and I didnât have the time to deal with them anymore. Even if I donât do all the theatrics I used to as a Cryptid, killing humans through fear still takes a lot of time. He asked me if I didnât appreciate the free meat, and I said I would appreciate it more if I wasnât the only butchering it.
He said he didnât want to move because he was really close to getting promoted to regional Nightmare and he didnât want to take time off work to move. I was so surprised that I couldnât hide how surprised I was. He saw and got offended. He asked if I still didnât believe in him. I said that I did, but it was a huge jump to go from an 8% kill rate to getting promoted.
He got even more mad at me for bringing up his stats and he said that he had nearly 80% kill rate since being put on the PIP. I asked how many humans a week he was slashing and he told me I was being too nosy and that was proof that I didnât believe in him.
I asked him if we could at least hire a ghoul then to keep the humans out of my office and he said he didnât want to waste the money that we should be saving for our new house. I asked him what he wanted me to do then? I had to take phone calls for my consulting business and it was really hard to stalk humans all around the house while trying to sound like a professional to my clients.
He asked me to be patient for one more month. He said if he met quota for one more month, his boss said heâd get promoted. So I said fine and let it go.
Fast forward to now, almost a full month later.
Last Friday, I attended the Eldritch Conference. For those not in the scare field, the Eldritch Conference is the most prestigious event in our industry. Itâs invitation only and is a chance to network with all the big players in the field. Mothman, the Jersey Devil, Bloody Mary and Bigfoot all spoke this year and both my former company, Grudge Industries, and my boyfriendâs current company, Forgotten Summer Solutions, were invited.
I was surprised to get an invite as a solo contributor to the field. However, my consulting firm has really been doing well and I did land a seasonal contract with the Yeti Co-op which I guess is how they heard about me. Plus, Iâve been a speaker before so I think the organizers knew I would behave myself.
I was planning on telling my boyfriend that I was going, but he was out of town on a co-ed sleepover assignment. He usually doesnât have his phone on during his assignments, so I didnât bother calling him. I just figured itâd be nice if we ran into each other at the conference if he made it back in time.
Which brings me to what actually happened (apologies for the long post).
So everything went great for my part of the day. I got to network with a lot of individual businesses and even got to reconnect with Blood Mary who I knew back in my Cryptid days. I told her I was dating a Slasher from Forgotten Summer Solutions and invited her to come with me to check out their booth. I thought it would be fun to grab dinner with her after since I assumed if my boyfriend was there, heâd be going out with coworkers which he often does. Plus, I admit, I was showing off a little. I donât often get the chance to brag about my Cryptid days.
She agreed and we went over to see if my boyfriend was there.
I introduced myself to the people manning the booth. My boyfriend wasnât there, but a few Slashers recognized my name and greeted me. They were definitely in awe of Bloody Mary (she came in full uniform) and invited us to look at their displays. They had portfolios for each Slasher on the desk as a sort of preview of what their services looked like.
While Bloody Mary looked through the portfolios, I chatted with my boyfriendâs coworkers. They said they were thrilled to work with him and that, even though he had a really rough start, it was impressive how quickly he started meeting his goals. Something about how they talked about his work kind of didnât make sense. They were talking like he was killing a dozen humans a week, but heâd told me that he was at 80% on his assignments which typically only offer about ten humans each.
I asked them about it and they said that heâd been Slashing during After Hours which is a new goal supplement program his company launched a few months ago. Basically, anyone can sign up for After Hours and the company counts human kills done in uniform as part of their quota. I asked them if this was available to them while they were on assignment and they said no, it had to be done when they had down time. I asked them how my boyfriend was part of that when he was traveling all the time and they looked confused. One of them said that my boyfriend is still getting one assignment per week and is then supplementing his kill rate with After Hours.
At that point, I was even more confused. It sounded like my boyfriend had been lying to me then, because he told me that he was getting at least two assignments a week. If he was only getting one, then where was he going when he said he was traveling?
Bloody Mary interrupted before I could say anything and asked how their Slashers did their kills. They said that every Slasher at their company is required to use a standard issue weapon (like a machete or axe) for their kills to count. They said their company doesnât count accidents as part of their quota (like falling or heart attacks).
Bloody Mary pulled me aside and showed me the portfolio she was holding. She said that she was going to give me a chance to explain without them overhearing and showed me the book. She said that a bunch of kills in it looked Cryptid kills. And she said, specifically, it looked like the kills I made when I was a Cryptid. I took the book from her and flipped through it and she was right, they really did look like Cryptid kills. Worse, I recognized a few of the Humans from the past few weeks. They were actually my kills!
Kill stealing is a major taboo in our industry.
I told her I didnât know anything about this. She looked really relieved at that and said that even though I wasnât a Cryptid anymore, it would look really bad for me if I was caught helping a Slasher cheat at their job. It could affect my business which sheâd only heard good things about.
Iâm embarrassed to say that I tried to defend him. Heâs new to our industry so I thought it might be a mistake. He might not be trying to cheat, this could be a misunderstanding.
She said she didnât think so because a mistake would be one or two of my kills mixed in with his, not the entire book.
I counted up how many photos were in the book and, all told, of the 146 kills, at least 100 were mine. I couldnât really say it was a mistake at that point and I was just staring at his portfolio like an idiot. Bloody Mary asked me what I was going to do because, mistake or not, this looked really bad and could damage my reputation if it got out.
At that moment, another man walked up to booth and asked us if there was a problem. I knew that if I said anything, I would be jeopardizing my boyfriendâs job, but if I didnât say something, I was jeopardizing my business.
I told my boyfriendâs coworkers that he was lying about his body count. I said I didnât think that they knew he was doing it, but over half of the kills in his portfolio werenât his and I suggested they remove it from their display before another Cryptid came by and realized it.
The other man thanked me for bringing this to his attention and asked how we knew. Bloody Mary said that she knew another Cryptidâs kills and I had to tell them that I was that Cryptid, though I was retired now. He asked me if I knew my boyfriend was doing this, and I told him no.
I told him I really didnât want to get my boyfriend in trouble and suggested that maybe he didnât know those kills didnât belong to him because they happened in our house. I was grasping at straws and Blood Mary even looked sad for me. His coworkers looked skeptical but tentatively agreed. The man â who turned out to my boyfriendâs boss â said that they would investigate this thoroughly and apologized personally for his employeeâs misconduct.
I was spiraling at that point so I thanked him and said I wasnât mad, I was just looking out for both of our reputations. He promised to keep it between us and I agreed.
Then I apologized to Bloody Mary because I didnât feel like eating dinner anymore. She said she understood and wished me well.
I went home and did a quick perimeter search of the property. Sure enough, there were human summoning stones ALL OVER the yard. Which means my boyfriend was intentionally luring humans to our house to get me to kill them so he could take credit. It wasnât a mistake at all.
My boyfriend came home later that night in his work clothes. As soon he got inside he started yelling. He said he was suspended without pay and that all his hard work was for nothing.
I said I knew heâd been stealing my kills and he almost ruined my reputation. He said they still counted as his kills because he did all the work of luring the humans to our house.
I told him that wasnât how it worked and he knew it. He said it was the same as setting a trap and I was taking this too seriously. I told him that, as a Slasher, he has to use a weapon to get his kills, not me. He said I was basically the same thing since I had such a high kill rate. I asked him if he was calling me an object.
(My parents exploited me by selling me as a haunted doll through a lot of my childhood and he knows Iâm sensitive to being called an object.)
He backpedaled at that point and asked if I didnât want to buy a house together. He said he was doing it for us and I shouldâve understood and not said anything. I told him that when I was a Cryptid I had my pride and wouldâve never done this.
He said I needed to tell his boss that he was the one who made all those kills. I said it wasnât me who recognized them as Cryptid kills and now his boss knew too. He accused me of thinking Iâm better than him because I have telekinetic powers and can move through shadows and can possess people, while heâs basically a human himself. I told him of course not and that I worked hard for those powers unlike him.
He got really mad at that and actually charged at me with his machete raised. I donât think he was going to actually hit me, but I reacted like he was. It was all instinct. I disarmed him and I swear I heard a crack when I grabbed his wrist. I shoved him into the wall.
 He crumpled to the floor and started crying. He said sorry and sort of curled up around his wrist. He said he didnât ever feel like he was enough for me and he didnât even know why I was still with him. He called himself a bunch of names and said I would be better off without him.
I sort of awkwardly stood there for a minute. On one hand I wanted to assure him that he was enough and that I loved him, but, on the other, I wasnât sure I could forgive him. He nearly ruined my reputation, and he embarrassed me in front of Bloody Mary. Plus, I still didn't know where heâd been going all those times he said he was on a business trip and apparently wasnât.
So I ended up not saying anything. I went to our room and started packing a bag. He followed me. He was still crying as he begged me not to go. He said he would own up to his kill steals at work and he would make it right. He pleaded for me not to leave him and that he would give up slashing.
I told him I needed space to think. He tried to grab me, but I shadow walked out of the house. I heard him screaming from outside and I hurriedly drove away.
Now Iâm at my friendâs house and I told her everything. She agreed I did the right thing walking away from him, but when I asked her what I should do she hesitated. She said that my boyfriend wasnât right to kill steal but, as a fellow Slasher, she understood what he was going through. She said I wouldnât understand the pressure to meet quota because I was always surpassing mine when I was in the field. She said that a Cryptid could never understand a Slasher.
She also said that nobody would have found out about his kills if I hadnât brought them to his bossâ attention. She said the only time kills are on display like that is at the Eldritch Conference and by the next one, heâd have had kills of his own. She thinks that if Iâd just confronted him at home, he wouldnât be on suspension.
So now Iâm worried that I overreacted when I told my boyfriendâs coworkers that he was lying about his body count.
AITA?
----
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habits of a clandestine nature | jjk
pairing:Â collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)
warnings:Â college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao
wordcount:Â 16k
note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.
Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.
You already know who it isâor at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.
Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.
From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.
All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.
Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.
It's not that you actively want to see him.
You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.
He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three monthsâbut school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.
God-forbid Jeon Jungkookâson of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the universityâever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.
The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.
In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.
Has told you a lot.
Told you far too much.
Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.
Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.
And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.
You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.
But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape:Â I know you.
You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.
It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.
But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.
Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?
Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.
The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.
The things he didâand the things he didn't doâcorrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.
The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.
For a minute, you feel vindicated.
It doesn't last.
For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.
The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secretsâno matter how pure they actually areâbecome the talk of the town.
He always slept well in your bedroom, though.
Funny, that.
He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.
Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.
The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.
"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.
Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live thereâyou, Maria, and Taehyungâand you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.
"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.
They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.
There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.
It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.
"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"
"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"
"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."
On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.
Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.
Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.
After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.
Namjoonâone of the Botanists and the birthday boy himselfâhas started padlocking the greenhouses.
Another one of themâYoongiâminored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.
Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.
"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"
"Obviously."
"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."
"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."
Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.
And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.
While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.
But summer was lonely.
Or at least it was.
Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.
Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"
The conversation dissolves into plansâwhat to wear, what drink to take.
After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.
When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.
"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.
Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.
Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.
But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.
He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, tooâbut then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.
A routine grew. Habits formed.
Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.
Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.
The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.
He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.
And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.
Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.
But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.
Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."
"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him nakedânot like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.
You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.
The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.
But he was, and it was lovely.
The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your headâor at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.
"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."
It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.
Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.
Spent weeksâmonthsâlaying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.
But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.
Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.
You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.
It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.
"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.
"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.
"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"
On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.
"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."
A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.
"Sure."
There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.
"You think I can't be trusted?"
"I think it's foolish to trust any man."
His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.
"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"
"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.
"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"
With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."
"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.
"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"
"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.
"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.
Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."
Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.
A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.
And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?
His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.
Have you not served him enough?
You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.
"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the billsâbut like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.
He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.
"Excuse me, sir."
Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.
"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.
More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.
Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.
Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.
You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.
Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.
"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."
Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.
Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.
You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.
"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."
21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.
You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.
As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.
But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.
Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.
But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.
You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.
Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.
It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.
In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.
"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"
The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.
It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud.Â
In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.
But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.
You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.
Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.
Where you at? It could read. I'm here.
Or maybe, I miss you.
I can't sleep without you.
This is so stupid. Can I come over?
It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.
Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.
You:Â you not coming in tonight?
You:Â you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x
You:Â ... at least let me know if ur alive?
Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.
Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.
Jackass Wang:Â party tonight
You:Â so????
One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.
Jackass Wang:Â so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery
"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.
It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.
Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.
You:Â i like it better when i don't see you x
Jackass Wang:Â you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.
You:Â they'd rather die :) x
Jackass Wang:Â y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ÂŻ\_(ă)_/ÂŻ
You:Â you just can't take no for an answer
Jackass Wang:Â yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.
You:Â so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????
The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.
Jackass Wang:Â conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.
You:Â charming x
Jackass Wang:Â it's why the ladies love me.
You:Â all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.
Jackass Wang:Â can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.
The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.
Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.
Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.
Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.
"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.
Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.
"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"
Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"
His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.
Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."
He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.
"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"
"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."
"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."
"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."
Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.
"Don't give me that bull."
"It's not bull!"
"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"
"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"
His expression is flat. You are paper thin.
He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.
He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.
"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"
"No!"
Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.
Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"
"I'm not!"
"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"
Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.
"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."
"Yes, we are."
"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.
"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."
"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.
He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.
"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"
With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.
"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."
You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.
As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself:Â take a sip every time you want to cry.
By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.
"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.
There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.
Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.
Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.
Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.
It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.
But he did, and you damn well know it.
Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.
"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."
But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."
You're silent when he says this.
Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.
But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeksâmonthsâplaying in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.
Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are backâbut when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.
"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."
Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.
Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.
Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.
He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.
"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."
"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's beenâ"
"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."
He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.
They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.
Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.
"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."
"Who?" Jimin chirps.
Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."
"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"
"I said leave it."
"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.
"No one."
"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her assâ"
"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."
"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."
Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.
"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.
They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?
"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.
It's not that he's ashamed.Â
It's that you're separate.
When he's with you, all of thisâthe bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apartâdissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.
If you were to ever become a part of his lifeâhis real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summerâthen it'd all change.
He doesn't want that.
He wants you to be a safe haven.
A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.
But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.
He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.
"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"
With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."
"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"
"You really have to ask?"
For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.
They always have done.
When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.
Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.
How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.
Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.
When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.
So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.
"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"
"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."
Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.
The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.
It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.
The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.
The irony isn't lost on you.
"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"
"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.
If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of himâand given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.
All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.
One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.
When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.
You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.
Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.
Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.
"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardensâthe same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."
"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."
"It's not my new homeâ"
"MONTGOMERY!"
The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.
"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."
Nothing happened between you.
It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.
"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.
"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."
Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.
Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cĆur is, disappointingly, something you expected.
It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.
"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.
Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."
As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.
How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.
"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."
Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.
A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.
"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."
It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.
They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.
And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.
Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.
The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.
Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail.Â
Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.
In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.
Summer becomes you, he thinksâadoresâfrom afar.
The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.
Had it been springâthe brain of the yearâwhen he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.
Had it been winterâthe cunt of the year, for lack of a better termâhe would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.
But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.
A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.
"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.
The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.
Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.
"Cut the bullshit," he says.
"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"
"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"
Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundryâespecially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.
"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."
Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.
Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.
You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.
"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"
It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.
"Mistaken identity."
"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"
You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.
He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.
"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.
"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."
"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.
With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.
"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."
Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almostâbut you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.
"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."
Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.
He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.
It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.
Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.
This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.
You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.
Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.
As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.
Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.
But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.
"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"
Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."
"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."
And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.
If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.
He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.
But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.
It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.
Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.
"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.
"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."
The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.
"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"
"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."
Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.
"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the timeâ"
"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? Iâ" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "Weâ Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"
It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.
But every cloud has a silver lining.
"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."
He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.
"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."
The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal:Â let me in.
A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.
And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.
Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.
The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.
"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"
You're gonna kill Taehyung.Â
In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.
"Safe," you grimace.
Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"
"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.
"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.
"My sentiments exactly."
Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge
"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."
"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."
Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.
"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.
"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."
Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.
"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.
The bathroom is smallâjust a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.
You wish you didn't.
"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.
"Excuse me?"Â
"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"
"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."
"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"
Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.
And so he doesn't try.
"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"
You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.
Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.
You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.
"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.
"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"
It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.
"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."
"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.
"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."
"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"
"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"
He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."
Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.
"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"
He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.
"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friendsâ"
"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.
"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."
"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.
The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.
"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."
"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"
He's silent, now. Cowardly.
"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."
"You know that's notâ"
"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.
Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.
Feels like it, too.Â
"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.
"Tell you whaâ"
"That you were a virgin."
Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!
Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.
"Hardly relevant, is it?"
"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have knownâ"
"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"
"I didn't ghost you."
"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."
"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"
"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"
"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."
"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."
"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"
The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gagâbut if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.
"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."
You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.
To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.
With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.
Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him awayâbut you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.
With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.
Looks down at you.
Is so close you can smell his aftershave.
A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.
"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."
Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.
The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.
"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.
"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."
He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."
"Why shouldn't I?"
"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."
The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.
Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.
Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.
"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"
The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?
All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.
"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess andâ"
The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.
Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.
And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.
It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.
Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.
An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.
When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.
While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.
He knows they hate himâisn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.
He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.
As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.
And so it's up to him to put you back together again.
"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't haveâ"
His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to. Also knows that he does need to.
"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."
"But Iâ"
"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up."Â
He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.
"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"
His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.
An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).
"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.
The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thoughtâ"
"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? Toâ"
"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong callsâbut I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."
Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.
Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.
It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.
"I want you," he husks against your lips.Â
"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.
"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."
"And what was that?" You encourage.
There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer.Â
Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."
And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?
Frantic in the way your hands are on his bodyâhis arms, his waist, around his throatâthere's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.
The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.
"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.
"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"
"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."
He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.
"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.
"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.
As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.
"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"
You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."
He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.
"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.
"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.
"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.
There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.
"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."
Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."
"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him againâbut it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.
And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.
His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.
"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"
"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.
"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."
With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.
Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.
His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfactionâwhich he does oftenâthe suction only grows stronger.
Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."
The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.
He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.
When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouthâand when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.
Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.
But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.
"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."
If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.
Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.
Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.
You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.
But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.
As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"
Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.
"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."
The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.
"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.
"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.
"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."
It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.
His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.
"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.
"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.
"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."
"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"
"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.
He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.
"S'all there is. They alright?"
"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the frontâonly to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"
"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."
His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.
"I don't care. I don't want themâ"
You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.
"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"
When he's got you like thisâlegs spread, body his to claim, your soul to takeâit's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.
"I promise," you swear.
As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.
"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me rawâ"
"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's youâyet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forgetâ"
"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.
"âbut you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."
With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into youâand he's the one who whines, now.
"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.
"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.
"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."
"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.
You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.
"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.
Your argumentative streak wants to fight.
You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."
His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.
The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.
In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.
Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.
Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."
Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.
He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.
"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.
The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.
You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.
"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."
"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"
His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."
And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.
But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.
Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."
"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.
"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."
"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.
"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole.Â
His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes.Â
Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"
There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."
But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."
"You're stupid."
"You're stupider."
"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before.Â
His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"
"Think you were gonna make me cum."
"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."
His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.
The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.
As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.
The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.
"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.
"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."
You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.
"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.
"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"
It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.
"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.
"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."
The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with.Â
His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.
But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"
That's the thing.
He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.
Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.
"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."
Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.
And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.
"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"
You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.
"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."
It's been half an hour.
He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.
The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck.Â
Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.
Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.
"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches youâthe hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of himâand finds it impossible to be mad.
"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."
"We?" You question, incredibly confused.
"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.
Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.
As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.
Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.
"Sorry, what the fuck?!"
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