#imagine being on the rowing team at some college and on top of that have to work a job and pay for school because you didn’t qualify for
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forfuckssakejim · 13 days ago
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So I’m watching Kelly and Mark rn right? And mark cuban is one of their guest and!!!!???? How and why the fuck is his daughter getting a college scholarship for fucking ROWING. Your dad is mark Cuban for fucks sake????
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starseungs · 3 months ago
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i'd weave words with every chord you strum. hjs.
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han jisung x gn!reader — under the disguise of being part of your department’s documentation team, you aimed to get front row seats at your university festival's battle of the bands competition. what they didn't know was that instead, it was a matter of seeing a certain guitarist’s performance in the best view you could manage.
GENRE/S — fluff, a sprinkle of light angst, battle of the bands au, college au, band guitarist!jisung x student journalist!y/n, crushing from afar • 3.0k words
WARNING/S — y/n tends to worry too much, one-sided romance (for now?), jisung is an engineering student (specialization not specified), y/n is a mass communications student, in the same universe as "the subtle art of cliche confessions. ksm"
( ✒️ ) I FINALLY POSTED A FIC !!! WE CHEERED !!! so sorry if this took too long to those who waited ever since i said i was writing guitarist!jisung 🙇‍♀️ i had trouble trying to complete this fic as well as i could but i still i hope you all enjoy <3
2024 ⓒ starseungs on tumblr. do not steal, repost, or edit.
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Okay, maybe this wasn’t the most sane thing for you to do.
The realization may have settled in late, but it seemed like your brain had already practiced the needed precaution unconsciously. Why else would you willingly slip away from your friends just to risk your life in what was practically a free-for-fall fight for the front row seats of your university festival’s battle of the bands competition this year? Under the disguise of being part of your department’s documentation team, you told your friends you were going to need closer seats in order to do the task your seniors oh-so-graciously gave you.
And it was true—to some extent, at least. The only instructions actually given to you were to attend this year’s program, or more specifically, watch your department’s representative band perform so that you had a better grasp of what you were supposed to write for the short feature post to be posted the next day. It didn’t particularly matter where you were going to be watching, as long as you were there. If anything, you could’ve stayed with your friends in the top-floor seats overlooking the stage and still done your job just fine. But no, this wasn’t just a matter of absolute commitment to the role you inhibited.
It was a matter of seeing a certain guitarist’s performance in the best view you could manage.
Han Jisung was a force to be reckoned with. As the star of the engineering department’s performing arts talent pool, his name was a staple in any event with a performing aspect to it. Adding the fact that he comes from the largest and most successful department in the university, opportunities to shine practically fell out of the sky. With easy access to an abundant budget and a vast network of connections at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from being one of the campus’ golden students. In other words, Han Jisung always had the stage set for him in a snap of a finger.
Sometimes, you thought it was a shame he didn’t pursue music academically. Being part of the fine arts and communications’ student council, there was undoubtedly a greed to have him on your rosters. Your department was the smallest one among the others, so you could only imagine how much exposure could be gained from having him as a representative at performing arts events. It’s embarrassing enough to admit that you were often beaten by other departments in that aspect despite actually being the house with students studying it professionally. But once you saw how Jisung also thrived in his major subjects, all you could do was grit your teeth and agree that he was better off benefiting from the engineering department’s perks.
Curse the guy for being too perfect.
You haven’t even gotten to the fact that he was also unnecessarily attractive to the bone. His big expressive eyes paired with his wide, endearing smile successfully merged together to create what you could describe as the most charming, boyish aura you’ve ever encountered. Though you haven’t actually talked to him even once to cement your claims, his staggering amount of friends across the student body already spoke for itself. How’d he even meet all of them, anyway? And why were you somehow one of the skipped demographics?
Well, perhaps it was fairly believable. The first time you saw Jisung was during both of yours’ freshmen welcoming ceremony, where he joined the last day’s talent showcase with two of his friends who were also entering the engineering department. Now, you didn’t think you were the type to fall so easily with people you haven’t even had a conversation with, but the moment his guitar solo started in the middle of their impromptu band performance, you were smitten. Like Buddha after being enlightened, you suddenly couldn’t be in the same area as him without your eyes automatically steering towards his direction.
At first, it bothered you a bit to be so hyper-aware of someone who you basically knew nothing about aside from the fact that he was in one of the engineering programs and played guitar. You didn’t even know his name—your attention was elsewhere when their group was being introduced during the talent showcase. The only reason you even paid the slightest attention was because you noticed they were going to play instruments, which peaked your interest. And maybe that was what prompted you to go on a detective work spree, trying to figure out who the guy was online. 
Yet, despite finally being successful after a couple tries, you never gained the courage to strike up a conversation. Objectively, there was no reason for the two of you to interact in the first place. You weren’t in the same classes, department, or even forced proximity in events. He was destined to be one of the people up on stage, while your place was always going to be in the shadows of the spotlight, gazing as you wrote all about their glory.
That should have been enough for you. It was the area of your goal expertise anyway. A journalist witnesses and informs—similar to how a star like Jisung should focus on shining. But instead, you were here. Just a few feet from the stage you had just described as if it was some sort of promised land for the deserving. And up there under the flashing stage lights was the one person you were here to see.
Jisung’s performance was enthralling as usual. You didn’t know if this conclusion came from his own desire to dominate the stage with each strum or from your eyes that couldn’t seem to tear away from his form. Perhaps it was both—seeing that you barely even registered the band’s lead singer using a section of the set to create one of the most memorable confessions this university will ever see in a lifetime. No, your attention was solely on the one donning an electric guitar, happily laughing with the bassist as they coo at their bandmate’s display of affection.
You felt the need to capture the moment. In an instant, the small digital camera you carried around during important events was raised up to your eye level, ready to take some snaps. You didn’t even realize that your little session continued until the end of their set, leaving your gallery filled with photos. After blinking away the daze from what you had just done, you hurried to check on them.
Heat immediately creeped up to your face upon seeing the state of your camera’s gallery.
Of course, the majority of them just had to be of Jisung. As if your crushing from afar wasn’t enough, the world just had to upgrade you to a wannabe stalker to emphasize your infatuation with the man. Quickly browsing through the rest of the remaining photos, you examined the extent of the damage done. There was no way you would be able to make use of any of them, so you decided on deleting them at home—for both you and Jisung’s sake.
However, before you could even run away from the scene of the crime, an enthusiastic voice called out to you. “Hey! You with the camera! Wait up!”
You froze in your tracks, looking like a dear in headlights. When you finally gained the courage to look back and face the person who called out to you, a terrified squeak spilled out of your mouth. It was one of Jisung’s close friends you’ve seen with him at times around campus. Unable to function due to the raging storm of worries inside your head, you resorted to just giving up the luxury of running away and apologize if you had to. Still, you hoped that he hadn’t seen you take what looked like a hundred photos of his friend.
Forget celebrities; apparently normal university students have fansites now.
“Hey, sorry for stopping you like that!” The guy said while huffing, trying to catch his breath from the trip over. When he eventually managed to straighten up, he beamed a friendly smile. “The name’s Felix. It’s just that I saw you take some photos of my friends earlier during their set, and I wanted to ask if we could get a few copies? I’m sure they’d really appreciate having some documentation of the moment!”
If you could, you would’ve already passed out because of stress. This was definitely going to be on your list of the top ten worst moments in your life. Luckily, Felix didn’t seem to notice that your camera was mostly focused on Jisung. Even more so, you were very thankful that you had a few photos taken of the whole band and some other members at your disposal, despite practically going autopilot earlier. Yet, you were sure that the world was out to get you today because you couldn’t even respond back to Felix before another voice entered the conversation.
A very familiar one, at that.
“Yo, Lix!” The figure jogged up to the two of you lightly. “We were looking for you in the waiting room. The lovebirds are already together over there, so we were wondering where you fled to. Show’s over, so we need to head over to the dinner place.”
On any other occasion, you would’ve focused on the fact that the event appeared to be already over without you noticing. Except the current situation involved Han Jisung, in the flesh, standing an arms length from where you were positioned. You watched his eyes catch sight of you for the first time since he approached, then proceeded to give you a small bow of greeting. Like a puppet on strings, your body moved on your own accord to reciprocate.
“Damn, my bad. But hey, I saw them taking some photos of you during your performance and thought you might be interested in having copies.” Felix shrugged, gesturing over to you. You didn’t think it was possible for your heart to beat any faster, but now it was almost in cardiac arrest. 
Did he really have to say that? To the guy you took endless photos of like he was a celebrity, nonetheless?
You were on the verge of bursting into tears from the anxiety of the situation. The other two couldn’t see that, though. “Oh, sweet!” Jisung exclaimed, suddenly excited. Your breath hitched from his outburst. “Would it be alright for me to ask for them? It’d be really nice to have a remembrance of the moment—right, I’m Han Jisung, by the way.”
What? “I, uh—” You stammered for a quick second before managing to spit out your name. “Y/N.”
Jisung nods as if pleased by your answer. Then, his eyes furrowed in thought. “Wait, your name sounds really familiar. But I don’t think we’ve met before?” You shook your head almost frantically.
“We haven’t.”
“Exactly!” Jisung snapped his fingers. “So where—Ah!” 
For heaven’s sake, what is it now? Any more of this torment, and you were sure a hole six feet deep was guaranteed for you. Heck, you’d even be willing to be burried alive if any of the two men in front of you found out about what was actually the state of your camera’s gallery—that is, if you don’t accidentally expose yourself first. Unfortunately, that wasn’t a far-off thought at all. As long as whatever Jisung says doesn’t trigger it, you think you would be just fine.
“Don’t you write articles for the fine arts department?” Well, that wasn’t what you were expecting. Instead, your eye twitched involuntarily at the incomplete mention of your department.
“It’s actually the fine arts and communications department, but yes—” You started, placing emphasis on the ‘and communication’ before fully realizing what he has just said. “—Hold on, I beg your pardon?”
Jisung tilted his head a bit in confusion. “Huh? What for?” He chuckles. “Shouldn’t I be the one apologizing for the department name thing?” You gaped at him like a fish. 
There was no way that Han Jisung, the university’s golden boy, knew of someone like you. Not to mention that he allegedly knew you from your little articles for the department of all things. It defied all existing logic in your mind. After all, what was he even doing on your department’s online page? And paying attention to the journalists' names, no less?
“No, uh,” you cleared your throat. “I just—yeah, wasn’t expecting you to know me from that.”
Jisung raised a questioning brow at you, as if he genuinely believed the situation was a given. You stayed silent, mulling over the possible implications that still hadn’t settled in your mind. The conversation only defrosted again with a low whistle. “Well, that’s my cue to leave,” Felix chuckles nervously. “Bye guys. Jisung, I’ll head to the waiting room.” The latter only sees him off with a hum before directing his attention back to you.
“But why not?” He asks in earnest. “I love your articles! I’m not typically a newsreader kind of guy, but the ones you write always make it seem so interesting that I get really invested in the topics. Most especially the ones you do for your department’s performances.”
You couldn’t believe your ears at what you were currently hearing. It already felt surreal to talk to Jisung like this after almost a year of simply watching him from afar—yet, now he was even going beyond your wildest dreams with the way he sang your work praises. “Wow,” was your breathless remark. “That’s a bit—”
“Surprising? I guess I could see that. There’s a certain appeal to it for us performers, though. Reading stuff like that is our own version of feedback, so it makes us feel like what we did made some sort of impact at least,” he explains, crossing his arms in thought. “Sometimes, I actually get jealous of your department’s performers since they could always get articles centered around them. My department posts photos of us with a short spiel and calls it a day.”
You couldn’t help the small snicker that spilled out of your mouth. Jisung’s eyes widened for a bit when he realized how strongly worded he must have sounded. He turns to face you full and defends himself with full force. “I don’t blame them for it, don’t get me wrong! Even I don’t know how to write articles like that, so who am I to demand them for it? Most of us are here for the structure of physical components, not words. I mean, there’s also the school publication, but they focus more on the event itself rather than the participants.”
Meanwhile, you were just entranced. It was unfair how the setting sun of dusk painted him with justice, enhancing the features that you had once brushed over to admire in passing. His black hair was now tinted with a soft orange undertone, mirroring the last rays of farewell by the sunset. Beautifully paired with his honey skin almost glowing, coloring him in the hues of life. Your eyes unknowingly traveled down to his soft plump lips, moving in harmony to bring forth strings of intricately sounded words as his voice laced it in melody. 
This man was just too much for you to handle in all his glory. Would it be alright to say he was probably born a demigod?
“Uh, did I talk too much?” He scratched his nape awkwardly, his other hand fumbling around his pockets to find his phone. “You could just get my number and contact me if you’re willing to let us have some soft copies of the photos, but it’s totally fine if not either! I just think they’d be really cool and—”
“Do you want an article?” You cut him off despite being incredibly endeared. Maybe it was just a part of you that wanted to take back after not being given a chance to speak for two times a few minutes back. Either way, it felt refreshing, taking away some of your nerves. The guy really had a talent for making people comfortable.
Jisung blinks. Confused, he asks, “What about?”
“You. I’ll write you an article with the photos.” Was your surprisingly confident reply. “I have photos of your band too, so we could include them if you wanted.” Jisung looked at you incredulously. 
“This isn’t a joke, right?”
“No, not really.” You shook your head to further emphasize.
“But we aren’t from your department.”
You lightly laughed at his concern. “I can release it independently. I have my own account too, you know.”
“Is that allowed?”
“With your consent and proper wording,” you started while hosting a small smile. “I don’t see why not?”
“Then I’m sold!” Jisung grins—the same one you could have only imagined being directed at you for some time now. “This is amazing, thank you so much! From what I’ve observed from the articles, isn’t there usually an interview portion? I’ll give you my number, and we’ll see how we can adjust to your schedule—”
You simply watched as he rambled on, excitedly tapping on his phone as he told you how stoked he was for the article. Earlier this day, you would have never expected to be chatting with Han Jisung like this, but the world works in weird ways. In a single moment, you were now part of the sun’s solar system, even if it was just in the form of an orbiting asteroid. But you made a mark.
And that was already a victory for you alone.
“No takebacks, yes?” Jisung teases, on the process of saving your own number after you offered to also give it to him. You scoffed good-naturedly, now feeling at ease.
“No takebacks.” You promised back, a silent meaning echoed through the space that only you could hear.
Someday, you hoped that he would too.
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MASTERTAG ━ STATUS: OPEN — ASK OR COMMENT 🫶
@fairyki @hysgf @euncsace @comet-falls @starlostseungmin @ameliesaysshoo @hyunverse @wnbnny @xocandyy @minluvly @moon0fthenight @estellaluna @hanjsquokka @starlostastronaut @minsueng @l3visbby @myjisung @thecutiepieme @yaniiiiism
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bichietozier-s · 2 months ago
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🕷️Catch You On The Web!!🕸️
An Itafushi spiderman socmed au ❤️
In which Yuuji Itadori, newly a sophomore in college who still has not a clue what he wants to do with his life, gets bitten by a radioactive spider and gains new abilities, stats and powers. He's coasting on his raw athletic ability, a full-ride scholarship handed to him despite his less-than-perfect grades, when he realizes he's got way more ahead of him than he'd ever imagined. Including, but not limited to, a newfound crush that also throws him for a loop.
you are reading:
Prologue | Part 5 | Part 5.5 | Part 6
notes:
Continued from part 5! The texts in this one are from Megumi's pov, and some more from Yuta's. It should be clear enough which ones are which!
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aaaand... NEW CHARACTER UNLOCKED (speak emoji and !! emoji) Choso enters the roster (cat smirking)
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Yuuji did indeed get yet another full, and very peaceful night of sleep. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he felt so well rested. It was a combo of the crash after all that adrenaline, the fatigue post-game, and the sleeping meds that Megumi had leant him. 
He still wanted to properly thank him for the gummies, outside of Yuta being his middle man. But that, he would figure out another time he supposed.
When Yuuji woke up the next day, he trudged through his classes, wanting nothing more than to remain tucked into his warm bed, finally having a few days to rest before continuing forward with the usual practice schedule. Those few days were pretty boring and quite average, and those odd skills he seemed to suddenly develop were finally chilling out to the point he could actually function pretty normally in his day-to-day life.
He seemed to gather a pretty solid understanding finally of how to use the sticky grip on the palms of his hands, although he still had not the slightest idea of why he had the ability. And he spent that one afternoon with Todo, working to train himself on those quick reaction times. There were other things here and there, that he could tell were suddenly new to him, but none were nearly as much of a nuisance as the sticky hands.
He would be forever grateful that that problem didn’t last more than a few weeks.
When the day came, however, for his first practice post-game, he was suddenly amped back up, and ready to jump back into the game head first. Those silly little dinosaur gummies changed the trajectory of his school year, and he didn’t even quite realize it fully.
— — —
The day of Yuuji’s first practice after the first big game is when Megumi decides that he’s going to make it over there to see what “that big beefy dude” was gloating about - someone on the team having some “crazy fast reflexes,” bordering on “superhuman”. 
What could he say? He was nosey, simply put. He minded his business most times well enough, stayed quiet and to himself. But sometimes, duty called. He simply needed to know what superhuman abilities found their way onto his own real-life college campus.
Megumi had tried to convince his dear, beloved cousin Maki to go with him, but she had outright refused, claiming she had personal beef with about half of the team. Stupid lesbians and their hatred of men. 
Apparently, the airhead that Yuta was friends with, that he’d given some of his melatonin gummies to was on the football team, but Megumi had no idea about that prior to deciding he wanted to stick his nose where it didn’t truly belong. He just wanted to see what he wanted to see, and that was that.
So, when he finally reaches the field where he can already hear a very rowdy, and very riled up group of college jocks messing around with one another, he stays as far away as he can, for as long as he can. The only time he gets even remotely close to the action is when he enters the field, through the main entrance placed at the center line. He quickly scrambles his way all the way up the bleachers and into one of the furthest away spots in the very top, back row. Not so far that he couldn’t see what was going on, but not so close that he’d draw any attention to himself, either. At least he hoped, what with the other small groups sprinkled around the bleachers, sat much closer than himself.
Little did he know that Yuuji had immediately caught sight of the raven-haired man, instantly wondering whether he’d come there explicitly for him.
Yuuji simply saw him as a potential friend, and hoped that maybe, just maybe, Megumi had felt some type of way about how their first interaction went. And maybe, this was Yuuji’s chance to properly thank Megumi for how greatly he’d helped him out, by simply just handing him 5 little dinosaur sleepytime gummies.
He almost steps away from the team for a minute, just to say hi, but he thought before he acted, just this once. He figured that Megumi didn’t want to be bothered, seeing as he was sat so far away.
Before the team started their practice, Megumi pulled out his laptop, opting to try and get some work done while he was here. He figured, until he heard or saw something interesting, this was just some much needed outside time, since it was steadily getting colder out, and he hardly made it out into the sunlight anyway. He was a hermit at heart. 
After something like a good twenty minutes, Megumi hears the team start up their practice, tossing footballs at one another, doing some running drills, tackling drills, all that beefy jock stuff that he swears he couldn’t care any less about. But eventually, a loud commotion of whooping and yelling rips his attention from his laptop, pulling it right towards the field. Whatever happened, though, he missed. 
What he missed, was that a team member of Yuuji’s, a loud-mouthed idiot named Mahito, had chucked a ball right at Yuuji’s head without a single warning. The rest of the team simply stood there in shock, none of them really having the time to properly react to the ball zipping towards an unsuspecting Yuuji’s fuzzy head of pink hair. Before any one of them could even shout at Yuuji to catch the ball, or duck, or any sort of a warning, he had already whipped around, catching the ball firmly in between two hands.
It was nothing short of a miracle. The field was silent for a good five seconds, until everyone charged Yuuji, huddling around him and causing him to drop the ball. The entire team was on him in seconds, screaming words of praise - things like “HOLY SHIT, DUDE!” and “NO WAY THAT ACTUALLY JUST HAPPENED!!”
“Todo, dude, you really weren’t kidding when you said this kid was superhuman!” Mahito yelled excitedly. Todo simply glared him down for putting his bro in harm's way like that.
After another 20 minutes or so of the same shit, Megumi decides that this was in fact a waste of his time, and he shouldn’t have even bothered coming. He gathered his things up slowly, packing his belongings neatly back into his little brown shoulder bag, and making his way back down the bleachers slowly. 
He wanted nothing more right now than to be invisible, hoping that everyone was way too involved with themselves on the field to take any note of him. But as he approached the exit gate right at the center field line, the worst thing imaginable happened.
A ball came flying directly at him.
Todo had insisted to the team that Yuuji could never best him in skill, that he’d always make it a point to match his brother’s abilities and keep up with him. So, naturally, that meant that he swore up and down that he would be able to also catch a ball with an insane reaction time. Against anyone on the team’s better judgment, Mahito hucked another ball at another unsuspecting person, this time being Todo. Who certainly could not catch the ball the way that Yuuji could. Also, Mahito was an asshole, who threw the ball way out of the way of where Todo would never be able to catch it, even if he happened to actually be expecting the ball to come his way.
At the time, Yuuji was distracted, practicing something else with a couple of his other teammates, when he got that odd, tingly feeling that something was wrong. He whipped his head around to where Mahito and Todo were, and quickly realized what was going down. And then he saw Megumi, right in the line of fire.
He had never moved so fast in his goddamn life.
Yuuji booked it over to where the ball was heading, kicking up dirt and grass as he sprung from the ground, leaping into the air to catch the stray football heading right for Megumi. He caught the ball mere feet away from where Megumi was standing like a deer in headlights, tumbling to the ground in a sort of tuck-and-roll fashion, when the team began cheering and screaming loudly once again.
Yeah, Megumi saw that. 
He saw all of it.
He also definitely saw the look on Yuuji’s face, bordering on nothing but sheer concern and worry for the ravenette, as they made eye contact right before he went tumbling down onto the ground. 
The team charged Yuuji once more, celebrating by lifting him up into the air, and shouting something about him being the MVP. Sure, Yuuji was excited, his teammates loved him! He was amazing! But right now, he wanted to talk to Megumi.
He glanced over to the spot where Megumi was - where he still stood - frozen in place, staring at Yuuji. Being held high over everyone’s heads, he had a free hand, so he gave Megumi a small wave paired with a wide grin before almost being dropped on his head by - you guessed it, Mahito. Todo made a mental note to accidentally hit him in the head with a football sometime soon.
Once Megumi finally got his brain and legs working again, all he could think was, “time to go, time to go,” and he high-tailed it the fuck out of there. Maybe something in his subconscious did know that Yuuji was on the football team. And maybe once Yuta clarified that information, that only made Megumi a teensy bit more curious. 
Yuuji stood from the spot on the ground that he’d been plopped onto, quickly dusting himself off and already moving to run to where Megumi stood without even having looked up yet, but he was already gone.
He supposed that once he got to talk to him again, he’d tell Megumi that he hoped that would make them even for the five little dino gummies he gave Yuuji the week before.
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author's note:
TEHEE OK PART 5 DONE!! im sososososo excited to continue writing :3c up until this point I had all the parts pre-written, so updates may come out a little slower moving forward, but thank you to everyone for your interest and for reading, as always! 🫶🏻 Also, I promise one day we'll see what nobara and yuta are conspiring about...............
And if you'd like to be added to the taglist, please just ask and I'll be more than happy to add you on! 🙂‍↕️
jump to:
Prologue | Previous | Next
taglist:
@meme-ty7 @runfrme @poemeater @gemicorn
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ghostcathedrals · 1 year ago
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sports coach toji ://///
basketball
he's the chill coach; honestly worrisome how chill he is even at crucial times when they're trying to beat the quarter clocks. he's so composed even when the gap is widening (regardless if in favor of toji's team or not) that it's insulting to the other team's coach, as if he's belittling the game itself. like it's a practice game.
sports parents, esp. moms ..... i'm sure you know how they regard toji. single coach who spent a good sum of his money during his divorce court trial. anyway. they love him istg they watch the games both for their kids AND their coach
you're his favorite sports parents lmfaoooo
however, he's NOT chill during practices, especially after losing. now, toji's teams have far more winning streaks than losing, so he's usually stricter at the peak of the streaks or right after one loss. he's got that chill look with a sinisterly strict aura underneath.
"you're not yet good if you can't beat me" ⎯ is way too good it takes several practices for his team to catch up. well, good for him ⎯ two students from the male team, geto and gojo, were able to block his attempt for a two-point shot. AND NO NEPOTISM OK but maki's that grade school team point guard who's able to replicate his signature half-court shot. he got her a pair of basketball shoes for that.
megumi way too good for grade schooler but he also credits his vigor to practice on itadori yuuji.
toji too good there are offers being sent to him with higher pay and larger connections (which do attract him) but he said he'll stay because his son likes his school which is in the basic education of geto and gojo's university
toji likes the way you scream when you cheer and imagines if you'd sound just as loud when he (TOOT) you ;))
football
it's obvious hot under the sun on the field so yes he does take off his coach unform and practices with them with only either a muscle tee or a tank top (yes, i refuse to call it wife-beater). sometimes he forgets to take off his chain necklace even tho it's itchy bc god this man gets lazy at the weirdest times possible
oooooo everyone just loves rerouting to pass by the field (same) and then they'd take pictures so at some point college football got too famous bc of the hot coach
so toji's usually more of a verbal socratic coach. during cooldowns or breaks or warmups he makes sure that his players know how to think for themselves so that even if they're in the zone (which renders them on autopilot and when they're disturbed they lose focus abruptly). he has a way of making them calm down when they know what to do. the same method even helped them with their academics holy shit!
he's lazy when demonstrating but when he does omfg pls kick my face idk. important notes to consider are his agility and flexibility; strong physique in general; and quick thinking. even if he slows down to show them, he's still quick.
he does get frustrated bc we all get crankier when it's hot. he doesn't lash out on his players, he almost never did before, but he does lash out at home when megumi's not around lmfao.
and then one time your kid told you to watch his practice (for this your kid is assigned male at birth), so you did, and then you see his coach and all of a sudden your cute kid always sees you at the bleachers side, front row. parent perks.
the japan national team wants him to be the coach but he's like ..... maybe next time when my son joins your team
omfg if you do get together imagine the way he's flexible and he never gets to drain his stamina because it's overwhelming. i feel bad for you. it will be a tough time. i wouldn't just say in bed, but hehe. he'd fuck you anywhere as long as you say yes.
volleyball
ah yes, toji trained the best spiker-setter duo (that's the coach ukai in him) so now he's graduated two top players in the national team who will, sadly, go to separate teams after an intimacy problem which toji tries to be out of (who knows if the conflict was their breakup after college but ended up as teammates lmfao)
can we talk about how insane his spikes would be strong ones, insulting feints, and ooooo the cross court spike 😍😍 and his wrists!! the trajectory changes caused by his littlest techniques!
Thighs.
you take care of yuuji on behalf of his parents so now you're always seeing him and his very very very special friend and yuuji's equally ecstatic sister ⎯ megumi and nobara respectively. who knew megumi had such a hot father like???
toji being a volleyball player/coach makes a lot of sense ykwim he's got that service ace that no one has ever beaten until toji suddenly retired from playing and started coaching instead
home gym 😍
he's got that vacuum-sealed looking shirt every time he's coaching or at the games specifically. i think they put him on screen often for publicity honestly.
they ask him, "you're one of the best coaches of this generation, and the best graduating players were under your wing. what inspires you to keep being so great at your teaching?" and then he looks at the camera, and grins. "there's someone who watches during practice that divides my attention. i know they're watching right now." and then he winks
said person will not be able to walk the day after the winning games.
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imaginespazzi · 7 months ago
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And we're back Bestie! Thanks for the patience while I recovered & got caught up w life.. I figured there wasnt much sense in providing a semi-coherent ask ha.
Ok so: First, it will make sense after reading but I so wish I could provide some pics for you via anon..
Went to the Sunday game. I didnt even ask to know in advance, but by chance the group/person that took responsibility for tickets to the game got seats a handful of rows up from behind the Dallas bench. I was just in disbelief w that given our jokes on the blog here. Our dear Lou is just so damn cute in person. And by every indication from that afternoon, an incredible teammate. Shes constantly supportive, super engaged, and you can tell things will come together for her before long on the court. Her being such a lovely professional didnt help lessen any appeal! 😣 Anywhooo it would be generous to say shot my shot Im afraid - but as luck would have it, there was a moment where she did a little happy dance spin around to the crowd when celebrating a teammates made 3 pointer (they led at this time) and ended up having genuine eye contact and a small smile back with me. So guess we can say there remains some small hope afloat for LouTea? Or at least argue that it wasnt an absolute failure by me on your behalf lol! My shy, yet somehow also overly confident self (maybe a certain attitude tends to come w being 5'2"?) will take it 🙈
So sitting where we did, actually found ourselves not far from Jacy Sheldons family who were at the game! Seemed nice, pretty quiet during the action. As a College WBB follower that was just kinda wild to me. And there was one other woman (maybe one more in the group) seemingly around Jacy's age w the fam in a custom top w her name, but I didnt recognize at a quick look. Dont think they were former teammate(s) though, so curious who they mightve been? Dont know much about JS off the court. Last but not least, a little down from me, I kid you not there was a woman wearing a VT Kitley jersey. I could only die laughing internally to myself, thinking of sharing this later. Not the most implausible place/location to see one tbf, but we honestly cant escape the OG lore!
Anyways the event was a great time all around. Highly recommend a WNBA game to anyone ofc. I was happy to see a Mystics win (and an interesting game) since Im usually bad luck for my/home pro teams in person.
Actually P.S. Li has such a cool vibe! Very sad to not get to watch her play but gives a fun, animated energy from the bench, to her credit. Easy to see why shes so well liked. And I dont know if you happened to see Shakira Austin that day, but holy hell. She is so tall and so stunning it blows the mind in real life. And while Kira is actually single (perhaps a nice fyi for some of you), I should be clear, Lou doesnt need to worry at all about competition. Theres no way little, sweet me would ever dare to handle a 6'5" woman with such a crazy side 😅 said with complete and total affection for her
Ok I should stop. 🫶
-☕️
Ahh unfortunately you can't send pic on anon. You can dm them to me if you'd like but it's totally fair if you wanna just stay an anon, I'mma just imagine the pics!
DAMN bestie I'm jealous of those seats but I'm so happy for you and so happy you got to see Lou so close! Awww I knew Lou was a sweetheart but I love hearing that for you. OMG DO I SENSE A MEET CUTE? She was dancing and then your eyes met? Personally I think that's a sign! I'M STARTING BRIDESMAIDS DRESS SHOPPING! You know what babes, I think you did great, just means you needa go to another game of hers and shoot another shot! Also hi twinnnn, I'm also barely 5'2 lol
I LOVE JACY! And her relationship with her sister is so sweet so that's so nice you saw her family! That's inchrestingggg info. I guess it could be a cousin but hmmm?
LMAO ofc there was something VT/Kitley related there, of course
Glad you got to see a W! And Li sounds amazing, I hope you get to see her play eventually too. Ooooh I bet Kira was stunning in person like I find her so freaking gorgeous so this totally checks out.
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flurrys-creativity · 2 years ago
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Touchdown
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Pairing: Jeon Jungkook (BTS) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Hybrid AU, College AU, Angst, Fluff, SMUT, enemies to fuckbuddies to lovers; Rating: nsfw, 18+, MDNI; Warnings: dangerous actions as in climbing over fences and bleachers and running on handrails, probably some cursing or at least mentions of cursing, nudity, SMUT -> unprotective sex, slight nipple play, biting/marking, fingering, slight pussy slapping, penetrative sex, shower sex, jealousy sex, cockwarming, public, oral (m and f receiving), one kiss, also a sport accident, mentions of broken ribs and punctured lungs; Wordcount: 9.521; Event: Part of the Cock-Tales collab by @cremeandsuga​ The Touchdown is served now.
Summary: Being the club manager of your all inclusive college football team wasn’t always peachy but you loved it nonetheless. Until the new recruits arrived and turned everything you knew upside down. Especially the new star Jeon Jungkook had your mind spiraling.
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You cursed underneath your breath as you rushed over the campus. How could you forget the training folder despite having packed everything last night?! You even asked Yoongi to send you a text, reminding you to pack everything. In the end you had to send him a text to remind you, which resulted in a little argument but both of you were used to that after years of working together.
A hiss escaped your lips when you had to jump over someone crouching down right in front of you to tie their shoe laces. You shouted an apology over your shoulder and hurried further towards the football fields.
The team was probably already assembled at the field, listening to the team captain’s speech. Some might even get baffled by his choice of words and how sophisticated he conversed. You snickered, imagining the dozens of question marks floating above their heads.
When you reached the field, you usually would run around the bleachers towards the official entrance but since you were late and didn’t want to waste more time than you already did by running back to your apartment to get that damn folder which you had forgotten when you had left on time. You pushed the folder into your bag while running full speed towards the bleachers. You jumped from the ground and leaped to the metal bars, using them to climb up and over the fence above the top row of seats.
Yoongi uncrossed his arms when he saw you running down to the group on top of the hand rail instead of the stairs like any normal human would do. His long dotted tail flicked anxiously behind him. Even though he trusted you and your instincts, running on such a small surface at full speed never sat well with him.
He would definitely scold you after the training. 
When you two met eyes, you grinned at him, jumping to the lower rows now. Your rhythm got interrupted when you noticed a shadow out of the corner of your eyes. You nearly lost your footing when you saw the hybrid next to you, jumping over the seats and rows just like you did. 
Yoongi took a few steps towards you, a futile move as he wanted to save you from losing your balance. He sighed in relief when you continued your reckless route and landed safely on the grass.
You shot daggers with your eyes towards the hybrid, who joined the new team members in front of Namjoon, bowing shortly in apology for being late. Only when Yoongi stepped into your view, did you calm down again - a smile quickly back on your lips. “Got the folder!” You grabbed your bag and pulled it in front of you, opening it and pulling the folder out. “Now you can finally check whether all new recruits are present or if someone else is running late.” 
Yoongi rolled his eyes when you looked around him to glare at the young hybrid. “Seems you’re alright then”, he muttered and opened the folder, turning around and walking over to Namjoon, who finally finished his speech.
“Listen up newbies”, he said calmly, not even raising his voice nor looking up from the folder. “I expect punctuality, persistence and pursuit from you all. Unless you’re missing a limb I don’t accept excuses for missed training.” Yoongi looked up, glancing with calculating eyes over the new members. “We’re the first all inclusive football team in this country. Even though more followed we’re still getting enough shit for it. That’s why we’re not doing anything half assed! If you can’t commit to this team, leave this instant.”
You observed the newbies, even raising an eyebrow as a silent challenge but none of them moved. They actually looked quite determined.
For the first time Yoongi looked up from the folder, smirking when he saw none of the new recruits moving. “Good. Today we’ll assess your strengths and weaknesses and sort you into the teams according to that. Namjoon, Shownu, Jinki, get your groups and start training for now. Newbies, you’ll stay with me and Y/N.”
The three mentioned team members nodded and stepped forward, motioning for their groups to follow them. Namjoon led the offence team to the right side of the field, while Shownu and the defence team walked to the left side. Jinki led the remaining members to the indoor training side.
You looked at the eight new recruits, scrutinising their physical features. Five of them were obviously hybrids just like Yoongi and yourself. Most of them had quite the nice physique and had at least some height. You were pretty sure the hyena hybrid got recruited for the basketball team as well.
“Introduce yourselves,” Yoongi commanded lowly and walked over to you, stopping right next to your form.
One after another hesitantly said their names, hybrid species if they had one and explained the reason they applied. They appeared to be a little shy and you could feel your lips curl upwards whenever one of them stumbled over their own words. 
“I’m JK, a snow leopard hybrid. I’m here because the sport looked cool.” He oozed confidence and it ticked you off.
“Looked cool?” You asked with a scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms in front of your chest. Your tail flicked animatedly behind your back, showcasing your annoyance with the young hybrid. “If you want to look cool, you should choose another sport. If you aren’t serious about this, leave immediately.”
“I don’t have to be serious to be good at this.”
Before you could pounce at him and scratch out his eyes, Yoongi interjected, thrusting the folder into your chest. “Alright. I’m Yoongi, the trainer, and this is Y/N our trusted manager of the club. If you ever need help with something you can ask her. Right now she’ll support your training until you can join the defence, offence or third team.”
One of them raised a hand, looking somewhat unsure whether he should be doing it or not. “Why are we splitted into three teams?”
Some of the other recruits snickered at the question, but Yoongi quickly shut them up with one glance.
“In games there is a defence and an offence team. Clubs that are large enough split their members into those teams and let them train specifically for these positions. Defence needs a different training than the offence for example,” you explained shortly, quickly continuing when you saw another hand rising. “The third team consists of step-ins. Should someone from the offence or defence team get hurt during a game one of them takes their position so we can continue playing.”
“Right and we’re here to determine, which team would profit the most with you joining them”, Yoongi continued, before he led them to the middle of the field and explained the first drill.
Once the training was over Namjoon came over to you and Yoongi, looking expectantly at the both of you. “Already some tendencies where to put them?” He looked between you and Yoongi, seeing the irritation in Yoongi’s demeanour and the annoyance radiating off of you. “What’s wrong?”
“We agree on most recruits and what position they should play”, Yoongi said, rubbing his hand over his face. “Except for one.”
“Because he should be a step-in. This kid doesn’t take the club nor the training seriously.” You puffed out, glaring at Yoongi for not understanding your point.
Namjoon looked between the both of you. “Are you talking about Jungkook?”
“Who?” Both of you asked and turned to the tall wolf hybrid, with various degrees of confusion displayed on your faces.
“JK? Jeon Jungkook? The snow leopard?”
While Yoongi nodded in agreement, you narrowed your eyes, containing the hiss within your throat. “He’s a natural”, Yoongi said, “that’s why I think he should be a tackle on offence.”
Namjoon contemplated the info he required, tapping his chin in thought. “I am not surprised to hear that.” He concluded with a soft laugh. “That’s why I told him to consider joining the team.”
“You know him?”
“Define ‘know’”, Namjoon laughed and rubbed the back of his neck, his wolf ears twitching slightly. “I saw him around campus a few times. He joined Jin and I when we played around with the ball during a free period.”
“What did you think of him back then?” Yoongi inquired, truly fascinated with the new information he got on him.
“I’ve never seen someone easily throw the ball on the first try like him. He assured me, he had never played before. Even Jin asked him like five times if he was sure because he picked up every move so quickly. Apparently he likes challenges. Honestly, I would bet my tail on winning every game if that kid joins the offence team.” Namjoon wagged his tail to underline his statement together with a laugh.
“It’s settled then”, Yoongi said and looked at you with a pointed glance.
“Fine.” You rolled your eyes with a huff. “Just keep him away from me during the training.”
~~~
Even though they had dismissed your statement when you said it, they made sure to keep a safe distance between you and Jungkook. You even noticed other team members joining their efforts, despite not really knowing the reason for it.
Sadly though none of the members could help you outside of the training.
“Manager!”
You jumped in your seat when Jungkook suddenly plopped down in front of you with a wide grin. You took a deep breath, placed your hand over your rapidly beating heart and glared at the snow leopard hybrid. 
“I have a question and Yoongi has told us to talk to you whenever that moment should appear.”
“So?” You raised an eyebrow, waiting for his question so you could answer it and be left alone again.
“The first training.”
You sighed and closed the book in front of you, feeling it wouldn’t be as simple as you had hoped for with him. “That is not a question.”
Jungkook snickered slightly and shook his head. “Yeah, sorry, I’m not sure how to ask that.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a habit he had picked up from Namjoon you noticed.
“It’s been months since the first training. Just ask your question.”
“You’re right, you’re right. You arrived late at the first training, didn’t you?”
“So?” You narrowed your eyes, not getting what exactly Jungkook wanted to know from you.
“How come you climbed over the bleachers?” Jungkook rested his elbows on the table and leaned forward, imploring your eyes with his dark ones.
Something like curiosity and admiration shone within them, slowly pulling you under his spell. You had to close your eyes and shake your head, leaning as far back as possible and crossing your arms in front of your chest before you answered. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He shrugged with his shoulders, laughing shortly. “It was the quicker way.”
“Don’t ask me questions when the answer is obvious.”
He tilted his head, thinking about what you said. “Is it really the fastest way for you?”
You hissed at him, too offended to even realise you did it. “What the hell are you implying?” You stood up from your chair and slammed your hand on top of the book. “Don’t even think about underestimating me!” You left before he was even able to say something, storming out of the library and only stopping in front of the bleachers.
“Is it really the fastest way?” You mocked Jungkook’s question, exaggerating your movements as you tried to portray him. “Just because I’m not a big cat doesn’t mean I’m any less”, you hissed and dropped your stuff on a seat in front of you. You jumped onto a handrail and balanced across it.
“Look at me”, you snorted and twirled around, “I’m so talented at everything! I don’t have to be serious to be good at this sport! I’m a natural.” You jumped up to the next railing, still impersonating Jungkook as you balanced along the small surface. “Everybody is friends with me, everybody is thankful for having me, girls and boys alike come to the trainings and games just to watch my stupidly handsome appearance. Which is only paralleled by my incredibly hot body.”
You reached the top of the bleachers, turning around and looking over the wide, empty field. A huff escaped your lips as you stemmed your hands into your sides. “Not to mention how sweet and helpful I am. Guess what, Jeon Jungkook is perfect in every aspect. People wish to be me or people wish to have me!”
Someone snickered behind you: “Which one are you?”
A surprised squeak escaped your lips and you lost your footing while you turned around to see Jungkook crouching on the fence behind the last row of seats, looking down at you with amusement.
He quickly jumped down and caught you, holding you in his arms before you would have injured yourself.
You cursed underneath your breath, both hands clutching his shirt in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Promise you won’t just leave again once I answer you?” Jungkook looked at you with wide, innocent eyes, silently begging you to say yes. He even refused to set you down, still holding you in his arms and close to his chest.
“Fine”, you grumbled and looked away from him, desperately trying to calm your rapidly beating heart inside your ribcage as soon as you realised it wasn’t pounding so hard due to the surprise anymore.
“I followed you because I wanted to tell you that I don’t underestimate you.”
“Great. Now let me down, Jungkook!” 
He hesitated, uncertainty flashing up in his eyes, but after you hit his chest, Jungkook reluctantly sat you back down. Though he kept his hands on your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your sides. “I really mean it”, he mumbled, gaze cast down. 
You sighed deeply and closed your eyes, it became harder and harder to lash out at him with every second that passed. You still wanted to tell him off but something about his demeanour made you hesitate. “Alright.” You opened your eyes again and looked Jungkook in the eyes, schooling your indifference towards him. “I believe you. Now, if you’ll excuse me. There is a training camp that needs to be planned.”
“Do you need help with that?”
A sting shot through your heart upon hearing his pleading tone. “No, thank you. I’m meeting up with Yoongi to do that.”
Jungkook dropped his hands from your sides and stepped back, refusing to look at you again. “Okay.”
You nodded shortly. “I’ll see you at the next training.” You looked one last time at him before you jumped down and hurried to your belongings, grabbing them and dashing away from the field.
~~~
“What’s got you so riled up?” Yoongi asked once he reached you, raising an eyebrow questioningly. His lips quirked up when he saw you jump slightly in your seat. “You seem slightly on edge for the past weeks now. I didn’t have the impression that planning the training camp would be this difficult for you.”
“It’s not the training camp!” You looked around with squinted eyes. “It’s the fact I successfully avoided him during training but he somehow runs into me everywhere else. AND,” you pronounce the word excessively, “he just sticks around instead of leaving again! My corner in the library was sacred since nobody ever came there but now he just invades my space! I can’t even say anything against it!” You dropped your head into your hands, groaning in despair while Yoongi sat down next to you with a snicker. “It’s not funny!”
“It kinda is. What do you have against him anyway?” He propped his chin up on his hand, leaning on it while his gaze implored you.
“He is annoying! That should be reason enough!”
“You think so?” Yoongi smirked and shrugged with his shoulders. “I’m sure you only think of him as annoying because you desperately want to be annoyed by him.”
You gasped loudly, pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. Your mouth opened and closed several times, unsure how to rebut his argument. “How dare you”, you hissed after several empty attempts. 
Yoongi shrugged his shoulders again. “Normally you’d tell someone straight forward if you didn’t like them or if they should leave you alone. So how come you’re not doing it with him?”
“I am!” You stopped, staring blankly on the table as you recalled the moments you met Jungkook. “Am I?” 
“We’re in a training camp in a few days. If he truly gets on your nerves, just tell him. Should you have no reason for your annoyance, try to be nice to him.”
You grumbled something inaudible under your breath, knowing full well Yoongi was right. At least for the sake of the camp you’d try to lessen your hostility towards Jungkook.
So you thought. But when he arrived at the bus with luggage twice the size of even your own, you couldn’t help it but blow up on him. Jungkook made your irritation even worse when he only grinned at your nagging, looking the least phased with your critique.
Every day he continued to do the most ridiculous stuff, smiling from ear to ear whenever you scolded him for it. 
“I leave the rest to you”, you sighed, smiling tiredly at Jiwoo and Soomin, who joined the training camp to help you out. “I need to sleep early tonight.”
“Are you sure? It’s the last night here. Isn’t there some sort of celebration?” 
You shrugged with your shoulders, wincing when you felt how stiff they were. “I’m not one to party anyway. I’ll see you tomorrow morning again.” With that you left the field and walked over to the houses, quickly getting into your room and taking a long hot shower. 
You heard the rustle from the other club members as they got ready to celebrate and probably drink until the early hours of the next day. A snicker escaped your lips, thinking about how the newbies would always be dragged into drinking a lot so they would have to do the last training at camp with a huge hangover. Somewhat a tradition by now and you definitely enjoyed watching that specific training every year. Last year Hoseok had such a massive hangover he still acted drunk during the training, missing his target by a mile when he ran past Jinyoung instead of tackling him.
For a moment you contemplated whether you should join them or keep inside of your room. The long shower helped you enough to relax and you were sure seeing Jungkook getting drunk would lift your mood even more. 
Yet, you decided to stay in your room, snuggling onto your bed and grabbing a book to read. 
Hours passed and you still heard them party when a knock on your door interrupted your reading. You pulled some sweatpants on and walked over to the door, opening it with a quizzical expression.
“Manager!”
“Jungkook?”
“I have a question”, he announced with a lopsided grin, “and we’re supposed to come to you whenever we have one.”
You sighed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “I know.” You weren’t quite sure if you thought of tipsy Jungkook as endearing or even more annoying. You weren’t even sure if he actually was tipsy.
“Can I come in for a sec?”
You stepped away from the doorframe without a word, watching Jungkook walk into your room with wide eyes. He looked around the room like a child would look around a toy store. You couldn’t help yourself but smile at the mental image, before you closed the door and followed Jungkook deeper into your room.
“Can I stay here?”
Your mouth dropped open in shock upon hearing this question. It took you several seconds before you were even able to answer him. “Are you drunk?”
“Not at all.” Jungkook sat down on the edge of your bed, looking up at you with a grin. “I’m quite tired actually but the guys are still going crazy in the room so I can’t sleep.”
“And you thought sleeping here would be an option?” You scoffed when you saw him nod, shaking your head in disbelief. “It’s a tradition to join that celebration, Jungkook.”
“Then why aren’t you there?”
“Because I’m tired.”
“So am I.”
You sighed in frustration. “Jungkook, please. You can’t sleep here.”
“Why not?”
You stopped and stared at him blankly, not coming up with any good reason to deny his request. You desperately tried finding something to say but came up empty handed every time. “Okay, fine. Fine. Just stay on one side of the bed!” You threw your hands up in disbelief and stalked over to your side of the bed, grabbing your book and placing it on the nightstand. 
Jungkook jumped up giddily, switched off the lights and rushed over to the other side of the bed, immediately climbing under the sheets.
You grumbled something underneath your breath before you got under the blanket as well. You took deep breaths, hoping to fall asleep as quickly as possible but your mind continued thinking about the hybrid next to you. Why did you even let him stay? You tried to sneak a peek at him from the corner of your eyes, feeling your heartbeat increasing. “Stop staring at me.”
He giggled softly and turned on his back, closing his eyes in the process. “Thanks for letting me stay. Don’t mind me being here.”
A scoff escaped your lips and you rolled your eyes in the dark, stopping shortly after when you got an idea. “I won’t”, you whispered with a wicked grin and started to undress underneath your blanket.
Jungkook’s ears swivelled around, a frown appearing on his face when he couldn’t place the sounds to an action. “What are you doing?”
“Taking my clothes off.”
He choked on air, coughing heavily upon hearing your answer. “You’re joking, right?”
“Nope.” You let the word loudly pop from your lips, dropping your clothes on the floor right next to the bed. “I normally sleep like this.”
“You do?” Jungkook swallowed harshly, his mind racing with a dozen thoughts. “Then, uh, don’t mind me if I do the same.”
For a second you forgot how to breathe, cursing inwardly when you actually heard him undress as well. This wasn’t what you had planned. You thought he’d leave the room in embarrassment, not take his clothes off too. You laid there staring into the dark with a blank expression, trying to find something to say or do.
“It’s quite cold in your room.”
“What? A snow leopard can’t handle the cold?” You snarkily replied, thankful for some sort of distraction from the heavy silence.
“No, no, I don’t mind”, Jungkook reassured you, turning to you, “I just thought it would be too cold for you. I mean the blankets are pretty thin.”
“I told you not to underestimate me.”
“I’m not, I’m not! I just can’t believe you’re actually…”, he hesitated, stumbling over the word, “... naked.”
You smirked, hoping to increase his nervousness until he would leave. “Well, I am. So what about it?”
He stayed quiet for a while, leaving you waiting with bated breath. “I don’t believe you.”
“Not my problem.”
Another long pause stretched through the dark, building the anticipation inside of you. “Come here”, Jungkook rumbled and wrapped his arm around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest. His hand slowly glided over your stomach and up towards your breasts, only stopping right underneath them. Jungkook’s thumb brushed over the side of your breast, making his breath hitch in surprise. “You’re actually… naked.”
“I told you I am.” It took everything within you to sound somewhat in control with his fingers brushing over your bare skin. You bit on your lower lip to prevent yourself from whimpering when he cupped your breast and squeezed it softly. “Jungkook, what are you doing?”
His thumb brushed over your nipple until it hardened underneath his touch. “I’m just checking”, he mumbled against your neck, nibbling and kissing your skin.
You arched your back, pushing your butt against his slowly growing member. A whimper escaped your lips when Jungkook started to slowly rut against your cheeks. You involuntarily clenched around nothing, feeling a tingle build up inside of your lower stomach.
“I really thought you hate me”, Jungkook mumbled against your shoulder, his hand wandering down to your hip. He squeezed the flesh of your ass cheek before he trailed along your thigh, grabbing behind your knee and pulling your leg up. “But those little noises you make let me think something different.”
“No, I do dislike you”, you breathed, weakly pushing against his abs behind you.
“I’m not convinced”, he chuckled, trailing his hand back over your thigh and towards your core. Jungkook grabbed the base of his cock and slapped it against your wet entrance, groaning in pleasure.
As if on cue you raised your hips a little, leaning half on your knees and chest. You whimpered again when Jungkook rutted against you, his dick rubbing along your entrance and the tip hitting your sensitive nub.
“Fuck.”
“Me”, you murmured without realising what you said, too drawn into the feeling of his quivering body above you. Your tail, which laid flush against your back, now brushed against Jungkook's chest - almost teasing him to do something.
“What?” 
“What?” You opened your eyes in surprise, feeling the heat rise into your cheeks. You were about to sputter some sort of excuse when a moan ripped through your throat from Jungkook biting down on your shoulder.
“I’d love to fuck you if you let me.” His ruts became rougher as he enjoyed the whimpers and moans he could elicit out of your mouth.
“Yes, please. Please, fuck me.”
Jungkook immediately wrapped one arm around your middle before he slid his cock inside your drenched walls. He groaned against your shoulder, licking and nipping over the spot he just marked prior. 
You wrapped your tail around his middle, encouraging his thrusts to get deeper and harder. Hearing him pant against your neck, sent shivers down your spine, which increased the tingle inside of you.
“Y/N?” His thrusts stuttered, feeling you clench around his length so suddenly. “Careful”, he panted, “or otherwise I can’t control myself.”
“Do you ever control yourself?” You teased, glancing over your shoulder with a smirk playing over your lips.
“All the time”, Jungkook growled, squeezing you closer against his body. “I wanted to ask where you want me to cum.” He kissed your shoulder blade, waiting patiently for your answer despite feeling on the edge of cumming already.
You felt the heat rising to your cheeks again. “Inside”, you mumbled and turned your face into the pillow, not wanting him to see how affected you were by his question.
“Are you sure?”
You snarled at him, forgetting your previous embarrassment for just a minute. “For once just do what you’re asked to do.”
Jungkook chuckled lowly. “But then I wouldn’t get your attention.”
You were about to hit him when his hold around you tightened, his moans becoming more desperate. Right before he came, Jungkook moved his hand down to your core and pressed one rough finger pad against your nub, letting fireworks explode inside your lower stomach. You trembled in his hold, limbs spasming uncontrollably from the force.
Once you calmed down Jungkook slowly pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder reassuringly when you whined about the loss. He quickly got up to get something to clean you, wiping you with a wet cloth before he pulled the blankets back over you. As soon as he had cleaned himself as well he crawled back into the bed behind you, wrapping once more an arm around your middle. “Sleep tight.”
~~~
Ever since that night you had tried to avoid him again, feeling all kinds of things with him near you, but to your dismay Jungkook became even more persistent in staying around you.
“What’s up between you and the newbie?” Huta asked you with a tilted head. The tiger hybrid continued to glance behind you and back up to your concentrated face. He had asked you to help him tape his shoulder and you willingly obliged but the constant death glares towards him made him slightly nervous.
“Which newbie? We have more than one.” You laughed softly, fingers gliding over his bare skin. You still wanted to smack the shit out of Huta for saying he got too old and needed taping now. 
“You know exactly which one I mean.”
“Nope, no idea.”
Huta snorted and squeezed your thighs as you stood between his own. “Denial doesn’t suit you.”
You laughed and swatted at his hands, even slapping his side with the tip of your tail. “Don’t be ridiculous! Today you’re especially humorous. It’s annoying.”
“Yet you’re laughing.” He grinned at you. The grin widened when you rolled your eyes and pushed against his forehead with one finger. “So, why am I getting murdered with his stares just because I’m near you?”
“Beats me.” You shrugged with your shoulders, placing the last tape onto his skin. “But if he continues focusing on us he’ll get murdered by Yoongi.”
As if on cue you heard the whistle blow and Yoongi calling for Jungkook to focus through a megaphone. 
Huta laughed again as he stood up and hugged you before he put his shirt back on and jogged over to the offence group. You watched him exchange a few words with Namjoon, rolling his shoulders as if to say he was all good to tackle the opponents again.
The rest of the practice was rather uneventful, until Jungkook started a fight with Huta despite having three other team members between them. You stood at the side of the field and rolled your eyes, calling for Yoongi to get the snow leopard of the field to cool down again.
Jungkook immediately stopped thrashing around upon hearing your voice, his gaze quickly finding you at the side of the field. He swallowed harshly, seeing the disappointed look in your eyes. He quickly mumbled an apology and hurried from the field, deciding to run some laps instead.
Even when the training finished and all the members returned to the locker rooms, Jungkook continued running. He didn’t even react when Yoongi called for him through his megaphone.
“What’s gotten into him?”
“Let him run off some steam”, you sighed and shook your head, eyes trailing the snow leopard around the field. “I’ll make sure he won’t overdo it.”
“Don’t rip him apart. He is our star player and we need him for the quarter finals in a couple of weeks.” Yoongi looked at you sternly, but once he realised you weren’t tense nor fuming due to Jungkook, he relaxed again. “Okay, I’ll leave it to you then.”
You sat down on the bleachers and watched Jungkook run his laps. Most of the members had already left the locker rooms again, waving you goodbye as they left. When even Jimin and Taehyung, who were always the last to change, left the lockers, you decided to stand up and stop Jungkook.
You stepped right into his path, waiting for him to either stop in front of you or run into you. Thankfully it wasn’t the latter option. “Get yourself together”, you scolded him, when he nearly toppled over trying to suck in as much air as possible. “You’re acting pathetic.”
Jungkook glared up at you. “So now you’re talking to me?” He straightened himself again, stepping closer to you until you had to look up at him. “Are you done flirting with other guys?”
You clicked your tongue and pushed him away. “Training’s over, Jungkook.” With that you turned around, ready to leave him behind.
“Where are you going?” Jungkook ran after you, falling into the same rhythm as he walked next to you.
“I’m going home. My job’s done for today,” you grumbled, feeling irritated by his accusation. You stopped in your tracks and looked at Jungkook, stewing in your own anger. “Listen here”, you hissed, “I still couldn’t care less about you, but if you continue to go on my fucking nerves, you’re going to regret it. We slept one time but it didn't change a thing!”
“Oh yeah?” Jungkook grabbed your wrist and pulled you with him towards the locker rooms. “If you didn’t care about me, why are you still here? Why aren’t you fighting against this?” He gently pulled at your wrist to underline his question. “You’re lying to yourself.”
You snarled at him but didn’t try anything else. Instead you almost willingly complied with his requests. You let yourself drag into the showers, helped him get out of your clothes all while Jungkook nibbled the skin along your throat. He had tried to kiss you but you only turned your head away so he didn’t try again, resigning to all the other spots he could reach with his mouth.
You hissed from the coldness of the tiles pressed against your back and quickly turned on the shower, letting the hot water drizzle down on your naked bodies. Next to the falling water the room got filled with both your whimpers and soft moans. 
Jungkook grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up on his hips, pressing your entrance against his throbbing shaft. He growled deeply as he entered you, his brows furrowing from the pleasure. “Mine.”
“I am not a thing to own”, you hissed between your moans, digging your nails into his back from the force behind his thrusts. 
“I still claim your pussy.”
You rolled your eyes but agreed with him after an especially rough thrust. “Yes, fine, fine. All yours. Happy now?” You gasped loudly when Jungkook bit down on your shoulder again, keeping you in place while he shot his load into you. For a moment you worried Jungkook wouldn’t be able to keep holding onto you with your spasms but he kept you firmly in his arms.
After both of you showered, cleaned yourself and got dressed again you two stepped out of the locker rooms, seeing that the sky had turned dark over the time you were inside.
“I’ll accompany you home”, Jungkook mumbled, pushing his hands into his pocket as he waited for you to move first.
Instead of telling him off you simply nodded and headed for your apartment. Both of you walked silently next to each other, which you were thankful for since you didn’t want to talk with him about whatever this thing between the both of you was. You were deep in your thoughts when you felt his tail entangled with your own. You shortly glanced behind you, biting on your lower lip to prevent yourself from smiling before you checked his blushed expression. You didn’t pull away, endeared by the gesture.
“I’ll see you around?” Jungkook asked hesitantly before you parted ways at your front door. His eyes shimmered with hope and uncertainty, waiting desperately for your answer.
“You know where to find me.”
Jungkook grinned softly and nodded, bidding you goodbye. He watched you enter the apartment complex and even waited after you vanished out of his sight.
~~~
You weren’t surprised seeing Jungkook a few days later at your usual spot in the library. You sighed softly and placed the books you had on the table, about to sit down on a chair next to him, when he suddenly pulled you on his lap. “What are you doing?” You squeaked and hit his arms that were now wrapped around your middle.
“Holding you”, Jungkook mumbled and leaned his head between your shoulder blades, sighing softly as he closed his eyes and slowly dozed off.
You simply rolled your eyes and grabbed the first book, reading through its contents. After a while you even caught yourself purring while Jungkook nuzzled closer into your form. You squirmed in his hold, embarrassed to show content with him around you.
“Don’t move unless you’re ready to deal with the consequences”, Jungkook growled into your ear, pushing you down on his hardening dick. “Unless you planned this all along with the skirt you’re wearing today.”
“I did not plan any of this”, you hissed and looked around in alarm. “I won’t fuck with you inside of a library!”
“Just warm it”, he suggested with a shrug of his shoulders.
You glared at him over your shoulder, the tip of your tail swishing around in agitation. Your resolve quickly vanished though when you saw his sleepy eyes and smile. “No funny business?”
“No funny business.”
You swallowed nervously but raised your hips nonetheless, letting Jungkook pull out his hard dick. You slid your panties to the side and carefully lowered yourself onto his length, suppressing a whimper inside of your chest.
Jungkook simply wrapped his arms back around you and resumed into the same position he had before, content with staying like this.
Even you had to admit to yourself that you liked being full with his cock inside of you. Though you’d rather bite your tongue off than say that out loud. Still, you dreaded the moment you had to go, knowing you’d whine from the loss. “I’m surprised you’re not trying anything”, you teased Jungkook, unable to concentrate on the book in front of you.
“Do you want me to try anything?” He shortly rolled his hips into you, grinning against your back when you whimpered almost inaudibly. “I think you want that, hm?”
“Don’t”, you breathed out, grasping his arm and digging your nails into his skin. “Not here.”
“If you say so.” Jungkook snuggled back into you, quickly dozing off once more. 
You sighed deeply and tried to concentrate on your book again. After a while you didn’t get as distracted by the feeling of his dick inside of you and were even able to read a few pages.
“That’s a sight I never thought to witness”, Jin laughed and plopped down on a chair in front of you, laughing even more when you jumped slightly and slammed the book shut.
Jungkook sleepily rubbed his eyes and placed his chin on your shoulder, looking tiredly towards Jin while he calmingly rubbed circles into your hips. “Never thought you’d walk into a library as well.”
“You shouldn’t compare yourself to others”, Jin scolded him with a playful glare, “just because you got dragged here by our lovely manager, doesn’t mean others need to be dragged here as well.”
“Then why are you here?” You asked, involuntary clenching around Jungkook’s dick out of nervousness.
“I joined Namjoon…”
“So much to not being dragged”, Jungkook snorted and shook his head.
“I wasn’t dragged! I’m willingly here!”
“Sure”, Jungkook yawned, “then what kind of book are you trying to find.” He smirked when Jin sputtered some nonsense, coming up empty handed in the end.
“So why are you two together?” Jin pointed accusingly between the both of you.
You immediately tensed, panicking as you had no idea what to answer him. Though Jungkook didn’t even hesitate as he answered: “It’s a cat thing. A polar bear like you wouldn’t understand it.”
“Did you need anything?” You chimed in quickly, before Jin would start an argument and get even louder than he already was.
“Ah yeah, are we doing a special training before the quarter finals like last year?” Jin asked, immediately forgetting about the dispute just now.
You shook your head. “No, we’ll meet up and watch footage of our opponents to discuss our strategy but we’ll just stick with our normal training routine. Otherwise you guys would have heard it by now.”
Jin thanked you for the information and left again, searching for Namjoon in the poetry section to tell him the news as well.
You exhaled shakily, slowly trying to ease your tension again. “We’re lucky it wasn’t one of the other cat hybrids that found us together.”
“If you say so.”
You ignored the hurt tone in his voice and stood up, fixing your outfit and grabbing the books. “We should concentrate on the quarter finals anyway.” You didn’t even look behind you before you said goodbye and left in a hurry.
~~~
The day of the quarter finals something felt off. You were restless the minute you had woken up, pacing around whenever you could instead of sitting down. 
“How many energy drinks did you have this morning?” Yoongi hissed from the seat next to you, placing his large hand on your bouncing leg. 
“None.” You stood up and walked up and down the short distance of the bench, eyes trained on the teams that came onto the field. “I just… don’t know.”
“We made a plan with the whole team. As long as we stick to that, nothing will be a problem.” Yoongi stepped next to you, gently pulling you back on the bench. “Trust our boys.”
“It’s not that I don’t trust them.” You watched how everyone took their positions, gnawing on your lower lip when you realised the offence team was the starting one.
The whistle blew and immediately both teams charged forward. You tried to follow the ball but with all of them huddled together you had no chance. “This doesn’t look right”, you murmured and turned to look at Yoongi, who stared at the field with a deep frown. 
At that moment you heard a blood curdling scream, followed by another whistle. Both you and Yoongi jumped up, trying to see what happened when the masses of players parted. Your blood froze, seeing Jungkook on the ground.
“Jungkook’s down!” Yoongi called, turning to the third team. “Changsub, get ready to switch in!”
You ignored his orders, eyes fixed on Jungkook’s body. Another scream left his lips when one of the members tried to lift him up. Before the referee was even able to call the medics, you were sprinting towards Jungkook already. You crashed onto your knees next to him, fumbling with the safety system of his helmet while you cursed under your breath. 
“Y/N?”
“What happened?” You pulled the helmet off of Jungkook, hands immediately clutching his cheeks as you scanned his face and head with worry.
“I’m sorry”, he apologised in a small whisper. “I didn’t follow the plan.”
“Why would you do that, you idiot?”
Jungkook chuckled and immediately winced upon the movement, clutching his side. “They were talking about you. Said they would crush us and then take you. Said what they would do to you. It ticked me off.”
“You idiot.”
By now the medics arrived next to Jungkook, asking you to step aside. They had to lift him on a carrier, making him cry out in pain again. You watched them carry him away, tears brimming in the corners of your eyes.
“Keep us updated”, Taehyung said and patted your shoulder, nodding after Jungkook. “Go.”
You didn’t need to hear that twice, immediately rushing after the medics.
Yoongi already held out your bag, so you could easily follow them, shortly nodding as a reassurance that you should go.
When you arrived at the medic bay they told you Jungkook might have a broken rib and that he needed to be checked out at the hospital since he lost consciousness as well. For now they had stabilised him and waited for the ambulance to arrive. 
Only hours later did Jungkook wake up again, looking rather confused around the sterile room. His gaze landed on your resting form, half sitting and half lying on his bed. Though he cursed in pain when he tried to reach out for you.
You shot up and stared at Jungkook, needing several seconds to realise he was awake again. With trembling fingers you reached out to him, softly touching his cheek and brushing strands of hair out of his face. “How are you feeling?”
“Confused.”
You scoffed softly and shook your head, pulling the chair closer to Jungkook before you sat back down. “You’re at the hospital. Your stunt got you two broken ribs. One of them is on the verge of puncturing your lung. And you lost consciousness due to the pain.”
“What about the game?” Jungkook tried to push himself up but you pressed him down, looking at him sternly.
“It’s already over. We won, don’t worry.”
Jungkook exhaled in relief, shortly wincing from the pain. “So I’m able to join the semi final then.”
“Absolutely not! You’re not going to train or do anything physical until your ribs are completely healed again!”
“That could take weeks,” Jungkook protested.
“I can already hear we need an around the clock supervisor for him to heal properly”, Yoongi sighed as he stepped into the room, stopping at the end of the bed and looking at a pouting Jungkook. “Listen kid, I need you to heal properly. Not quickly, not half way. Without you we will have a fucking hard time to beat the reigning champions at the finals.”
“What about the semi finals?”
“We’ll figure something out for that.” With that Yoongi turned to look at you. “Can I count on you? Will you make sure he won’t do something stupid?”
Jungkook protested softly but quickly shut up when you agreed with Yoongi’s request. “What about training though?”
“I already called Jiwoo and Somin to cover for you.” Yoongi smiled shortly and leaned down on the end of the bed. “I’m also supposed to tell you to never run onto the field in the middle of a game.”
You scoffed and crossed your arms in front of your chest. “If they hadn’t been so useless I would have stayed put.”
Yoongi chuckled quietly, his gums showing from the amusement. “Knew, you would say that. But I have to admit, I’ve never seen anybody run as fast. You could be serious competition for Minho and he is a cheetah hybrid.” Yoongi grinned even wider, seeing how you rolled your eyes. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt as well between all those muscle walls.” 
Yoongi stayed for a while, updating both of you about the game and how everyone played, until the doctor came into the room and gave Jungkook the clearance to go home.
Yoongi drove you to Jungkook’s apartment and even helped you carry his stuff inside since you walked next to Jungkook.
“It doesn’t hurt. I can walk on my own”, the young hybrid complained without trying to separate from you though.
“You are pumped with pain killers. It will hurt once they wear off.”
You nodded in agreement with Yoongi’s chiding as you guided Jungkook towards his living room and placed him on his couch. “Don’t underestimate your condition now. If you need anything I’m right here so just tell me.”
“I need you”, he mouthed when Yoongi wasn’t looking, grinning mischievously while you tried to hide how flustered you were.
Once Yoongi bid his goodbye and left the apartment you sat down on the couch next to Jungkook. Silence filled the air between you two as you tried to find anything to say.
“Thanks for looking out for me”, Jungkook whispered and placed one of his hands on your thigh, squeezing it gently. “I’ll try not being a pain in the ass while you do that.”
“You should know by now that you’re always a pain in the ass”, you giggled and leaned against his shoulder, sighing softly in content.
“Just to get your attention.”
“Well, now you have it.”
Jungkook grinned cheekily. “And there’s no hybrid luckier than me. Just thinking about having you for a whole week until the next check-up all for myself, makes me the happiest hybrid in the world.”
You slightly turned on the couch so you faced Jungkook, nosing against his neck before you looked up into his eyes. “I still need to study.”
“Do it while you sit on my lap again.” Jungkook’s hand moved further up your thigh as his breath got heavier. He brushed his cheek over your head, his chest rumbling softly. 
“Needy little boy”, you purred and nibbled along his sharp jawline. You couldn’t help yourself but feel intoxicated by Jungkook. His scent clouded your senses and his touches made you almost delirious. 
Jungkook chuckled and threw his head back, giving you more access to his throat. “Well, I’ve been badly injured during a game. I had hoped you would blow it better.”
You licked over his throat. “If that’s what you need.” A satisfied smile stretched over your lips when you blew over the path of saliva and Jungkook shivered from the sudden cold feeling. Your hand rubbed over his bulge and you purred needily as you felt how hard he already was. “I’ll stop if you move”, you huskily told him before you crawled down from the couch and between his legs. 
You teased him a little longer before you pulled his pants and boxers down, revealing his hard dick. One of your hands kept the fabric down while the other slowly pumped him. Through half lidded eyes you looked up at Jungkook, smirking when you saw him watching you. 
He bit down on his lower lip, brows furrowed in pleasure. Soft whimpers and moans escaped his throat. Jungkook raised his hand and brushed a few strands of hair behind your ear before he cupped your cheek, thumb drawing circles on it.
You purred softly and turned your head to kiss the inside of his palm before you leaned closer to his dick, making small kitten licks over the sensitive tip and along the prominent vein on the underside. With your tongue having the same texture as a real cat’s tongue, you could only imagine the pleasure it created. You suckled on the tip of Jungkook’s dick, slowly hollowing your cheeks while you moved further down.
Jungkook’s hand shot into your hair, pushing you even further down his cock. He groaned loudly, keeping you in place with your nose pressed against his pelvis.
You gagged around his dick. Tears welled up in your eyes and you desperately tried breathing evenly through your nose. As soon as Jungkook loosened the pressure on the back of your head, you pushed back, greedily sucking in air. Only for him to push you back down. You clutched his thighs, feeling incredibly aroused yourself. 
Jungkook guided your pace with his hand on the back of your head, groaning and moaning with the feeling of your wet cave around his dick. It only needed a few more pushes before he would cum down your throat.
He looked at you licking your lips after he pulled you off his cock, breathing heavily from his orgasm. An exhausted smile stretched over his lips. “What a sinful kitten,” Jungkook mumbled and offered you his hand to pull you back up on the couch. “I’ll offer you the same if you’re willing to climb up here and sit on my face.”
Your eyes widened momentarily, not having expected him to say something like that. You gnawed at your lower lip, worried you might lose balance and hurt him in the process.
Sensing your hesitation, Jungkook grabbed your hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “Don’t worry”, he whispered and raised your hand to kiss your knuckles, “I will hold you in place.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
Your heart pounded against your ribcage as you stood up and slid your pants and underwear off. Biting down on your lower lip, you hesitantly climbed on the back of the couch. You grabbed Jungkook’s hands to help you get in position.
Before you could even process it, Jungkook wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you down on his face. A loud yelp escaped your lips when he pushed his rough tongue between your folds. His nose nudged against your clit, quickly building the knot inside your lower stomach.
Your tail trembled first and your legs quickly followed. You moaned and whimpered, hands holding onto Jungkook’s dark locks. 
Still, he held you firmly in place. He only loosened his grip to help you back down, chuckling softly when you flopped down on the couch next to him using his thighs as your pillow. 
“Are you okay?” You asked, suppressing a yawn and blinking rapidly to stay awake. 
“Never been better.”
~~~
The following weeks you two were basically inseparable. Even though Jungkook’s check-up showed he healed perfectly and even faster than expected, you didn’t return to your own apartment. Instead you stayed at Jungkook’s place, wearing his clothes whenever you had to wear something. 
Hoseok was the one to notice it first, whining to you that you weren’t at home one night when he wanted to crash at your place after partying too much. To his dismay he had to go to Yoongi and get scolded for drinking so much close to the semi-finals. 
“I would have scolded you too”, you told him with a snicker and a pat on his shoulder. 
“But why aren’t you home at three in the morning? I’ve never witnessed you staying at a party after two. Where are you if not in your bed? And don’t tell me you were sleeping, cause I rang your doorbell for ten minutes straight.” 
“I stayed at Jungkook’s place, taking care of him, you know.” 
Hoseok raised an eyebrow. “What’s there to take care of? He’s already starting light training again, getting ready for the finals in a month since we won the semi.”
You shrugged with your shoulders. “Just making sure he doesn’t overdo it.”
“How considerate.” Hoseok grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows knowingly until you shoved him away with a scoff.
Once the others noticed how you and Jungkook kept close to each other as well, you started getting nervous. Somehow you weren’t too fond of all the attention. You even considered distancing yourself again but Jungkook made it almost possible for you. He stayed just as persistent as the first time ten months ago, purposefully showing up at places where he knew you had to be too. Jungkook became even bolder than before, linking pinkies when you two walked somewhere, kissing your cheek when he said goodbye and hugging you tightly when he greeted you.
At first you tried pushing him away or hissed at him for those touches but seeing his sparkling eyes and soft smile you stopped complaining. Instead you almost looked forward to it.
“Hey, Manager!” Jungkook crushed into you, wrapping his arms around you from behind and twirling you around. “I have a question.”
“I swear to god Jungkook”, you squealed, giggling softly when he put you back on the ground. “What’s the question?”
“I want to ask you that after we won the final.”
You squinted your eyes at him, feeling your curiosity building up inside of you. “Cruel.” A small pout formed on your lips. “But alright, I will endure the next hours patiently.”
Jungkook laughed and kissed your cheek. “That’s my girl”, he called over his shoulder as he ran to the other members for warm-up.
Somehow time seemed to stretch endlessly. You nervously sat on the bench next to Yoongi, your leg bouncing up and down once again.
“If you run onto that field again, heads will roll,” he said and placed his hand on your knee, pushing it down until you stopped moving.
“I don’t intend on running on it again”, you grumbled, “I just want time to move faster.” Your eyes followed Jungkook on the field, watching him play effortlessly. He pushed the opponents back like a paper wall, breaking through them and giving Namjoon the opportunity to run forward. Only a few more seconds of the game when the wolf hybrid got cornered. In a last effort he passed the ball back to Jungkook, who sprinted past the opponents. He even jumped over one of them to avoid getting caught as he ran to the last line.
“Touchdown!”
The whole crowd jumped up and cheered loudly, nearly drowning the whistling that signalised the end of the game.
Your ears rang while you watched your team storming towards Jungkook, burying him underneath a pile of members. Yoongi cheered next to you, doing his little happy dance before the rest of the members grabbed him and pulled him onto the field with them. 
You laughed loudly and followed them, hugging several members congratulating them until Jungkook stood in front of you. “I’m still waiting for your question”, you told him, shouting over the loud cheers of the team.
Jungkook grinned brightly, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous habit. “Will you be my girlfriend?”
You bit on your lower lip, trying not to smile in overexcitement. You quickly lost that battle though, smiling cheerfully and jumping into Jungkook’s arms, hugging him tightly. 
“Is that a yes?”
You pulled his helmet off of his head and leaned down to his lips. “It’s a yes”, you murmured and sealed your words with a kiss.
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Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​
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halfabreath · 4 years ago
Text
Holster goes on Survivor after graduating, part 2
here! we! go! part one here, tag here
so Holster's got a strategy to update and an ex lover to deal with and like. He and Esther didn't end great.
I feel like we don’t talk enough about why Holster’s chirped so much for hooking up with Esther in canon? Like there’s mention of a rash and a saga that requires an email but we don’t really know?
but essentially Holster likes Esther and is made fun of for it and I can’t imagine that feels good for her? And they probably didn’t do it in front of her but surely that’s not great for anyone’s mindset
Holster and Esther start dating after Winter Screw and she’s so enamored with this sweet dork who sings to himself while he brushes his teeth but the second he’s around his friends she feels like he doesn’t change per se but he showcases such different parts of himself and she likes what he doesn’t show! She’s into that! But that’s Holster like a large percentage of the time and Esther’s got a life of her own so they’re on again off again, Esther doesn’t come to kegsters or games and things fizzle and reignite a couple of times until Holster becomes a captain
Esther knows in her bones Holster will never ever ever ever ever ever choose her over his team (especially Ransom, like what’s the deal there?) and honestly Esther Does Not Enjoy having intimate conversations about how things make her feel and she’s really good at talking her way around her problems so when They break up Esther’s trying to articulate how she feels around SMH she says “I hate who you are when your uniform is on” and for Holster, who’s entire identity rests on being on A Team (literally his position on the team is being part of a tiny two person team within the larger team) this is his life this is what makes him happiest this is how he feels most himself so Holster hears “I hate the thing that makes you you”
So yeah! They broke up and then avoided each other and didn’t really get closure but also neither of them are bitter, it just felt kind of like “man I miss hanging out with them but yikes who was I at that point??”
of COURSE the first challenge involves the exes having to work together in pairs for their tribe and it’s a clusterfuck and Esther is downright cold to him. She’s sending him all the bad vibes in the world and Holster’s now legitimately worried he destroyed her life with their breakup because there’s some tangible animosity there and then they lose the first challenge and Holster’s wondering why he even got out of bed this morning when Esther pops up behind him and says “come with me, I need your long ass arms for coconuts”
The SECOND they’re out of earshot from the camp Esther‘s like “I’m really sorry I was so mean but I think it’s a huge advantage for the rest of the exes to think we hate each other so they don’t suspect an alliance”
Holster: So you don’t hate me? We’re good?
Esther: Good isn’t the word I’d use, Adam
Holster: That’s fair, I wasn’t a very good boyfriend. But I’ve got your back and we’re going to the top three, you good with that? Here, have a coconut wait let me open it for you
Bada bing bada boom, alliance
Don't get me wrong, it's awkward. Like, really awkward. The vibe of this island is uncomfortable and the near-constant rain for the first five days certainly doesn’t help and their tribe loses three immunity challenges in a row so this alliance is TESTED but Esther and Holster always surreptitiously check in by having lightning fast strategy sessions by the well or when everyone has left camp and they’re SO careful to maintain the illusion that they hate each other when they’re actually earning back trust day by day
Holster’s SUPER helpful around camp. He always offers to carry heavy things and makes people laugh and always knows exactly where the machete is and delivers coconuts to people when they’re resting but it’s miserable
There’s this SWEET moment where, after watching Esther shiver for three days straight Holster takes the machete to the woods and cuts off the bottom half of his sweatshirt to make a scarf/towel/wrap for Esther and they pretend like she did it out of spite and honestly? It’s a power move that helps Holster gain access to this smaller faction of people so they have more intel because the other contestants are like this helpful strong idiot need someone to look out for him
It also means Holster’s running around this island in a cropped sweatshirt and compression shorts
The Himbofication of Adam Birkholtz is complete
And even though Holster’s constantly surrounded by people, hungry, wet, participating in incredibly strenuous physical challenges, and at Tribal Council every night it’s still better than having to hear Ransom say they’ll never be together
Esther can fully tell Something Is Up. At first she just thought it was the stress of the game and the circumstances but then during a challenge she and Holster are on a platform way out in the water waiting for their turns on a relay race and they’re actually completely alone for the first time in days and she absolutely uses that time to interrogate Holster because she’s efficient, damn it
And Holster’s annoyed she’s taking his head out of the game and he’s exhausted and hungry and he’s the last leg of their team which means if he loses they all go to Tribal AGAIN and he can’t let his team down, he really can’t so the whole thing bursts out because he just wants her to stop and it goes like:
Esther: Look, I know you’re annoyed but you’re not telling me something and I think you can see why that would be concerning to me given the fucking context
Holster: It doesn’t have anything to do with the game, you know I’d never jeopardize this for us
Esther: No, that’s not what I think it’s just -
Holster: Holy hell, all I did was tell Ransom that I’m in love with him, are you happy?? NOW SWIM, SHAPIRO
Esther, while diving: I FUCKING KNEW IT
Holster, under his breath: that makes one of us, you could have told me. saved me a lot of time. Rude.
So now Holster’s just admitted this before his ex and 7 million viewers and oh yeah he’s gotta swim through an obstacle course so he and his team can eat today
And finally, FINALLY, their tribe wins. Holster gives it everything he’s got to gain ground (water?) and win it for the team and he’s just laying in the sand, trying desperately to catch his breath, Jeff Probst screaming in the background, while his whole tribe swarms him and if he closes his eyes he swears he can feel the ice under his feet and hear the clack of the sticks and pucks and it’s the first celly he’s earned in years and it feels incredible but it makes him ache for Samwell
Jeff notices that he’s tearing up and of COURSE asks what it’s all about and Holster’s swallowing back tears when he says “I’ve spent my whole life playing on one team or another and after graduating from college I suddenly wasn’t? And I didn’t know how much I missed it until I was on a team again and I even though I love my friends I think this is the first time I’ve let myself admit that things aren’t like they used to be and that I’m not, either”
So Ether’s watching her ex cry on national television and for the first time she understands exactly how deeply he loves his team? And how hard he tries to make them proud of him? And suddenly a lot of their relationship makes a hell of a lot more sense
After the challenge Holster’s laying in a hammock and Esther rolls into it with him and just says “We’re good. Top three?”
Holster, beaming: Bro! Top three!
Esther: What did I tell you about calling me bro when we’re cuddling
Holster: I thought that only applied to post-coital romantic cuddling? Unless of course you’re trying to tell me that you’re ARDENTLY in love with me
Esther: shut up
Holster: a heart full of LOVE a heart full of SONG NO FEAR NO REGRET A NIGHT AS BRIGHT AS DAY -
Ether: Hi, guys?? can someone vote me off this island please?
Part 3 coming soon!! This is so much!! But I fuckin love it!!
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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago
Text
Yours Truly (Pt. 2)
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Requested By: Some of you!
Pairing: Jisoo x Fem!Reader
AU: College
Word Count: Part 1 -> 9,786 // Part 2 -> 7,433
Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Pining, Fluff
Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.
A/N: Here's the second and final part of the imagine, gang. I hope you enjoy the adventures I wrote for you! Let me know about your fav part(s)!
♡ Happy Reading ♡
Part 1 -- Click Here
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
5.) Epiphanies
A Week Later
"Yuqi, why the hell did you drag me here? I'd so much rather be writing…" you shove your hands further into the pockets of your hoodie and look at her with a scowl. Rows of people fill the bleachers around you, everyone excited for the football game that's scheduled to start soon. Happy couples sit together all around the stadium, and the sight only works to remind you of how weird things are with Jisoo right now.
"One: it's a Friday night and you need to let loose, and two: I wanted to come, so you have to tag along by default. The rules of friendship are very simple, Y/N," she trails off, tilting her head at you with a smile. 
"Well I am gonna go get some food," you imitate her, "Do you want anything?" You stand from the bench and look down at her, noticing how her permed hair sticks up in a few different places. You smooth it out for her as she answers, "Nachos, please." 
"Alright, dork. I'm sure the line's kinda long, but come look for me if I'm not back in 20." She pats your butt as you leave, and you just shake your head with a smile. 
"--I know! Did you hear about Lee's new girlfriend? I heard she got in a fight with his ex last ni--"
"I'm fucking starving bro."
"Yeah, they totally hooked up at Jackson's party!"
Various conversations work their way to your ears as you walk towards the back of the line, but you attempt to not get too invested in the gossip. As welcoming as your school tends to be, even it has its fair share of scandals and drama. You've never been one to care about rumors though, and you don't plan to start now.
"I heard that Jisoo likes someone." 
Funny how plans can change in an instant, don't you think? 
You can't find it in yourself to ignore the childish desire to eavesdrop, so you listen in as the line slowly shifts forward with each new customer served, doing your best to be inconspicuous. 
"Supposedly she's been into them for a while but they don't know about it. I guess Lisa is planning to get them together tonight or something, I don't know." You recognize the brunette speaking as Seulgi, a dance major that you share a couple classes with. She's talking to Yeri, whom you've seen a few times in passing. 
That must be why she was defensive about the kiss; she has feelings for someone else. 
"Ooh, that'll be interesting. I can't say that I'm not disappointed, though; now Jisoo's gonna be off the market." The shorter girl frowns, basically reading your mind with her statement. You've never fooled yourself into believing you have a chance with Jisoo, but knowing that she'll be whisked away by some lucky classmate of yours definitely isn't an easy pill to swallow. 
You pass the remaining wait time by imagining who that person may be. Jisoo has a lot of friends, but you've never seen her around campus with any particular love interest; she always puts her studies first, deciding that her education is far more important than any potential relationship.
You remain lost in your thoughts until it's your turn to order.
"Hey Y/N, what can I get for you?" The cashier greets, resetting the register as she grins at you. 
"Hi Yeji," you smile back, happy to see your old friend again after what feels like forever. Your busy schedules have kept you from hanging out much lately, but seeing her now is something you're grateful for. "I'll take two waters, a medium nacho, and 1 hot dog, please." 
"You want everything on it?" She asks in reference to your last request, assuming you still stick with the order you used to go with in your childhood. 
"You know it. And make sure to--"
"--spread the toppings out well. I remember, girl." She says with a wink, turning around to get started on your order. The familiar interaction warms your heart, aided by the idea that some things never change. After she packages your things up in a convenient little container, you thank her and pay, walking away with a promise to meet up at the school's café next week.
About halfway back to your seat, something unexpected happens.
"Rosie, we can't buy out the whole place. This is the 4th trip we've taken back here and the game hasn't even started yet!" You freeze as you round the corner, almost dropping your food as Jisoo's low voice sounds off nearby. 
"Unnie, I didn't even get to eat much of the other stuff at all! Lisa and Jennie stole it and shared it with everyone else," the artist pouts, rolling her hands into fists at her sides like a toddler. 
"Fine. But this is the last trip I'm taking." She warns, rolling her eyes when the Australian attacks her with a flurry of kisses. "Yah! Let's go before we miss something." She says, pushing her off of her with a smile on her face. 
Even her voice makes your heart ache, and it reminds you of what her kiss felt like against your lips. It was short, no doubt, and barely there; but the sparks remain, waiting to be reignited anytime she's around. Maybe you're just destined to pine.
----
"There you are! I was literally about to go steal some food from Shuhua because you were taking so long." 
"Yeah, yeah," you say, sitting down beside Yuqi with the cardboard box in your hands. "You're lucky I love you enough to pay for this. Now I'll have to survive on 3 grains of rice and ramen for the next few weeks." 
"Oh, the struggles of being a broke college student." She says woefully, clutching her hands together in front of her chest to add to the effect. 
"Precisely," you agree, scooting closer to offer her some nachos. When she tries to greedily take the whole tray of them, you're quick to stop her. 
"Ah, ah, ah," you warn, pulling her wrist back down. "We're sharing, chica." She huffs, but eventually settles down and decides to shove her face full instead of protesting anymore. 
Now, with your best friend happily eating, you relax and begin to prepare yourself for the match. 
--
"LET'S GO!" You shout with Yuqi, chanting together as your school's anthem echoes throughout the stadium. The rival team has been behind the entire game, but they closed the gap in the last few minutes and now it's neck and neck. Your band plays loudly to encourage your team, and it seems to be working; they manage to repeatedly hold the others off and keep them from scoring. 
It's the start of the fourth quarter now -- the home stretch. With their spirits still high, your team continues to keep victory out of their opponents hands. The black paint underneath their eyes is really streaked now, showing all the effort and sweat that they've put into the game so far. A beautiful sunset just previously gave way to a rapidly darkening evening sky, allowing some stars to peek out now.
"My high school team sucked; this is epic!" Yuqi says, making you laugh. You tear your eyes away from the heated game to say something to her, but all thoughts soon disappear from your mind and you stop mid-sentence. 
She notices your sudden silence and looks at you, only realizing what's happening once she follows your line of sight. Jeong is standing against the metal fence that borders the track, mingling with everyone at the bottom of the bleachers. That doesn't bother you, but what you see next certainly does; you spot Jisoo beside him, giggling at something he said as he tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. 
"Oh shit," Yuqi breathes out, fully grasping the weight of the situation now. She doesn't even attempt to give him the benefit of the doubt, because he knows how in love you are with Jisoo and yet there he is, flirting away. He's the only other person besides Yuqi who knows of your feelings for the brunette, and you really trusted him with it. Clearly that was a mistake. You blink a few times and set your jaw, quickly looking away as he moves closer to whisper something in her ear over the noise of the crowd. 
"I'm gonna head out to the car. Just let me know who wins," you mumble, brushing past her on your way toward the exit. You know there's no way you'd be able to focus on the game anymore after seeing that, so going is your best option. She catches your arm before you can slip away, and says, "Wait, I'm coming with you. And don't even try to tell me no; I can always watch highlights later. I'm not gonna let you be alone right now." 
Knowing it's pointless to argue anymore, you nod once and wait for her to gather up her trash and coat. "Let's go," she says, taking your hand after tossing her garbage in the can conveniently placed at the end of your row. She squeezes it a few times for reassurance, and a bittersweet smile works onto your lips at the gesture. 
You don't notice how Jisoo's eyes follow you, every fiber of her being yelling at her to go after you. She hates seeing you sad, and although she isn't 100% sure of the reason for it now, all she wants is to cheer you up. 
"So, Jisoo. Do you have any plans after the game?" Jeong smirks, quirking a brow suggestively at his own question. Jisoo grimaces, saying, "Yeah, I do. I have to study." She tries to find you in the crowd again, but it seems that you've already slipped away. 
"We're throwing a party tonight, you should come." He leans a little closer to her, but she takes a step back. The only reason she's even talking to him right now is because Lisa introduced them, and it would be impolite not to. She turns him down, yet again sneaking a glance around the stadium. 
"No wonder Y/N's too chicken to ask you out; you're hard to get, but I don't mind a challenge." Her head whips around at his statement, heart regaining that familiar uptick at the mention of you. "What?" She blinks, not believing her ears. Surely she was just hearing things. 
"I said I don't mind a challenge," his words come out slightly slurred, and the effects of the alcohol he's been drinking are beginning to show themselves in all the wrong ways. The more he talks, the less Jisoo can stand him. "Look, Jeong -- I'm not interested. I'm sure there are other girls here that would love to get to know you, but I'm not one of them. Now, if you'll excuse me," she says, turning her body to the side to maneuver around him and get to the stairs. He lets her go without another word, his pride too bruised to come up with a more fitting response than a muttered insult. 
She makes quick work of getting to the parking lot, where she spots you approaching Yuqi's car, head hanging a bit. Seeing you upset saddens her, and she's determined to find out what's wrong. 
"Y/N! Wait up!" The shout catches your attention, and you slowly spin around. Jisoo begins to jog out to you, and a scoff slips past your lips (though you don't put much effort into stopping it). You're hurt, and half of the reason for your pain is staring right back at you like nothing happened. 
"What do you want, Jisoo?" You sigh, not looking forward to where this conversation will most certainly go.
"I want to talk, Y/N." She's in front of you now, scanning her eyes between yours to gauge your reaction. 
"What is there to say? Just go back to talking to Jeong; you looked like you were enjoying yourself." She can hear the jealousy laced in your tone, and things finally -- finally -- begin to click for her. 
"Is that what this is about?" She asks in reference to your sadness. The question isn't accusatory at all; she's genuinely trying to piece things together. 
A disbelieving laugh leaves you at that. How is she still so oblivious? "Yes, Jisoo, it is. I just had to witness someone who I thought was my friend flirt with my crush. So yeah, that's what this is about." Sensing that she doesn't know what to say, you decide to conclude things for her. This is already pitiful enough, and you'd rather spare the both of you from having the "it's not you, it's me" talk. 
"Look, I get it. You don't like me back, and you were only trying to be friendly by inviting me to the rehearsal that night. Just please, for the both of us, forget it even happened. Forget all of this. It was a mistake, and I won't do it again."
Jisoo hates that you're jumping to conclusions without even knowing her true feelings; you automatically think that she couldn't possibly feel the same, and you use her moment of silence as a form of evidence to prove that. The complete opposite is true, though you'd never give her enough time to straighten out her jumbled thoughts and tell you that. 
She finds her voice when you turn away, and she reaches out to touch your hand. "Stop, you've got it all wrong." Your eyes glance down to your intertwined hands, but you wiggle out of her grip with a heavy sigh. Over your shoulder, you shakily say, "You don't have to pretend for me, Jisoo. I'll be alright. If he makes you happy, then so be it." 
With that, you get in Yuqi's car and tell her to drive away, leaving Jisoo to deal with the sinking feeling in her chest that worsens as the car's tail lights grow dimmer and dimmer in the distance. You're gone, and she really has no idea how to come back from this. 
6.) Broken Hearted
The next few weeks were hell. You avoided Jisoo as much as possible, too embarrassed to face her after what happened and too weak to be close to her again. You'd surely fall even harder if you allowed yourself to grow any closer, so you didn't take the risk. How could you? Falling alone isn't an enjoyable experience, and you've been teetering on the edge of no return ever since that afternoon at the daycare. 
It was hard enough to escape her hold -- her face was everywhere, plastered on ads and bulletin boards all throughout campus, on reminders and sign ups for student council. You used your sick days in order to hide away in your dorm and block out the world, only being comforted by Ryujin when she wasn't busy with her own life or Yuqi when she could spare a few hours. They always made sure to care for you as much as they could, knowing first hand how tough heartbreak can be -- especially with the added stress of schoolwork. 
One person you thought about often was Jeong. Every time he'd cross your mind, dirtying up your brainwaves with the mere notion of himself, you'd grimace. He didn't deserve the attention, and yet you couldn't help but question why he did that to you. He hadn't reached out since that night, likely due to Yuqi giving him a piece of her mind after the game. He made it clear that he wasn't sorry, and that if given the chance, he'd play his cards even better and hopefully score a date with Jisoo. 
Maybe that was the worst part of it all. Hearing that it hadn't just been a stupid thing he did because he was drunk; he realized the weight of his actions, and he'd do it again, over and over, without caring about how you fit into the equation. That football game was simply a turning point, hidden in plain sight as an unassuming night for you to hang out with Yuqi. But you learned more then than you had ever intended to; Jeong's selfish, and he probably never even cared for you in the first place. The idea of that makes you feel dirty -- like you wasted so much of your time with such a horrible person, sticking up for him and defending his name when he wasn't around when he never even deserved that in the first place. You wish you would've known who he really was back then; you would've stayed away. 
Unbeknownst to you, Jisoo was struggling much like you -- minus the whole "betrayed by a best friend" situation. Every time that she showed up in class, she hoped with every piece of herself that you'd walk through the door and grace the room with your presence. You seldom ever did, though -- but when you ran out of free days of absence and were forced to attend class in order to keep your grades up, you never even uttered a word to her. She'd make it a point to ask questions in class, hoping that hearing her voice would bring something out of you, as yours did to her. She longed to talk to you again, if only for a minute; but your resolve remained strong, and her determination grew weaker as the days went by. 
Being the person she is, though, she knew giving up wasn't an option. After a few weeks of that cycle, greeting stands were placed at the front doors of each complex on campus, manned by different members of the council. She came up with a story for the administration on the fly, using her people skills to convince them that it would be good for student morale and getting more people to join clubs. It was a great effort, but she underestimated your avoidance skills; you thwarted her plans again, slipping right through her strategically linked fingers. 
Eventually, she lost hope. She exhausted every option she knew to try, and the girls ran out of new ones as well. Seeing their unnie so upset saddened them, and they did all they could to cheer her up in any and every way they knew how. 
7.) Premiere Night
"Y/N, get up. You're gonna shower and get dressed if I have to force you to do it myself." Yuqi commands, blasting into your room and flipping on the overhead light that shines far too bright for your liking. 
"Mmm," you groan in protest, not even bothering to roll over. 
"I mean it; don't test me, you know I'm true to my word."
"Why, Yuqi?"
"Because we're going to the performance tonight. The big show that everyone has been going on about is premiering, and you're coming with me to see it."
"I can't do that." You say, her words sobering you up from your sleepy stupor.
"I know who the lead is," she informs, already knowing about your reasons for being hesitant, "and that's precisely why we're going. You can't keep living like this, so either go get your girl, or agree to be friends with her and work past what you're dealing with." 
"You sound like a mom at the end of an 80s movie."
"80s movie moms are valid, so I'll take that as a compliment. Now go!" She shouts, shoving you off the bed. You tumble to the floor in a heap of blankets and pillows, still managing to hit your funny bone as you let out a pained groan. 
"Remind me to slap her later, Ryujin." 
"Will do." She salutes, reaching a hand down to help you up. With one last glare at an annoyingly bubbly Yuqi, you head to the bathroom to shower. 
----
"How do I look?" You ask, looking yourself up and down in the skinny mirror attached to the wall. 
"Is it gay if I say I'd ask you out?" Yuqi asks with a smile, fanning herself animatedly when you strike a pose. 
"Very much so, yes." 
"Well, hand me the rainbow suspenders, then." 
You push her over with a laugh -- the first real one you've shared in a while -- and wrap her in a hug. 
"Thank you, for real. I don't know where I'd be if I didn't have you." You say against her shoulder, pulling back to look at your roommate and add, "Either of you." The three of you settle in for a group hug and tell a few more jokes before Yuqi finally drags you out of the dorm. 
----
"How does it feel to be back in society?" Yuqi whispers, leaning in close to you to read the seat numbers printed on your tickets. 
"As lame as ever." You add, amusingly unenthused. 
"You're never gonna convince Jisoo to date your dumbass with that attitude." She retorts, feeling a little guilty when she sees your expression change upon hearing her name. You're afraid to see where the two of you will stand at the end of the night, so saying it's still a sore subject is the understatement of the year. 
"I'm messing with you, dude. If she doesn't want to be with you, then it's her loss; but I highly doubt that's the case. I've heard she misses you a lot." For once, Yuqi's words are halfway encouraging to hear, and you let out a light smile. 
"Well I'm prepared to worry about that whole situation later. For now, let's find our seats and enjoy the show." Your best friend quickly agrees, and the two of you squeeze through the crowds in the aisles to get to your row. 
----
"Jisoo, I promise you'll do well. You've been practicing for months; you've got this," Soo-hyun says, rubbing his co-lead's back in reassuring circles. The certainty in his deep voice gives Jisoo some semblance of security, and she stands to look at him with one final, nervous sigh. Stage fright has never been this big of an issue for her, but the size of the crowd and the idea that you might be out there scare the hell out of her. She wants you to be there with all of her heart, but she doesn't know if she'll be able to handle watching you walk away again. The past few weeks have been torture, and she misses your presence and witty remarks more than she ever thought possible. 
"Thank you, Soo-hyun. I'll meet you out there in a couple minutes, just let me collect myself."
He nods and says, "Take your time. I'll let Mrs. Choi know," before leaving and shutting the door behind himself. Now alone again, Jisoo digs through her personal bag that lays neatly on the small futon of the dressing room. When her fingers come in contact with that familiar material she's spent hours staring at, she bites the inside of her cheek and unfolds it for the millionth time. Multiple poems and blurbs litter the page, accompanied by cute doodles and cartoons here and there that give it a personal feel. She's spent the time away from you methodically working through the different writings, restraining herself from reading all of them in one setting so that she can have new content from time to time. 
She's down to the last one, now, and a surprising sort of realization hits her when she reads it. It instills within her a sense of determination -- determination to get you back and set things right, one way or another. She makes a plan to find you after the performance.
-- After The Performance -- 
It was even more spectacular than you ever imagined it could be. The school spared no expense in getting the best props, employing the most skilled technicians on hand, and recruiting the best artists that the school had to paint the backdrops. Everyone behind the scenes worked tirelessly to produce the best show possible, and their efforts really paid off. 
And, of course, you can't forget the actors. 
The entire cast was incredible, their talent matching some of the world's most sought-after stars. Every part was played to perfection; even the smaller, supporting roles were acted with passion, really bringing the piece together as a whole. The production left you wanting more, too inspired and awestruck by the amazing performances to be content with just seeing it once. So, after numerous calls for an encore, the cast returned to run through a few of their key scenes. 
---
As the cast takes their final bow, large cannons placed on either side of the stage shoot out bursts of colorful confetti, and you watch it flutter down around them. Some try to catch a piece or two to add to their scrapbooks, wanting to have a trinket from their college years, while others just hug each other and twirl around with content smiles on their faces. The crowd continues its loud cheering, and eventually you find the courage to sneak a glance at Jisoo.
To your surprise, she's looking right back. 
Her eyes hold a mixed softness; she's proud of herself and glad that you came to support her on such a big night, but part of her wants to escape the busyness of it all and tell you everything she's been feeling. She'd be content with looking at you forever, she realizes, as she studies you. You're the true star in her eyes, always shining so bright and making everyone feel at home whenever they're around you. She hopes you know how special you are. 
Mrs. Choi approaches the cast from stage right, gathering their attention to congratulate them and commend them for their performances. Jisoo reluctantly looks away from you, unsure if it's the last time she'll be seeing you tonight. The thought upsets her, but there isn't much she can do about it right now; so, she gives her attention to her professor and flashes that smile that makes everyone weak in the knees. 
You knew it was just a matter of time before she'd be pulled away and immersed in some conversation about the show, but the selfish side of you never wanted her to look away. No matter how confusing things may be because of all of your unresolved issues, she still looks at you like she always had before -- her gaze is kind, albeit bittersweet, but it's full of care. Seeing her like that makes you feel like even more of an asshole than you already do -- maybe you should have just listened to her at the game. Running away was an immature choice, rooted entirely in your own sadness in that moment as you deprived yourself of any explanation she could've offered, though you can't judge yourself too harshly. The situation is complicated, and you still don't know whether to hate yourself for running or go easy on yourself in light of what happened. 
When Yuqi sees you stand up and shuffle towards the end of your row, she sends you a warning look. 
"Dude, I'm not gonna run away. I'm literally just gonna step outside for some fresh air, I promise." She visibly relaxes, no longer having to prepare herself to wrangle you back into the seat. 
"Fine. But if you aren't back in 15 minutes I'm coming to track you down. You really need to talk to her." 
You sigh, nodding in agreement. "I know, trust me. Just let me get my thoughts together first." She sends you off to do just that, but not until the two of you complete the special handshake you made up all those months ago. 
---
Brisk air rushes over your skin in waves the moment you exit the side door of the building, automatically sending goosebumps to raise in its wake. It feels nice, though; it grounds you, and works to cool off your heated skin. The atmosphere inside was thick with the tension you've been feeling ever since what happened that night at the game, and its effects were only heightened by the raw performances of the evening. Passion and longing were the driving factors of the play, ironically, and many of the scenes drew eerie parallels to your current situation. So, it's no wonder that you're thankful to step away from it all for a bit.
You greet a few stray audience members that're puttering around outside as well, opting to walk down a little further away from them and lean against the building. The wall's brick material feels rough against your back, lightly scratching it whenever you shift your weight from one foot to the other. You don't mind it, though; it's oddly nostalgic, somehow. 
When you hear the door open again, you think nothing of it. The metal hinges latch just the same as they had for you, so there's really no reason for you to even look up. However, that all changes when you feel someone's eyes on you.
Unprepared is leaps and bounds away from being a fitting statement to describe how you feel in that moment; Jisoo stands merely 10 feet away from you at most, right next to the stage door that she just came out of. Her hands fiddle with the drawstrings of her costume, seemingly always needing to be occupied when she's nervous or unsure of herself; it's a habit you've picked up on after seeing it so many times. 
The longer you look at her, the more you want to look away; she's so beautiful it hurts, and the silence is eating away at you. You can't blame her, though; neither of you know what to say or do, and the only thing you seem capable of is staring at each other. When you break the intense eye contact you were sharing to turn away, only intending to take a minute to collect yourself, Jisoo is suddenly set in motion. 
She's afraid you'll leave again, and she's prepared to fight even harder for you this time.
I love you as the stars love the night sky
A fateful, cyclic romance
A game of eager greetings and reluctant goodbyes
Those words -- ones that you remember penning one day in class while completely entranced by Jisoo -- roll from her lips effortlessly, as if she had spent time committing them to memory. She had, in fact; whenever days passed without her even catching a glimpse of you, she always found herself unfolding that note again, tracing a finger over the curve of your unique letters as she reread the poem. It always brought her comfort to think that you were in just as deep as her, and a similar sense of hope blossoms in her chest now when she spots an unbelieving smile tug at the corner of your lips as you slowly turn to face her again. 
You're still into her, and she's falling even deeper at the realization. Maybe she didn't lose you after all. 
She takes calculated steps towards you and breathes a sigh of relief when you stay put, not showing any signs of running. The wheels in your head are going into overdrive now, turning and churning as you process her little recital, and she prays with all of her heart that you won't be upset once you put two and two together. 
"How did you…"
"You dropped it one day, and I picked it up. I meant to give it back to you, but I guess I just never got around to it." She feels a little guilty for keeping it as long as she has, but it's served as a way of keeping you close during your time apart. Those bits and pieces of you, scattered around on that page, encapsulated by the annotations and doodles you so kindly left behind, have stayed in her heart. Ever since she discovered it all that time ago, it's never been very far from her; she cherishes it more than you'll ever know. 
"You didn't show it to anyone, right?" Your voice is laced with worry, lowered a bit to keep others from overhearing. 
"No, no! Of course not. I just… kept it for myself. You're really talented; I couldn't stop reading your stuff." 
"Thank, I guess?" You awkwardly chuckle, still a bit rusty on how to interact with her after everything. Plus, to be fair, having your crush read one of the love letters you wrote about her is a bit unheard of. Newfound territory, you think to yourself.
"How long?" You ask after a minute of silence, only realizing how loaded your question is after it slips past your lips, turning into a puff of steam in the chilly atmosphere. "How long have you… felt that way about me?" You quickly add, "Assuming that you feel what the poem says, of course." 
An amused smile tweaks her lips at how cute you are. "I do, Y/N. I always have; ever since that afternoon at the daycare." 
"Really?" The question is quiet, full of childlike disbelief. 
"Really. It was always you." She says it freely now: unafraid.
The sentiment is sweet, but memories of the football game come flooding back and you're reminded that as much as you want to skip this next part, you still have things to discuss. 
"What about Jeong?" 
"What about him?"
"Did you ever like him?"
"No. The girls thought so, but it was just a misunderstanding. That's why Lisa introduced us at the game; she thought I had a crush on him, but I told her that you were always the one I was looking at. I told all of the girls that, after that night." 
Her confession renders you speechless -- only capable of listening and nodding every now and then. She takes advantage of your silence to finally explain herself and tell you everything she's been dying to. 
"I didn't know you felt the same until our talk in the parking lot. I mean, I was hopeful after some of the moments we had, but I didn't know for sure until then. I wanted to beg you to stay and hear me out, but you left before I had the chance."
You blink a few times as the reality of her words begin to sink in. "I had no idea…"
"Yeah, well…" she trails off, unsure of what to say next. She's forgiven you for walking away, knowing you were just hurt, but the whole situation still left a bad taste in her mouth. So much pain could've been avoided for the both of you if you had just listened.
"How did they take it?"
"They yelled at me for waiting so long to tell them, but then they tried to help me get you back. Remember those student council booths?" She leans in a little closer to ask that last line, her lips pulling to the side in that iconic smirk of hers. 
You audibly gasp and point at her animatedly. "I knew that was you!"
"Mhm, pulled some fancy-sounding excuse out of my ass to convince the board, and boom; 20 brand new tables set up the next day. I still can't believe you managed to slip past them, though. I mean, c'mon, have you seen how talkative those kids can be?" 
"Trust me, it wasn't easy," you laugh with her. "I had to sneak to the back entrances like a drug dealer." 
"I can totally see that." 
"I'm dedicated, what can I say?" The stupid hair flip you do makes her laugh even harder, clutching her stomach as those beautiful sounds slip past her lips. 
As your shared laughter eventually turns into soft chuckles, she smiles at you, saying, "I really missed this. I missed you, so so much." 
"I've been a wreck without you, Jisoo. It's honestly embarrassing." 
She looks at you with something new shining in her eyes, and she carefully contemplates what she's about to admit. "Can I tell you a secret?"
"Of course." 
"I rarely cry, Y/N, but I did over you. So you have no reason to be embarrassed. It seems like both of us were pretty bad off." She looks down after saying that, scuffing her foot against the concrete of the sidewalk. Being vulnerable isn't usually easy for her, and she never really lets people see that side of her -- not even the girls. She feels like she has to stay strong for them to keep things running smoothly, but she fails to realize how important her own feelings are. You're different, though; she feels like her entire collection of secrets would be safe with you, and you make her feel secure enough to be open like that. 
When she feels you step closer and hook two fingers underneath her chin, her eyes dart up to yours and her heart speeds up. Your other arm hesitantly wraps around her waist, giving her plenty of time to step away and deny you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she couldn't possibly want someone like you that you're genuinely surprised when she steps further into your embrace, pulling your arm tighter around herself. 
Her right arm comes to rest loosely on your shoulder as her other hand caresses your forearm, rubbing various patterns against your smooth skin. "I tried so hard to get you to pick up on my flirting," she starts, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of your neck as she holds you close. "Every touch," she runs a finger down your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in its wake. "Every look," she moves her hand from your neck to your cheek, cupping it sweetly as she gazes into your eyes. She strokes your skin with the pad of her thumb, smiling beautifully when she feels you nuzzle into her hold even more. 
"And that kiss…" she says, sounding breathless at the mere thought of it. "I wanted it to last forever." 
"Why didn't you tell me that, then?" You ask, not even a trace of anger in your tone. You're determined to let go of all the hurt and fear that your misunderstandings have caused, opting instead to finally get the answers you've wanted for so long. "After I came back from putting Aera to bed you were just… different. And then when you said it was just a part of the script--"
"I know. I was afraid that if I let myself have you like that -- if I let you in all the way -- there'd be no going back." When she sees the confusion building in your eyes, she continues on. "I don't usually let myself get distracted; I can't afford it. You know how seriously I take my studies." You nod, recalling the numerous times you've found her in the library until it closed, studying hard for the exams everyone knew she'd ace. "But you wiggled your way past every line of defense I ever put up. You became my favorite distraction." A dopey grin tugs at your lips at receiving that title, and you subconsciously hold your head a little higher.
"But I wasn't prepared for that. You make me feel things that I've never felt before, and I really didn't think I could afford to let myself have you. Not fully, anyway. I could deal with a crush; I told myself I could keep you close enough that I wouldn't miss you, but far enough that I could keep myself protected."
"What changed?" You ask, smoothing your hands over the small of her back, feeling the heat radiate from her skin. They've worked their way under the hem of her shirt during your conversation, subconsciously seeking to share her warmth, and Jisoo has been acutely aware of it the entire time. 
"When I saw you walk away like that I didn't know what to do with myself. I've had people leave before, so it's not a new thing; but I never missed them like I've missed you."
A bittersweet, melancholic look settles on your face at that; she deserves every good thing that the world has to offer, so knowing that you played a part in her sadness -- whether it be direct or indirect -- disheartens you a bit. 
"But you're here now, and that's all that matters." She says, leaning her forehead against yours. 
"And I'm not going anywhere," you affirm, holding her even closer than before. She brushes her nose against yours with a quiet sigh, relieved to be in your arms, caught safely in your warm embrace. If falling feels like this, she's more than okay with it. 
"Can I?" You ask, glancing down to the heart shaped pillows you've dreamt of having against yours again. 
She nods, uttering a soft, "Please", as she tilts her head to the side in expectancy. You close the remaining distance, bending your knees slightly to tighten your hold on her waist and pull her flush up against yourself. Both of her arms wrap around your neck now, occasionally coming down to tilt your head and allow her better access, or run her fingers through your hair. It's sensual and meaningful, but an air of urgency hangs in the air, thickening it the longer her lips are on you. Both of you are making up for lost time, so it's no wonder you're so eager. 
She takes your bottom lip between her teeth as she backs you up, pressing you against the brick wall that you had migrated a few steps away from during your conversation. If she were kissing anyone else, perhaps she'd care about the strangers staring, or what they might say; but as she stands here, feeling your hands explore her body in the ways that she's dreamed of and your lips kiss her senseless, that's the furthest thought from her mind. Her hands grab at the collar of your shirt, balling the material up in her palms as she pushes her lips against yours from a new angle. 
When you eventually pull back for air, you can't help but say the phrase that's been sitting on your mind for weeks. "I love you." 
Her heart speeds up to match yours, both of them racing as you look at each other with giant smiles on your faces. "I love you, too. If you hadn't already guessed that," she chuckles, leaning up to kiss you again. This one's more innocent, though -- full of giddiness as you replay each other's declaration in your minds. 
"Y/N L/N IF YOU AREN'T OUT HERE--"
Yuqi bellows loudly, blasting through the side door and out into the chilly night air. The metal smacks against the wall from the force she exerted, and you physically cringe at the sound. Jisoo does the same, quickly pulling away to find out what's going on. 
When Yuqi's line of sight settles on the two of you, her eyebrows raise and a smirk lands on her lips. "Well, well, well. Looks like my work here is done," she says, cocking her head to the side self-assuredly when she sees how swollen both of your lips are and how mussed your clothing is. You send her a look that she registers as "Get lost", and she retreats back into the performance hall with her hands raised in surrender.
"Idiot," you mutter under your breath, shaking your head as you watch the door close behind her, its poor hinges still recovering from her assault. Jisoo's giggle makes you turn back to her, finding a breathtaking smile forming on her lips. "You're so cute," she coos, poking your cheek, "especially when you blush like that." 
You fight the bashfulness that attempts to take over, managing to cock a brow at her and say, "Hey, watch it -- I might not be so kind in my next poem if you don't stop teasing me." 
"Aww, don't be like that, baby." 
She tenses up after realizing she let that pet name slip out at the end, but your smile only widens. 
"Say that again."
"Baby," she drawls in her signature sultry tone, stepping closer to you again. 
"Mmm, I could get used to that." You hum against her lips, pressing yours to them at the end of your statement. 
"Good, because there's more where that came from." 
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm," she settles into your arms again, looking into your eyes with so much love you nearly swoon. "This is only the beginning for us." 
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welllpthisishappening · 3 years ago
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Emma Swan, Olympian is not a phrase Emma Swan, totally normal person, ever expected to hear.
But she never expected one night at a party hosted by her college's baseball team to change her entire life, either. So, it should really come as no surprise that Emma Swan, Olympian, is now something of international sensation. Or that her husband has become a bit of a social media star.
——— Rating: Teen with sports feelings Word Count: 7.5K AN: As promised and because of who I am as a person, I wrote Olympic fic. I can neither confirm nor deny that there is an actual plot here, but there is a surplus of fluff and sports-based feelings. So, that’s something. Thanks to the Detroit Lions, specifically, for posting this Tweet and to my husband who is very much aware of what content I want the internet to provide me. Operation: Make Killian a New York Yankee as often as possible continues.
|| Read on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||
———
No one told her the questions would start to blur together.
That would require media training, Emma imagines. And no one is giving a first-time Olympian in a sport that only a handful of people marginally believe warrants notice from the IOC any sort of media training. She got, like, an orientation packet. With a lopsided staple in the top left corner. On her commercial flight. That she booked herself.
Twenty-plus hours crammed into a seat that she’s only a little concerned did permanent damage to her right knee, with a meal that was so chewy Emma was about four seconds and one exasperated, entirely exhausted exhale from asking if it was, in fact, made of plastic.
Mostly, the staple is what’s still managing to frustrate her. As frustrated as she can be at the Olympics. No one is supposed to be frustrated at the Olympics. Not really. Not while experiencing the pinnacle of athletic achievement, the calluses on Emma’s fingertips some sort of badge of honor that she’s wearing with at least a modicum of national pride, and everything is fine.
Her qualifying time was absurd. Where absurd is a compliment and very close to a record she’s suddenly determined to shatter.
So, she’s alone.
Big deal. So is everyone else. This Olympics, at least. Plus, Killian wouldn’t have been able to come no matter what the state of the world was. Even so, the quiet stands are admittedly weird. All these empty arenas with empty seats, the distinct lack of a roaring crowd no more obvious than when the world’s best athletes step to the line. Staring at the climbing wall in front of her four hours earlier, Emma swore she could hear every single beat of her heart echo between her ears.
And that’s—well, solitude is par for the course with an adolescence like hers, half-filled suitcases and brand-new faces in brand-new towns, but she’d gotten used to one town, and the town is actually a city, and the city has long since felt like home, and her fingers reach for the rings dangling above her Team USA t-shirt. They did give her an absolute shit ton of t-shirts, so that was nice.
Except—
Something keeps tugging. Nagging at the back of Emma’s consciousness, almost like she’s forgotten her keys on that flea market table they found in Park Slope two weeks after they moved into the apartment. Because for as well-versed Emma may be in that singular sort of existence, she’s also well-removed from wanting it, and at least three of her knuckles crack. Curling around her rings.
Muscles in her cheeks stretch, another nod and quick blink to avoid the threat of blinding via camera flashes. Someone really should have told her about this. She probably should have assumed. Human interest is the driving force of at least three-quarters of the stories in sports, and Emma’s not used to being the story, per se, but even she has to admit most of hers makes for a good one and they are still asking her questions.
Emma blinks again. Hopes she doesn’t look like a serial killer or the weird blonde, slightly sweaty cousin of the Joker, her smile starting to feel as if it’s painted on her face. She nods. Hums. Listens to questions that are startling in their tonal similarity to Charlie Brown’s teacher, and Emma wonders if Charlie Brown ever got a different teacher or what the school structure of the Peanuts’ universe is and, God, how old was Charlie Brown, even? To withstand that sort of consistent bullying. Was Linus the same age as him? No, right? How long did he carry the blanket around? Was Linus the same age as Sally? Why didn’t the red-headed girl with curly hair get a name?
She nearly falls out of her chair.
That might make the front page of several blogs. Possibly even the back page of a New York tab.
Careful to keep her feet on the ground, Emma lifts her head, directing her eyes toward the source of a question that must have been asked several times if the note of amusement mixing with deadline-based exasperation is anything to go by. Her smile definitely makes her look like a serial killer.
“Sorry, sorry,” Emma mumbles, and none of the oxygen she does her best to inhales makes it even close to her lungs. “I, uh—what was the question?”
The reporter grimaces.
“I wanted to know if you’d seen the video of your husband yet.”
Ice runs down her spine. Every single drop of wholly disgusting sweat falling in rivulets down either one of her cheeks freezes. Oxygen disappears from the room. Or so Emma assumes, what with the crushing feeling pushing down on her lungs and whatnot.
Her mind whirs. Races through possibilities and pitfalls with a speed that would be impressive if Emma weren’t already so close to that record, and she is going to break that record. Somehow she manages not to fall, though. From her chair or the metaphorical climbing wall in her brain, ignoring the sudden dryness of her mouth and the increasing size of her tongue.
Her nails are going to leave little half-moon creases in her palm.
“I don’t—” she starts, and eventually she will wish she was more articulate. For what turns out to be a very nice story.
Standing up, the reporter’s seat creaks as she moves toward the desk they deposited Emma behind after even. Several Olympic officials move to block her, but Emma shakes her head again, and she’s not exactly high-priority on the list of defensible athletes, anyway. So, none of them flinch when the reporter slides a phone closer to Emma, her crazed thoughts briefly lingering on how many phones a reporter could possibly need, but then her eyes drop, and she’s not sure if her ears can actually perk, but Emma certainly tries because she hears him yelling before she sees him.
Her smile shifts.
And the cameras flash again.
It starts, as with most things in Emma’s collegiate life, because Anna demands it.
She’s only half-listening, so Emma can never be entirely sure what it was, exactly, she was agreeing to, but in her experience, the agreement doesn’t matter so much as the action, and her roommate’s younger sister is unstoppable when it comes to action. So, Emma is dimly aware of a plan. Something about the baseball house and that one left fielder is in a handful of her classes.
David—something.
He’s got a girlfriend, too. A nice one. Who always smells like sugar when she slides into the seat next to David whatever his last name is, sitting in the row in front of Emma during their Tuesday-Thursday statistics class.
Emma hates statistics.
She doesn’t hate Anna, though. Or her roommate, one of the better college-based surprises, and either Anna has magic or Elsa is an enormous pushover because somehow all three of them are ready at the same time, and the walk to the baseball house isn’t far.
First-year players guard the door — passing out color-coded wristbands that absolutely do not do their job because it takes about six seconds of well-meaning flirting and batted eyelashes between Anna and a mountain of muscle masquerading as the team’s starting catcher to get them inside. With purple wristbands and two tickets for jungle juice instead of the keg.
“Victory,” Anna cries, twisting through the crowd. Half of it is already teetering on the edge of drunk, the rest free-falling into the pit of imminent hangovers, and Emma isn’t sure she’d classify their drinks as a victory, but it’s definitely better than watered-down beer.
And it doesn’t take long, really. By Emma’s shaky count, it’s not even a half-hour before the muscle — who introduces himself as Kristoff, and really is pretty cute, actually — returns, standing unnaturally close to Anna’s left shoulder, furtive glances shared out of the corners of their eyes. Emma rolls hers. Elsa’s appear perpetually stuck to the ceiling. It looks oddly sticky up there.
“Go,” Elsa says, and it’s not an instruction. Barely counts as more than a whisper, really. Anna lights up all the same. Like an alcohol-fueled Christmas tree.
Who does not need telling more than once.
Hands reach and smiles widen, Kristoff mumbling something that sounds like it was nice to meet you before he’s following Anna back to the beer pong table, leaving Elsa and Emma standing in the middle of a sea of raging hormones. All of which want to be there way more than either one of them does.
“Well,” Elsa mutters, “that was polite.”
Emma snickers into her glass. A mostly empty glass. That’s surprising. “Got that going for him.” “Plus, his on-base is nuts this year.”
“Say that again.” “On-base percentage,” Elsa repeats, making sure to do it slowly for maximum sarcastic emphasis. Emma’s eyes are going to fall out. That won’t end well. There are too many shuffling feet in this room.
“What does that mean?” “How often he gets on base.” Opening her mouth does nothing. Closing it does even less. Elsa looks overjoyed. “I know things,” she shrugs, “and I’m pretty positive Anna and Kristoff have been not-so-secretly dating since the start of the semester, so—” “You stalked your sister’s secret boyfriend?” “Stalk’s a very dirty word, don’t you think? No, no, there was no stalking. There was light research. One Google search and a single click to the team’s roster, and now I know he’s from Minnesota, too.” “Awfully convenient for the romance of the century.” Humming, Elsa takes a larger-than-usual sip before scrunching her nose in displeasure. At her empty cup. Emma has no idea how they ended up with empty cups so quickly. Suddenly the baseball house feels a bit like a time warp. Enter and drink and find the love of your life. Or something like that.
“I got next,” Emma says, ignoring Elsa’s laugh because she is not the sort of person who says things like that. It’s this house. This place. With its music and its happiness, and she’s not really a sports person. Can only marginally understand the joy of watching other people accomplish something. She has no idea what on-base percentage is.
Still.
Her feet move. Fingers curl over the rim of red solo cups, like the most cliché version of her college self. Her drinks get refilled. And it’s just as Emma’s about to let herself wonder if, maybe, sports aren’t all that bad and might even possess a bit of inherent romanticism, she slams into something.
Someone, more like.
Taller than her, he has to peer down his nose to glare at Emma. That’s fair. They’re both far more damp than they were ten seconds before. Some of that moisture ensures that the hem of his shirt sticks to his stomach. A very flat stomach. That draws Emma’s eyes because she’s human and slightly intoxicated, and it takes quite a lot more than she’s willing to admit to lift her chin, but then she’s glad she does. Even with the understandable glare.
“Shit,” she breathes, “your eyes are stupid blue.”
He narrows them. She hates that. Which is about all it takes for her to get royally pissed off, too.
“Can you pay attention to where you’re walking?”
The stupidly blue eyes blink. Darken a shade, like all his frustration is centered directly around his pupils, and the shirt he’s wearing is team-branded. Another baseball player, then.
“You ran into me!” Oh, Oh. Well, that sucks. He’s got a good voice, too. Eyes and voice and the few strands of hair that fall toward those eyes when he continues to glare at Emma likely aren’t supposed to make her stomach flip.
It’s the alcohol’s fault.
Or sports. Like, in general.
“Because you take up so much space,” Emma snarls He leans forward. Looms, really. Over her and around her, smelling like punch and body wash. It’s gross and absolutely wonderful. “Gotta pick a lane, love. Either I ran into you, or I was in the way.”
“It can definitely be both and there is nothing resembling love here.”
“So I can see. You have a name, wrecking ball?” “My shoes are never going to unstick from this floor.” To his credit, he does waver. His lips twist — which makes it all too obvious how much Emma is staring at his lips, but, seriously, the alcohol. Plus, it’s so hot in this house she can barely think straight. She wonders where he buys his body wash. He smells better than he should in this house. So, it's clear he considers. Ponders, even. Until his hands dart out and those hands are somehow warmer than every person in this house combined, heat scorching through Emma’s t-shirt as he lifts her off the ground.
Only to deposit her approximately fourteen inches to her left.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” “Look,” he grins, “you’re unstuck.” “Bastard!” “Eh, not technically.” “What?” “Not technically a bastard. Orphan, I suppose. But that’s kind of a mood ruiner, don’t you think?”
Emma’s fish impression is really going great. The grin becomes a smirk. Her stomach refuses to stay still. “Is there a mood to ruin?” “Might be if you tell me your name.”
Emma wavers, that time. Considers and ponders. Weighs the pros and cons while laughter drifts past her ears, consummate collegiate experiences that she’s only ever let herself be passably jealous of. A dark-haired girl’s talking to Elsa in the opposite corner.
And the hand hanging in front of her wiggles its fingers.
It’s still ridiculously warm when she grabs it. “Emma Swan.” “Killian Jones.”
Anna’s secret relationship becomes a real relationship no less than sixteen hours following what Elsa begins to call the Drink Incident.
And they become—
Baseball people.
Becoming baseball people is not bad. Not really. Emma likes the baseball team. She understands what WHIP is, now. Kristoff adores Anna, so that’s good. David, who does, in fact, have a last name, continues to be as nice as assumed, and his girlfriend sort of quasi adopts Emma. Mary Margaret Blanchard brims with positivity and an innate sort of joy that would usually annoy Emma, but most of that joy also serves as a direct counter to the snark that Killian Jones appears flush with. So, it’s something of a wash, really.
Plus, he’s a very sore Monopoly loser.
And Emma finds it endlessly entertaining.
“Stop that,” he grunts, glaring at the board with the sort of force Emma’s become accustomed to in the last few months, while she taps on the space in front of her, “I know how many spots it is.” Emma smiles. “So move, then.” “I’ll be bankrupt.” “Capitalism does that.” “Tell me more about capitalism, Swan.”
She doesn’t startle, so there’s that. Not much else, though. Not when a noticeable bit of equally familiar heat skitters down her spine. Her head tilts. His head remains frustratingly still, staring at the board like the spaces will change or Mary Margaret will tear down some of her hotels on Marvin Gardens.
Neither thing happens.
The heat pools. At the small of her back, inching dangerously close to that space between her hips, like it’s trying to tether her to this spot and this moment and its people. Baseball people. People who so clearly care about everything so much that even the cynic in Emma can appreciate it. Plus, they’re all ridiculously competitive.
David had to take a walk when Mary Margaret bankrupt him earlier.
“That’s about the extent of my capitalism knowledge,” Emma admits with a shrug, “I sucked at economics.” Pulling his gaze away from the board, Emma’s less prepared for the force behind Killian’s eyes than she was for the appearance of a nickname that might not warrant the title. It’s just her name, after all. But it sounds like more than that. Sinks under her skin with alarming ease, the precise tone of it wrapping its way around a variety of internal organs until they’re all beating at the same tempo and— “Move my piece for me.”
Kristoff groans. Mary Margaret chuckles. Elsa looks far too sure of herself. Knows everything, indeed.
And it’s not really a command, but there’s that same sense of something that found its way into the sound of Emma’s name and Killian’s voice, and he catches her by surprise. On a variety of levels. His fingers jump the moment hers reach out, all heat and an alarming size difference, his brows lifting when she turns her head.
“You’re taking this game way too seriously, you know,” Emma says. What she doesn’t say is more important, though. Because they’re not friends, really. They’re—acquaintances. Some kind of appropriate metaphor regarding a planet’s many moons and the tendency of those moons to orbit something far bigger than them. But they like each other, too. As much as they dance and twist, do their best to avoid getting hit in the batter’s box, Emma’s more comfortable bantering with him than just about anyone she’s ever met, a challenge in every conversation, and she’s rather loath to realize she’s memorized the different ways the blue in his eyes flash.
Now it feels a bit like a spotlight.
“Matter of pride, Swan.” “Is it just?” If there are other people laying on their stomachs in that living room, half-empty glasses by their hands and equipment stacked in various corners, Emma forgets about them. Quickly. Immediately. Killian doesn’t move his fingers.
He nods.
And Mary Marget only kind of gloats when she bankrupts him.
She dances when she wins, though.
It’s embarrassing. It’s absolutely, goddamn wonderful.
Realizing that baseball is a game of statistics ruins kind of Emma’s day. It makes Killian laugh. Her favorite sort of laugh. Where he throws his head back, an arm around his middle, and his shoulders shaking. Those same strands of hair she noticed that first night fall back toward lidded eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in an angle Emma is sure she could determine if she just didn’t hate math so much, and it takes about four seconds, her head tilting back and forth twice and one swipe of her tongue to lean forward on the couch they're sharing, tilt her head up and press her lips to his.
Press is a vast understatement.
Crash, more like.
A bases-clearing double into the left-field gap.
She knows so many baseball terms now, it’s ridiculous.
It’s because she keeps going to games. With Anna. Without Anna. With Elsa. Without Elsa. With Mary Margaret every single time. And it creeps on so slowly, she’s practically a Jane Austen heroine, but then Emma finds she cares as much as everyone else. Screams herself hoarse at every crack of the bat. Jumps and fist bumps with startling regularity. Experiences the flutter of butterflies in her flip-prone stomach before ninth-inning rallies.
She memorizes statistics. Killian’s statistics, especially.
Because the Draft is a week away, and the nerves rolling off him are even more potent than his body wash. Bought in bulk from a locally-owned company, she learns.
Killian hates capitalism, too.
Which is only part of the reason she likes him, but right now all of the reason is centered around how it feels as if the world is shifting on its axis and what, precisely, he is capable of with his tongue. Quite a lot if this first time at bat is anything to believe.
Emma laughs.
Joy bubbles from the very center of her, pushing at the seam of her lips, and it’s not much of a seam when her mouth is open to accommodate tongue, but it’s enough of a sound that Killian pulls back. No glare. Definitely eyebrow movement, though.
“That’s not the best confidence boost, you know.” “I’m straddling you,” Emma counters, nodding toward the knees on either side of his, and she has no idea when her fingers found his hair. It’s very soft.
“How did that happen?” “What was that about confidence?”
Dropping his head, she gets a different sort of laugh, one that’s just as potent in its ability to settle into her bloodstream and the empty spaces around her heart, and sports have turned her into a sap. “I like you a lot,” Killian murmurs. Emma’s heart explodes. Metaphorically speaking.
“Good.” “Expand on that, for me.” She pinches his side, almost prepared for the way it leaves him bucking beneath her. Less prepared for the mutual groan it causes. Killian’s eyes widen. “I like you a lot,” Emma repeats, and his arms tighten, and her heart knits itself back together, and the second time through the kissing order is even better.
It starts, as with most things in Emma’s nearly-adult life, because Anna demands it.
“I just think it’ll be fun,” Anna says, not for the first time. And, not for the first time, she ignores the pointed look Emma and Elsa exchange. Elsa’s lips have all but disappeared behind her teeth “Think about it,” Anna continues, “we need something to do before the game, anyway. This way we’re—you know, staying active.” Emma’s eyebrows jump. Fly. Soar into her hairline where the level of her disbelief sits, all too aware of the ring hanging around her neck.
A Draft Day gift. As much as a family heirloom can be a gift. But Killian claimed it was good luck, his brother’s ring, because turns out that snark is at least a partial product of a wholly depressing childhood, and Emma supposes there’s something to be said for common ground. Understanding, too. Stories shared over weeks that turned to months that turned to years and seasons in the minors, and it absolutely figures Killian’s Major League debut is happening in Cincinnati. Where Kristoff plays.
It’s ridiculous how in love with him she is.
Killian. Not Kristoff.
Anna is still talking. “There’s nothing else to do in Cincinnati,” she reasons, which seems unfair to the city itself but not entirely untrue, and even the concept of chili on spaghetti grosses Emma out. “Also,” Anna adds, sounding as if she’s reached the final bullet point on her list of possible arguments, “I’ve got a Groupon deal for this place.”
Elsa blinks. “I didn’t realize Groupon was even still a thing.” “Surprise!”
Emma’s laugh isn’t entirely honest, but her sigh of acceptance is and—
Turns out she’s pretty good at it.
Goddamn fantastic, actually.
At rock climbing. Indoor rock climbing. Her feet push her up the wall with ease, the steady ache in her arms welcome and wonderful and a slew of other alliterative adjectives. That leave Killian grinning like a maniac, but it’s been a weird and equally wonderful day, without a hit, but two walks, so that ups the on-base, and Emma’s really, seriously in love with him.
“I don’t know what it was,” she says, preening just a bit under Killian’s stare. Hotel lighting casts shadows on his cheeks, slumped as he is against every pillow they could find. Even the ones in the closet. He’s not supposed to be in here for much longer, both of them aware of the team-ordained curfew hanging over them, but the pre-game nerves are long gone. Replaced instead with exhilaration and endorphins, the kind that could win Elle Woods a headline-making case. “But,” Emma continues, “I just kept moving, and the guy said it was, like, a course record. Is course the right word, you think?” Killian lifts a shoulder. Even as it’s covered in ice and tape. The play he made at third is going to show on loop. On TV. In Emma’s memory. She’s never yelled that loud before.
People took pictures.
And then she cried. Like a giant sap.
“This is your show, Swan,” Killian chuckles, pride infusing the words. As if she’s the one who deserves the pride today. It’s entirely possible she cried for multiple minutes after that play. They definitely showed that on the YES Network. Mary Margaret texted her no less than forty-seven times.
“I was really fast.” Killian hums, fingers fluttering enough to make it clear he wants her closer. Emma doesn’t argue. They’re a mess of limbs and mouths and that tongue thing they’ve collectively gotten better at giving and receiving over the years, hands that warm with the sort of confidence borne of repetition. Some joke about BP and finding your swing.
“Plus,” he says, a soft laugh at Emma’s noise of displeasure when talking means far less kissing, “becoming a rock climbing savant means more upper-body work, and you know how I love your arms.” Guffawing the way Emma does is not particularly romantic. Doesn’t matter. The sound comes, and the joy remains, a steady stream pumping through all her extremities and clouding her thoughts. In the best way possible. Before Killian, Emma didn’t know this could be that. Fun and easy, not quite simple, but something she’s willing to work for. Athletes are notoriously determined, after all.
Part of her wonders if a proclivity to rock climbing makes her an athlete, too.
“Please,” she says, laughter clinging to the letters even as she finds herself moved directly over Killian’s outstretched legs, “provide, in detail, everything you enjoy about my arms.” “I didn’t say enjoy.” “Were you misquoted, Jones?” His eyes flash. Glow, honestly. At her and because of her and athletes also know how to work their opponents. Goad them into making mistakes. Something about a pitcher’s duel and a battle in the box. Where the box is this bed. And Emma’s winning.
“I love your arms,” Killian says. Dragging his mouth against the column of her throat leaves goosebumps on Emma’s skin. Her back arches. His hand flattens. The compliments continue. Turn into promises. Guarantees. Of a future that’s spread out at their feet now, if only they reach for it.
Turns out Emma’s pretty good at reaching for things. When she wants them.
“This isn’t, like, free-scale, though, is it?”
Her heart cannot be expected to handle much more of this.
“Don’t worry,” Emma says, “all proper safety precautions were taken. Plus, I wouldn’t fall off the wall.”
Killian’s expression shutters. Not in any of that frustration Emma so clearly understood when his shirt was damp, and her shoes were unsalvagable despite his best efforts to get the school’s equipment manager to dry-clean them. No, it’s—it’s something big and important and unspoken, and Emma pulls his hand up. To rest directly over the rink that’s still tucked beneath her t-shirt.
His t-shirt.
It’s got his last number on it, at least.
“Would you catch me if I fell off the wall?” He doesn’t answer at first. Doesn’t mention the absurdity of a question that does not make sense, but those literal and metaphorical clock hands are ticking, and if they don’t replace his ice soon, they’re going to destroy these sheets. “Every single time, Swan.” “Right back at you.”
Killian doesn’t miss curfew, but it’s pretty close.
And Emma wakes up to twelve texts with links for indoor rock climbing gyms in the greater New York City area.
“Holy shit, this is hard.”
Grunting more than laughing, Emma’s fingers curl around the rock in front of her. Chalk cakes itself on the pads of those fingers, stuck beneath her nails and, somehow, the bend of her elbow. “Are you not an All-Star?” she asks, glancing at Killian.
“I do not see how that factors into this at all.”
“Huh, weird.” “Suspiciously sounds like an accusation.” “Weird,” Emma repeats. They’re halfway up a wall only one of them is really supposed to be on, but the other person several feet below them is faring far worse than the pair of them combined, so, that takes precedence in her mind. “He knows a lot more curse words than I realized.” “He’s showing off,” Killian grumbles, forehead resting against the wall.
Will Scarlet hasn’t moved in five minutes. Possibly six. Maybe a round ten. He's much better at second base.
“I cannot feel my arms,” he calls, and Emma’s laugh is better that time. Purer, somehow. As if happiness can actually have a sound. Even happiness that comes with sweat on her temple and a noticeable ache in her triceps and she sort of loves this.
Sort of is a vast understatement.
“Showing off, huh?” Emma asks. She finds her next footfall with ease, happiness blooming into confidence that’s become nearly consistent these days and weeks and years. It does not take her long to feel the stare that’s lingering on her. On her ass, specifically.
She glances over her shoulder. To find her fiancé smiling at her. And staring at her ass.
“Can I help you, love?” “Whatcha doing?” “Ogling you, obviously.” “Forearms feeling good?” He nods. Sort of. There’s a distinct slope to the back of his neck and more sweat on his brown than Emma’s. Not as much as Scarlet’s, probably. “Fantastic,” Killian drawls, “keep going, Swan, someone’s got to show us how to do it.” “Try not to fall off the wall, huh? Last thing we need is the might of the Yankees front office coming after us.” “I don’t think I can move my hands,” Will shouts. Killian doesn’t move. It’s impressive forearm strength. Blushing on the wall is not usually how Emma’s days go.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises, and Emma moves. He follows her. Up the wall and to the top, a quick brush of his lips against her shoulder that leaves Scarlet cursing even more, despite his presence on the floor, but then there’s lemon-flavored water and exceptionally soft towels and Emma’s caught a bit off guard by the question.
“Are there leagues for this?” Will asks. “Because you should probably be winning things for this.” Emma blinks. Considers. Wonders. Turns to Killian.
He’s still smiling. Broadly, in fact.
“We could look.” They do. They fill out paperwork. Buy fancy climbing shoes that Emma claims cost too much, but Killian’s a pushover and even more stubborn and she wins the first race she signs up for.
Plus, ten more after that.
Emma climbs indoor rock walls. Killian hits home runs. Occasionally they do these things simultaneously, and it usually leads to her nearly falling off the wall because everyone in her Tribeca gym knows what it means when WFAN is playing on the speakers.
Sometimes they shout out John Sterling’s home run call with him.
She gets better. He gets better.
They do end up destroying sheets in various hotels across the country. For various reasons. Not all of them post-game or ice related. There are games and events. Wins and losses. Back page spreads that Emma frames and hangs on their apartment walls, right next to other, smaller frames, with the same smiling faces who, once upon a time, called a sticky-floored baseball house home, and Killian’s fingers are warm in hers when the tears prick her eyes at Anna and Kristoff’s wedding.
There are stories. Think pieces and hot takes on a variety of drive-time radio shows. Those are all about Killian, though. He’s the athlete. The true one, some stories say. It’s impressive what Emma does, they admit, but it’s a hobby, and she’s got a grown-up career, anyway. So, she’s got more climbing records than she knew ever existed, but she’s not doing it for press, and both Mary Margaret and Anna weep at her and Killian’s wedding.
She wears her ring on a chain next to her other one when she climbs.
Every time Killian notices them hanging there, Emma swears, his eyes brighten. It’s her favorite thing in the whole, goddamn world.
“What is this?” He doesn’t answer. Just holds the sheet of paper he must have printed out in the clubhouse because they certainly don’t have a printer at home, and one of the edges is bent. Like he had to fit it in his back pocket.
“Going the stoic route, huh?” Emma quips, but there’s a noticeable hitch in her pulse. One that’s been there for weeks. Since the rumblings started, and the rumors began, whispers of possibility, and first-ever has a very nice ring to it. One side of Killian’s mouth tugs up. “Oh, that’s not fair.” “I’d like the record to show, that the only reason I didn’t know immediately was because I was in the trainer’s room, so—” “What were you in the trainer’s room for?” Killian ignores her. Well, sort of. His eyes shift, and his gaze holds, and Emma knows. Right down in the marrow of her. What the paper is and how Scarlet is the one who printed it out, but she’s even more confident Killian carried it home, and that does something funny to her entire worldview. Widens it and minimizes it at the same time, focusing on this and them and the possibility that creates.
In an athletic sort of way.
“My shoulder’s kind of sore.” Emma scoffs. “Oh, that’s pointed.” “I’m sure your shoulders are fine. Golden, even.’ “This is not your best work, you know that?” “Look at the paper.” “Did you fold it yourself?” “And then took a car back home. You really didn’t see yet?” Emma shakes her head. He knows the answer, too. He’s the one with the Google alert, after all. Because she’s still a bit of a pessimist at heart and an adult with a real job, and this is too much and abjectly terrifying, and the last thing she expects is for Killian to crouch in front of her.
One of his knees cracks.
“Don’t,” he warns, even as Emma does her best to swallow her laugh. Warm hands land on her thighs, a quiet steadiness that helps the state of her pulse and makes the possibility of the unknown a little less overwhelming. The lines crossing the center of the paper are absurdly straight. “You’re going to go.” “Oh, that sounded like a decree.” “A suggestion.” “A strong one.” “Mmhm, with the utmost confidence.” Emma makes an impressive sound. “Who’s doing your media training? What an impressive vocabulary you’ve got on you.” “Ready and willing to use it in a persuasive manner.” “Keep talking like that, and you won’t have to.” The smirk disappears. Evolves into a grin that is only Emma’s and only appears in moments like this, support clinging to air molecules and the ends of hair that constantly seems determined to fall into Killian’s eyes. “Passed, huh? All cool with the IOC.” “Decidedly cool. Officially an Olympic sport, now. Although the name could use some work. Sport climbing lacks a little oomph, don’t you think?”
“What would you call it?” “Emma Swan wins Olympic gold.” “Kinda wordy.” “Prophetic,” Killian corrects, hands shifting and pulling, and Emma has to widen her legs. His head’s at a very good kissing angle. “You’ve already got the qualifying numbers.” “You looked at the qualifying numbers?” “Don’t insult me like that. What do you think I did in the backseat?” “Planned the entire 2020 Olympics, apparently.” “Not the entire Olympics,” Killian counters, "just the part involving you. And maybe my individual expectations regarding the United States baseball team, but that’s another conversation altogether.”
“Naturally.”
“You’re using that voice.”
Widening her eyes does nothing. Emma didn’t expect it to. Not after years and games and events because rock climbing has events, and one time Mary Margaret made her a sign. Killian held it. He’s taller, that’s why.
“Don’t,” Killian repeats, “this is happening.” “Yuh-huh?” “You heard me. It’s your turn, now.” Melting is an impossibility. Like, for a human. Even so. Emma feels like she’s melting. Some of that pessimism evaporating under the warmth of Killian’s gaze and his hands and the determination in the precise angle of his chin. Same one he uses when he steps into the box with runners in scoring position.
Lumping herself into that group isn’t as insulting as Emma once believed it would be.
“God,” Emma groans, “that’s romantic.” “You’re really selling it, love.”
“This is supposed to be a hobby.” “One you’re exceedingly good it. World record good at it.” “I like you.” “That’s my end game, yeah.” She laughs. Smiles. Continues melting. Which is easier once they get rid of their clothing, and their bed is way more comfortable than any hotel they’ve encountered. And she falls asleep with Killian’s lips against her ear, Emma Swan, Olympic gold medalist whispered on loop like it’s a mantra he’s been practicing.
They postpone the Olympics.
It sucks. Everything sucks. Baseball sucks. Gyms are closed. Emma gets creative, and Killian gets research-prone. They build a makeshift wall. She tosses him BP.
People write stories about it.
It doesn’t help.
Until—
Time passes. Some things change. Others don’t. Their wall stands up to the elements of their building’s courtyard, and Killian’s hitting better than ever this season, a victory Emma’s going to claim as at least partially hers. And then the Olympics are back, and it’s qualifying and racing and a record that’s just out of reach, but she’s good enough even without it, and, this time, she’s the one packing a suitcase.
He kisses her.
Does the tongue thing.
Holds onto her like he’s only a little afraid she’s going to fall off the wall, but now the wall is international competition, and Emma’s freaking out a little.
“I love you,” she says into the crook of his neck.
His arms tighten. “I love you too.” “Gold medal?” “Gold medal.” “Hit some home runs while I’m gone, huh?” Lips graze her temple. Her forehead. The bridge of her nose. Emma might be crying, and Mary Margaret’s definitely recording, a small mob of red white, and blue surrounding them. “I’ll see what I can do,” Killian promises.
“Good.”
He hits three before her first qualifying round. So, Emma takes that as a challenge. She’s an athlete now.
It’s why, she figures, her fingers don’t slip on her first run.
Her feet are sure. Her breathing is steady. There’s no one cheering her name, but she’s long since memorized the exact way Killian’s voice lifts above a crowd. How he pushes up on his toes to watch, as if standing up taller makes sure he’s closer to her. Should she need him when she falls off the wall. Only, Emma doesn’t fall, and she’s got no intention of ever falling and—
Her laugh shudders out of her in a watery sort of way that makes the journalist still standing in front of her flinch ever so slightly. Twitter makes sure the video starts playing again as soon as it finishes, which is somehow the best and worst thing that has ever happened to her. Best because, well, Emma’s honestly not sure she’s ever seen her husband like this.
Worst because she’s very nearly goddamn crying. Again.
Bobbing on the balls of his feet in front of his locker, whoever’s recording the video — it’s Scarlet, obviously — is practically frenzied behind the camera, barely able to contain their laughter. Killian doesn’t notice. He’s holding his own phone, all five of his free fingers firmly entrenched in the back of his hair. It’s gotten softer with age, Emma thinks.
She can’t stop watching him.
Every inhale is a clear struggle, the bobbing turning into pacing and quiet mumbling she can hear perfectly. As if she’s standing right in front of him.
Or at least slightly to the side. So as not to stand on the logo in the middle of the clubhouse.
Athletes are notoriously superstitious, too.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” Killian chants, another noticeable snicker from Scarlet, “right there, right there, and pull, pull—Swan, pull up!”
“I did pull up there,” Emma mumbles. To the reporter, maybe. Or the world. Possibly her husband. Who was definitely more nervous about the first run than her.
God, that’s romantic.
Killian’s still talking. Shouting, more like. It’s a miracle Scarlet hasn’t fallen over yet.
“Faster, faster, you can go faster than that, Swan—” Emma clicks her tongue. “That’s kind of insulting.”
There’s an appropriate titter of laughter from the peanut gallery, which is a joke she was not trying to make, but she’s also dangerously close to swooning in the middle of press and she should have asked the Yankees for media training. Someone would have made sure she didn’t make a total ass of herself.
“Show me the time,” Killian yells, another demand that isn’t that. It’s too wobbly a string of words to hold any real power, just the supportive sort of desperation Emma’s felt in a variety of ninth innings and series-clinching moments. “Faster! Faster!” “Talking to the time or the judges or your wife?” Scarlet asks.
Killian nearly snarls.
Emma blinks. Hyperactively. Crying is not usually her shtick. More camera flashes...flash, Emma barely noticing them with her eyes glued to a phone screen that isn’t hers because she at least knows not to bring her phone to a press conference, and she can only imagine how many text messages she’s gotten.
Even on the other side of the world.
They post the times.
She knows because Killian gets some rather impressive height on his celebratory vertical. Fingers abandoning his hair, his fist pumps the air, and Scarlet’s not laughing so much as he’s whooping, a steady stream of yeah, yeah, yeah in the background. And for about half a breath, Emma’s worried Killian may turn one of his ankles on his landing, but he’d think that was insulting, and she’s really just full-on swooning now.
“How many people have seen this?’ she asks the reporter, already knowing the answer.
The reporter smiles anyway. Emma should learn her name.
“Pretty much the whole world.” When Emma was a kid — the sort of kid who believed alone was better, and there was strength in singularity, that would have terrified her. Bowled her over, really. Left her running without looking back, desperate to shed any sort of notoriety because notoriety meant attention, and attention meant inevitable disappointment.
Maybe that’s why she was never much of a sports person.
Sports disappoint you. They build you up and let you down, a sharp and sudden fall without a safety net. But sometimes. Sometimes, every so often, something wonderful happens. Sports lift you. Right up an indoor wall. Because, she knows, sports’ power comes from belief, from surrendering yourself to something bigger and better, and she’s back on that alliterative kick, but the tears are barely clinging to her eyelashes now and Emma herself is bigger and better, now.
In an international, decidedly romantic sort of way.
The video’s playing away.
“Let’s go,” Killian cries, and there it is. Her sound and their sound, cheering across an ocean and time zones that are still kind of messing with her sleep schedule.
Emma’s smile stretches.
“Let’s go,” she repeats.
It ends, as with most things in Emma’s gold-medal-winning life, because Anna plans it.
Stepping out of the terminal, it takes less than a full breath for the cheers to start. For the banners to lift and the tears to flow, a small platoon of support covered in the sort of patriotic gear they definitely got from the Old Navy in Herald Square.
Flashes burst behind Emma’s eyelids because she’s got to blink or she’ll definitely fall over. Her legs wobble beneath her, contending against a wave of triumph and jubilation, which is sort of the same word, but they’ve got a game at the Stadium tonight, so she doesn’t expect, she just hopes and reaches, and he has to twist around both Anna and Mary Margaret.
It’s wonderfully cyclical.
As is the way Emma slams herself against him. On purpose, this time. Killian’s arms tighten, more cheers and shouts, and people a few feet away start chanting USA over and over. Emma barely hears them. Her feet aren’t touching the ground, so she’s kind of preoccupied.
They’re all arms and mouths, and her legs wrapped securely around a body that probably shouldn’t be supporting hers when she knows he slid into second two nights ago, but Killian clearly has no intention of letting her down, and the medal around her neck bumps against her rings.
“You’re a very good cheerleader; you know that?” He hisses. In what, Emma can’t imagine. Embarrassment, if the red tips of his ears are anything to go by, and she’s got ideas as to why that is and how long the conversation about social media with Scarlet went, so Emma does the only reasonable thing.
She slams her lips against her home-run hitting husband’s, doing her best to make sure the gold medal doesn’t mistakenly impale either one of them, and the world tilts again. With victory and sports-based support and the sort of love that comes from believing in something bigger.
And better than Emma could have ever imagined.
“I didn’t want to steal your thunder.”
“Please,” Emma scoffs, “don’t insult me like that. Plus, I’m claiming every one of those home runs as my own, so comparatively—” He kisses her before she can say anything else.
That’s for the best, probably.
“Your arms looked ridiculously good the whole time.”
Her laugh doesn’t even sound like her when Emma hears it played back — another video that someone tells her goes viral, only she doesn’t care about hits or site traffic, just about the particular shade of blue in Killian’s eyes, and she wears her medal to the game that night.
Because they’re a sports power couple, now.
Or so the New York Post back page claims the next day.
Emma frames it.
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tiffdawg · 4 years ago
Text
Curriculum Vitae: Chapter Fifteen
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Gif: @bestintheparsec​
curriculum vitae noun cur·ric·u·la vi·tae Latin. the course of one’s life.
Pairing: Javier Peña x Reader (fem; no y/n)
Word Count: 7.0k
Rated: E  | Warnings: NSFW – explicit sexual content, sex, public sex, oral sex (female receiving), cumplay, dirty talk. Mentions of alcohol. Mild language. 18+ only.
Chapter Summary: In this chapter, you and Javier attend the holiday party for the social sciences’ faculty.
A/N: I really risked it all for y’all just to login and post this. I still haven’t seen the finale so I’m going to drop this and run but I’d love to know what you think. I hope this chapter makes the extra-long wait worth it.
Read on AO3
CV Masterlist | My Masterlist
… . …
Chapter Fifteen
Unsurprisingly, things were tense the next morning
Javier was up before you but that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Although considering it was a quarter past seven you wondered how much sleep the man could’ve gotten. What was surprising was that you woke alone.
Then you ate breakfast together in silence. Moved about your 400 square foot studio in silence. Worked across the dining table grading papers in silence.
Javier was never an overly talkative person but that was unlike him. It was unlike the two of you. You knew there were things from his past that troubled him. Things you couldn’t even begin to imagine. The longer you’d known him, the more time you spent together, the more you felt his sadness. But he seemed determined to hide it from you.
However, you couldn’t dwell on it. Not until you’d finished grading exams and assigned final grades and could put the fall quarter behind you. With a Monday deadline, work came first.
Eventually, Javier finished his grading. He gathered his things to go home and dress for the faculty party that evening, leaving you with just a kiss on your cheek and a promise to pick you up at six. You hummed noncommittally as you watched him leave.
Sunny whined at the closed door before looking over her shoulder at you with a silent question in her wide brown eyes. “I don’t know what’s wrong either,” you answered with a shrug. She laid down where she was, head on her paws and a rather sad expression of her face.
… . …
By some miracle, you were able to focus long enough to finish your grading with enough time to spare to get ready for a night out. At 5:58 you walked out of your building into the dark evening and found Javier waiting for you at the bottom of the stoop. It was a chilly night and you pulled your wool coat tighter around you as you closed the last bit of distance between the two of you. For the first time that day, as he held his hand out to you, he smiled. It was nothing more than a slight pull at the corner of his lips, but it was something.
You took his hand and let him lead you toward his car. When he reached into his coat pocket, presumably in search of his keys, he pulled out a half-finished pack of Nicorette. He tossed it in a nearby trash can.
“Why did you do that?” you asked without thinking.
He shrugged as he unlocked the car and opened the passenger door for you. “I don’t need it.”
You made no move to get in. “I thought you were trying to quit.”
“I… I did.”
“Really?” you asked, not bothering to hide your excitement.
“I haven’t needed it for a couple of weeks now actually.”
 “Javi, that’s amazing,” you smiled as you brought him to you for a kiss by the lapels of his coat. “I’m so proud of you.”
 He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re proud of me?”
 “Yeah,” you said easily. He still didn’t seem to believe you. You continued tentatively, afraid you might say the wrong thing but needing to say something all the same. “Sometimes I just– I feel like I don’t actually know that much about you. Or, I should say, about your past. And I don’t need to know anything more than what you want to tell me,” you added quickly. “But I see you. I see you trying to be a better man. Everyday.” Your hands moved on their own accord to cup his freshly shaved cheeks. “I’m proud of you. Even if you think it’s silly.”
“I–” Javier opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn’t manage more than that single syllable.
Instead, he stared at you. You might’ve crossed some unspoken line, but you didn’t care. You’d meant everything that you said. His eyes shifted away as he stared at something past you for a drawn-out moment. “Come here,” he finally managed, and he pulled you into his embrace. The two of you held each other in the middle of the sidewalk, letting the few people out and about walk around you. “You’re too good for me, compañera.”
“I know,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood. His fingers dug into your sides and you laughed. “Are we going to talk about what happened last night?”
He sighed heavily. “I’d rather have one good night with you before I leave. I’m not going to see you for more than two weeks.”
Deciding not to question it, you put it out of your mind. Maybe what happened was a one off. Still, you pulled back and scowled at him. “Then stop being such a….”
“An asshole?”
“Exactly.”
He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes but nodded his agreement. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your temple.
“You gonna make it up to me?”
 “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve got plans for you tonight.”
A chill shot down your spine at the insinuation. “Good,” you smirked, “so do I.”
… . …
The country club was only a short drive past the university and up into the hills amongst rows of gated mansions. Slipping out of the car before the valet approached, you darted in ahead of Javier. The bubble that the two of you were living in still didn’t extend to work, not entirely. Not beyond fucking in your offices and occasionally brushing hands under the table at faculty meetings.
Inside, the already gilded ballroom was draped in silver and gold holiday decorations from ceiling to floor. Every inch sparkled and shone in the chandelier light. Your colleagues from across the school of social sciences crowed the hall, all dressed to the nines with glasses of champagne and hors-d’œuvre topped with caviar in their hands.
You politely made your rounds before you found yourself conversing with Debra by the bar as you waited for a cocktail. She was her usual gossipy self, going on and on about the latest office drama. That was when you first spotted Javier amongst the crowd.
He wore a well-fitted black suit – one that was significantly more flattering than some of his older ones and you idly wondered if it was new – with a white shirt, forgoing a tie so that his tanned chest was still exposed, even on a winter night. His dark hair was styled just enough to keep it off his face. Even from across the room, you could see the glimmer in his warm brown eyes as he chatted away with someone. You were surprised when he walked right up to Rafael Garcia, one of the younger professors from the political science department. You watched as they shook hands and he was introduced to his wife, noting the genuine smile on his face.
“We just started seeing each other a couple of weeks ago but it’s going well so far. I really like him.” Deb’s voice brought you back to the present.
“That’s nice,” you replied absentmindedly.
“What about you, doc?”
“What? Oh, no. I don’t have time for something like that.” You waved her off, but your eyes still followed Javier across the room. You tried to ignore the heat pooling in your stomach.
“That’s a shame.” Debra looked out at the crowd and sighed. “He never flirts with me. Not anymore, at least.”
“Your new boyfriend?”
“No,” she laughed and smacked your shoulder playfully. “Javier,” she answered, lowering her voice.
You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Although you hoped it wasn’t that obvious who you’d been looking at. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. And don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Sure, but Javier was always fun to flirt with. It certainly made work more interesting. You know,” she took a sip of her martini, “the two of you seem awfully friendly lately. I thought you hated him.”
“I do,” you answered quickly.
“Well, don’t let Dr. Campbell hear you speak ill about his favorite lecturer.” She raised her brows over her class as the department chair approached the two of you. You stifled a sigh.
… . …
Javier sipped at his drink as he listened to Sofia Garcia regal him with the story of how she met her husband. He’d hardly spoken to the man before than night, but after five minutes with his loquacious wife, he felt like he knew his whole life story.
“I played on the Mexican women’s national team for a few years after college until I injured my knee. But it was a blessing. I was offered a coaching position here a week later and by the end of my first season we were engaged.” She held up her left hand where a modest diamond sat on her ring finger. “That was nearly fifteen years ago. Now he’s the only one who plays soccer.”
“Yeah,” Rafael scoffed, “I play in an adult league with my cousin and some old college friends. That hardly counts. She’s the real athlete.” He looked fondly on his wife who beamed back at him. Even Javier had to admit they made a handsome couple. And it had nothing to do with his expensive looking suit or her champagne dress. It was something about the way they looked at each other. they were easily better conversationalists than most of the people in that room. You weren’t kidding when you said academics only knew how to talk about journal articles and research funding. “You ever play, Peña? We’re actually looking for one more.”
Javier shook his head. “I played when I was a kid but that was a long fucking time ago.”
“Don’t worry, man, it’s not that serious. We drink the whole game. All you gotta do is pay for the keg when it’s your turn.”
Javier laughed, surprised by his answer. “I could get on board with that.”
The conversation moved on, but Javier was only half aware of whatever question he was being asked. Just over Rafael’s shoulder, he caught sight of you. With a red dress with thin straps draped across your form that left everything and nothing to the imagination, you looked… alluring.
“Hey, uh, you look like you could use a refill,” Rafael commented, pointing toward the bar where you were standing.
“Yeah,” Javier nodded, “I’ll catch you later. Nice meeting you, Sofia.”
“I hope to see you around, Javier.” She smiled kindly at him, but Javier was already on the move, swiftly cutting through the crowd as he contemplated the ways that he could get you alone.
“Whiskey. Dry,” he ordered, leaning against the bar next to you.
“How are you enjoying the evening, Professor Peña?” Debra simpered.
“Much better now that I’m talking to you lovely ladies,” he answered without missing a beat.
On cue, Debra’s whole face flushed bright red.
“I’ll have you know I’m spoken for now. Your charm won’t work on me anymore.”
“That’s too bad.” His eyes slid to you. And then up and down your body. “What about you, sweetheart?” He offered you the perfect set up on a silver platter. And you took it.
“Not in your wildest dreams, Peña,” you shot back. His lips quirked as he repressed a smile.
“Don’t you two ever get tired of antagonizing each other?” Debra scoffed before traipsing off. He was hoping that would work.
The bartender placed Javier’s drink on the counter and then he turned back to you, still admiring your dress. Now that he was near you, he noticed the fabric was a soft red velvet he wanted nothing more than to get his hands on.
“You looked like you were enjoying your conversation with Rafael.”
“He does some interesting work on South American politics,” he offered distractedly, his eyes snapped back up to yours. “I probably shouldn’t ask you to dance.”
You reeled back a little, as if the question surprised you. “Probably not. That might ruin the whole facade of me hating you.” He made a sour face as he looked at his glass in his hand, swirling the amber liquid a few times. “I wouldn’t have taken you for the dancing type, Javi.”
He grinned. “I love dancing.”
“You never take me dancing.”
“Fucking shame. I’m gonna start.” You beamed at him, uncaring, just for a moment, who saw. It was a smile nothing short of dazzling. He took a step closer. “You look stunning.”
“You drove me here.”
“I thought you were stunning then too. But you were wearing a coat and I didn’t get to see this.” He ran the back of his knuckles down the fabric of your dress just over that sensitive spot on your side he liked so much. “You were right. This is definitely worth it.”
“What if I told you there’s more,” you said unaffectedly, feigning interest in your empty glass. The mischievous look in your eyes when they met his confused expression gave you away. Gently, you brought his hand to your thigh, just under the hem of your dress, and his fingers instantly hooked around the strap of the garter belt holding your sheer stockings in place.
“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“What a way to go,” you cooed. His hand traveled up the strap to the apex of your thighs where he found little more than a thin piece of lace below the belt. “Careful,” you warned him, pushing his hand away.
Turning so that his body pinned you between him and the bar top and shielded you from the rest of your colleagues, he grasped your hand and brought it to the front of his pants “Can you feel what you do to me?” he said against the shell of your ear.
“That’s what I was hoping for.” Your smile was absolutely wicked.
“Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is not to kiss you right now?”
“Yes.” You squeezed him through his trousers. Javier might’ve looked remarkably calm, but he knew you felt his reaction. He steeled himself as he finished his drink and set the glass on the counter behind you.
“Follow me.”
… . …
Keeping a few steps behind him, you followed Javier back to the front of the club. You assumed he was leading you out to the car but apparently, he had something else in mind. He swung open the door to the coat check, since abandoned by the clerk now that all the guests had arrived and the party was in full swing. With some idea of what he had in mind, you hoped no one was inclined to leave early.
His mouth was on yours in an instant and as soon as the door was shut, you were pressed up against it.
“The coat closet at the holiday work party?” you asked in between fevered kisses. “Isn’t that a little cliché?”
“Honey,” he murmured against your neck as his lips moved lower and lower, “I know for a fact it turns you on when we fuck in public.”
His hand slipped underneath your dress again, following the same path as earlier, and he pressed his fingers against the lace covering your cunt, now soaked with your arousal. He pulled away to raise a brow at you, daring you to contradict him.
Instead, you palmed him again, finding him harder than before. “I’m not the only one,” you shot back. With your eyes locked on his, you dropped to your knees to loosen his belt and unbutton his trousers. Then you leaned forward to slowly pull the zip down – with your teeth.
“Fuck me” he gasped around a ragged exhale, his hips automatically bucking toward you. He watched you, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, before he hauled you to your feet with a hand on either arm. “Fucking dirty girl.”
“Wanna be your dirty girl, Javi,” you sighed, batting your lashes at him. You wanted him unraveled and unrestrained.
“Yeah?” he asked with a hint of excitement in his voice, and you nodded, satisfied with the response you’d gotten from him. Before you realized what he was doing, he spun you around and hiked your skirt up over your ass, letting it bunch around your waist.
“Hey, be careful. This dress is vintage.”
He just laughed against your ear. “You should’ve thought of that before you started this.” With one hand on your hip to hold you up, he kicked each of your ankles to prompt you to spread your legs before hooking a finger under the band of your thong and sliding them to the side. “Damn,” he growled when his fingers met your wet cunt. “I think you’re ready for me.”
“I was ready for you the moment I saw you tonight,” you answered truthfully.  
You felt his grin as he kissed the nape of your neck. He freed his cock and ran the tip through your folds. You knew better than to tell him not to tease you. That was part of it. That was what he enjoyed. He wanted you so strung out by the time he slipped inside you that you were already a mess and he knew just how to get you there. And that was exactly where you wanted to go.
He started to press inside you, slowly stretching you around him with each inch, and you delighted in the slight burn. Usually, he spent more time preparing you, but there was no time for that. Not when you were just hoping to finish fucking each other before someone came to collect their belongings.
You were wet and ready for him, but you were unable to stop the yelp that escaped you as he pushed in a little further.
“Quiet,” he snapped. Then, softly, he asked, “are you okay?”
You nodded. “It just takes a minute sometimes. You’re so big, Javi.” You felt him twitch inside you.
“You take me so well. This cunt was made for me.” Your ego burned bright at his praise and he slid in a bit more as you relaxed around him.
He held you, gently caressing you while you adjusted in what you assumed was a merciful act of patience. When you were ready, you rolled your hips to encourage him.
“Keep – shit – keep doing that. Feels so good on my dick.” You could imagine the debauched look on his face. You reveled in it even though you couldn’t see him. He reached around you to cup your pussy, fingers rubbing against your clit and following your movements as you circled your hips. You moaned in unison.
But it wasn’t enough. Not for you. Not for Javier.
“Hold on to something.”
His warning came just a moment too late. With a gasp, you fell forward clawing at the coats in front of you and fisting an expensive looking black peacoat in hopes of staying upright as he set a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck yes!” you whined.
“Are you even trying to stay quiet?” Javier hissed.
“Yes,” you replied weakly.
“Fucking liar.” You heard the smirk.
The hand playing with your clit moved to your mouth and he slipped two fingers past your lips. It effectively muffled your noises of pleasure as he pulled you down hard on his cock with every thrust. The only sound was the wet noise of him sliding in and out of your slick cunt and the slap of your stocking-covered thighs as they bounced against his. You felt that delicious pressure deep in your belly, right between your thighs, building steadily.
Until you heard a noise just outside the door and the two of you froze.
Without pulling out of you, Javier held you to his chest. As if that would somehow help. You could feel his heart beating against your back just as your own threatened to break through your ribs. Two sets of wide eyes watched the doorknob, waiting for any sign that someone on the other side was about to turn it. You held your breath as you listened carefully to the low voices murmuring, unable to tell who they belonged to or what they were saying. It was like they were hovering just outside the door. Taunting you.
Just as you were about to suggest redressing and making a run for it, Javier started moving in and out of you as a torturously slow pace. Despite the voices nearby, a small whimper escaped you. He shushed you gently. “Quiet, baby,” he whispered.
“But–”
“You wanted this.”
“Javi­–”
“You wouldn’t have worn this” –he fingered the garter belt– “if you didn’t want to end up just like this.”
He was right, of course.
“What if–”
“I’m not going to let that happen.” You had no idea what he thought he was going to do if someone did catch the two of you, but he seemed confident enough for the both of you. Coupled with the easy rock of his hips, you relaxed into his hold. The truth was, as much as you liked the freedom of your home, you missed this. This thrill that you trusted only him to give you.
As soon as the conversation faded away, he resumed his previous pace, punching the air right out of your lungs.
“Yes! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you chanted, forgetting the precarious situation you were in only moments ago. The coil in your belly tightened as you neared your crest, and you could tell by his less than precise movements that Javier just as close. And then, right as you were about to fall apart on his cock–
Javier pulled out and spun you back around in one swift movement. Before you even knew what was happening, he yanked down your panties and came all over you. Jaw dropping, you watched him work his length until every last drop was on you. White spurts of cum marked you and pooled in the black lace, already dripping down your thighs to the tops of your stockings. You placed a hand on either of his shoulders to steady yourself as your legs threatened to give out under you and stared down at the mess. Somehow, you were more turned on than before. You felt like you would actually combust from arousal. He held your panties in place for a moment, admiring his work, before letting the elastic snap against your skin and drawing your attention upward.
His breaths were jagged, stuttering and uneven. His head tilted back, and he looked down his nose at you with dark eyes that shone with something feral. Something sacrilegious. He was flushed and panting but a smirk tugged on his lips as he tucked his cock away and belted his pants. “You said you wanted to be my dirty girl.”
You swore you could feel your last brain cell short-circuiting. You were hyperaware of the errant drop sliding down your thighs, but you couldn’t look away from him. “Always,” you promised quietly.
You kissed him with everything you had. Javier took it greedily.
“You’re so good for me. Letting me cum all over you,” he said breathlessly, still kissing you. “I want you to keep it all in your panties so that while you’re out there talking to those pretentious professors you can feel my cum between your legs. Okay?” You nodded and he graciously straightened your dress, letting it fall over your messy thighs. “You first.”
“But I didn’t–”
“Only good girls get to cum,” he replied quickly, apparently knowing exactly what you were going to say.
“Javi,” you scolded breathlessly and pointlessly, “I– I am your good girl.”
“Not tonight. You can’t keep quiet. Do you want everyone we work with to know I’m fucking you in this god damn coat closet?” You shook your head. “Don’t worry, honey, this was just foreplay. I’m not done with you yet. Tonight, I’m gonna make you cum so fucking hard you’re screaming my name at the top of your lungs. I can’t do that here, but I can get you ready.”
Your head buzzed.
Some filthy part of you liked that he’d cum all over you. That he wanted to do that to you. You didn’t even need to cum because it’d felt that good. And you knew by the look in his eyes that he planned on making up for leaving you wanting, for making a mess of you. You instinctively understood that this was part of it. That even greater pleasure waited for you if you could just be patient and... and trust him. And you did trust him. You knew he would take care of you.  
If this was going to be your last night together for weeks — after hardly spending a night apart the last month and a half — then this was just the start.
“Okay,” you agreed. “But you’re a fucking tease, Javier Peña.”
He laughed with genuine mirth in his eyes. “You started it.”
“I’ll finish it,” you promised.
“I’m looking forward to that.”
You hesitated, teasing your bottom lip with your teeth. “Do we really have to go back out there?”
“It would be rude to leave so early.” You knew he didn’t care about staying. He was just tormenting you, playing a fucked-up game that had your head spinning like crazy. “But don’t worry. Eventually, I’ll take you home and fill you up. Just the way you like it. Now be a good girl” he said with a swat on your ass, “and go out first.”
Feeling defiant, you turned around and planted a kiss on his neck, purposefully leaving a smudge of red lipstick on his crisp white collar.
“Are you trying to get me in trouble?”
“Maybe I do want everyone to know your mine.”
He wiped away the lipstick he smeared when he stuck his fingers in your mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You know. That’s all I care about.”
… . …
The two of you didn’t make it another hour. Fifty-two minutes to be exact. Javier knew because he kept checking his watch only to decide that time had crept to a halt. He wanted nothing more than to take you home and finish what he’d started. Every time he glanced at you across the room, he found you squirming as you tried to keep a straight face while chatting with some colleague, and he had to look away and recompose himself.
It hadn’t been his intention to leave you wet and wanting and covered in his cum. It’d just happened in the heat of the moment. Some wild idea that he’d decided to act on. But you… you’d liked it. And so did Javier.
In reality, fifty-two minutes wasn’t that long, but it was enough time to suck up to the school’s dean. If Javier was going to be put on display as his prized lecturer for the year, he’d make him listen to him in return. Even if he had to turn up the fake charm to a ten in front of a group of wealthy alumni.
“Here she is now,” Javier said, taking a hold of your elbow as you passed by, physically dragging you into the conversation. You shot him a confused look, but he just smiled at the dean.
“Ah, yes, professor,” Dean Dalton started, “It would seem you’ve made quite the impression on Agent Peña.”
Javier elected to ignore his choice of title.
“Really? I wasn’t aware.” You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, but he could tell you were happy.
“I’ve had the privilege of reading a few chapters of her upcoming book,” Javier explained. “Trust me, you’ll want to see what she’s planning next.”
“As luck would have it, I’ve been talking to a few of our more generous donors tonight. Perhaps we should meet when classes resume to discuss how the school might be able to help your research.” The dean clinked his glass against yours and ambled off.
“What did you just do?” you asked, disbelief lacing your voice.
“I told you I would help you.”
“Oh my God… thank you,” you said softly. You stared at him for a long moment and he just held your gaze. “Will you take you home now?”
“Yes.”
Without wasting another second, you turned on your heel and headed toward the entrance. He followed eagerly. “Wait.” You stopped suddenly and his chest hit your back. You peered at him over your shoulder. “Don’t forget our tradition.”
He quirked a brow in silent question and your eyes flicked to the bar in response. It clicked. “Got it,” he said with a grin. He swiped the first bottle of champagne he could reach. Something so expensive he couldn’t even imagine the price tag. Something neither of you could ever afford on an academic salary.
… . …
Javier drove with one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on your knee, drawing circles on your thigh over the sheer material covering your skin. Late on a chilly December night, the streets were empty, and the drive was easy. The city was unusually peaceful.
“I still can’t believe you pulled that off,” you murmured dreamily. He squeezed your knee in response.
A few minutes later, he’d stopped at a light when you quietly said his name. He turned to you and found you staring at him. You looked relaxed and happy. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you how handsome you look tonight. All dressed up for me,” you offered sweetly. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.”
“How much did you have to drink?” he deflected.
“One drink hours ago. Nice try, but I’m sober.” You laughed but your teasing tone gave way to something softer. “You really are the most beautiful man.”
In his periphery, the light changed, bathed the inside of the car in a bright green light. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your beautiful face. Not when such an open, vulnerable sincerity graced your features.
“The light’s green,” you whispered.
“I know.”
A small smile broke out on your face.
… . …
Behind you, Javier trailed soft, lazy kisses along the slope of your neck as he slowly unzipped your dress, letting it hang loose around you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he smoothed his hands down your exposed back, thumbs gently digging into your flesh to massage your tired muscles. Every kiss, every touch, stoked the fire he’d ignited inside you hours ago.
“Let it fall,” he murmured against your skin. You slipped the straps over your shoulders and the fabric pooled at your feet. Then you reached for the clasp of your bra. “Leave it. I’ll take it off when I want to.” You bit back a devilish smile as he continued his ministrations. His lips followed his hands down your spine, and you gasped when he placed a kiss on the small of your back.
“Can’t decide how I want you first,” he mused.
“I want your mouth on me.”
He kneaded the flesh of your ass as he placed the lightest kiss on one cheek. “It is.”
“Not there.”
At your complaint, he snapped the garter belt strap so it stung against your flesh. But a firm hand on your back urged you forward until you were kneeling on the bed and he mouthed your cunt through the lace. “Here?” he asked, voice muffled.
“Yes,” you moaned, desperate for more.
“Maybe I should clean the mess I made on your pussy.” Without waiting for an answer, he pulled the fabric away and sealed his mouth over your hot, wet core, drawing an inarticulate slew of curses from you.
Hands gripping the backs of your thighs right at the tops of your stockings, he alternated between sucking on your clit, teasing the little bundle of nerves between his lips, and fucking you with his tongue. The constantly changing pressure was as intoxicating as it was frustrating — it was never enough but plenty to keep you hovering right on the cusp.
Until he finally – finally – gave you what you needed most.
Holding a steady pace as he flicked his tongue over your clit, Javier pushed you right over the edge.
Unable to breath, unable to move, unable to even think, you sobbed, cunt still pulsing around nothing, when he unceremoniously flipped you over and entered you. He slid into your dripping heat easily. And somehow, your first orgasm rolled right into the second as his cock struck something magic inside you, sparking a whole new wave of pleasure.
“You can’t stop coming, can you?” he asked, grunting as he pounded into you.
It just kept going. And going. Wave after wave relentlessly rolling through you. Unceasing in the best way imaginable. Javier knew your body so fucking well. He was the only one who knew how to do this to you. “No,” you mewled deliriously, body still shaking under him.
He thumbed away a tear rolling down your cheek. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. His hand left your face to knead a lace covered breast. “You look so fucking hot.”
“Fuck me harder, Javi.”
He pulled out all the way and your hips lifted, chasing him, but he pushed your knees to your chest and shouldered between your legs. “You’re not going to be able to walk when I’m done with you.”
“Good. I wanna feel you for days.” you said, ignoring the pang in your heart that told you that you were going to miss him.
“Fuck,” he spat. Your cunt drenched his cock as he slipped back inside, and your breath hitched as he hit deeper at the new angle.
“Right there!” you cried, arching up against him, “oh, God, right there!”
“One more. Give me one more,” Javier demanded, lacing your fingers together and pining your hands above your head, “But not until I tell you.”
You nodded eagerly, happy to give him whatever he wanted. “I get to tell you when too. Please, Javi.”
“Whatever you want baby. You fucking earned it.”
He kept slamming into you and every stroke of his cock rubbed against your inner walls perfectly. You swore you could almost feel every ridge and every vein of his thick length as he fucked you. Your third orgasm was tantalizingly within reach. You just needed his blessing, and you’d break.
“Alright, baby,” he panted as he rocked his hips against yours, grinding his pelvis against your clit, “cum all over my cock.”
Just like that, that tight coil inside you he’d been winding up all night snapped, and you came for a third time with a wanton cry. His name tumbled from your lips repeatedly as your body writhed beneath him, cunt spasming around his cock.
“I need to cum,” he ground out, voice cutting through the haze of pleasure.
“Ask me nicely,” you teased when your senses had returned to you just enough that you decided it was your turn to play with Javier. You wanted it to be just as good for him as he made it for you.
“Please.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“Baby, please.” Javier’s broken words trembling around the edges as he begged you. His brown eyes, eclipsed by his dilated pupils and wet around the edges, stared deeply into yours and you almost gave in.
“Don’t stop.”
He made a desperate sound but kept going, snapping his hips against yours harder and harder.
“Almost there, Javi. You’re doing so good for me,” you praised, encouraging him. His jaw clenched and you kissed his neck, sucking hard on the straining muscles. His hands gripped yours so tight it hurt, and his face screwed up as he panted with each thrust. “You can cum for me, Javi. Fill me up.”
His lips crashed against yours in a desperate gratitude, and his hips stuttered as he came hard. He gasped for breath even as your mouths moved messily together. His cock twitched inside you as he painted your cunt like you’d been patiently waiting for all evening, until his body gave out and he collapsed on top of you, still locked in an embrace.
“Was that good for you?” you asked. When you didn’t get an answer, you prodded his side. He startled, eyes suddenly blinking up at you.
“What?”
“I asked if that was good for you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, that was... it’s always good with you but that was...” He trailed off and you thought he might’ve actually fallen asleep on you. “I’ve never cum so hard in my life. I think I fucking blacked out.”
“I didn’t know my pussy was that good.”
“Are you kidding me? I fucking love your pussy.” He was positively beaming at you. He cursed with a sigh as he laid his head back on your chest and you threaded your fingers through his damp locks, holding him close while you could.
… . …
You sat half in Javier’s lap in the middle of your bed, sheets strewn about from your previous activities, both completely naked but freshly showered. He moved his mouth against yours, tasting you, drinking you in until he was as lightheaded from your kisses as from the champagne. His hands roamed your body, touching you for no real reason other than to memorize your gentle curves. One hand cupped a breast and the other squeezed your hip, both moving slowly until they met to cradle your face.
He pulled away to look at you. No fancy dress, no jewelry, no make-up. Just you.
“Still stunning,” he whispered.
You smiled softly and pressed your lips to the bridge of his nose. “Still handsome,” you countered. Chills erupted across his skin, but you mistook his reaction. “Come here.” you pulled the blankets up as you settled back against the headboard. He followed, swiping the bottle of champagne off the nightstand. Without bothering with glasses, surely a disservice to something so expensive, he took a swig and handed it to you. It was bubbly and light and perfect for the evening.
“You never told me what you’re doing for the holidays.”
“Oh, nothing much,” you responded as you took the bottle from him. “Bev’s family celebrates Christmas. They always do gifts with the kids in the morning but then her mom and in-laws and whoever else in the family is around go over for a big dinner. She insists I come to keep her sane. Her mom and mother-in-law don’t exactly get along.”
“What about New Year’s?”
You took a long pull before sighing. “Well, I usually spend the night with Sunny watching old movies and drinking too much wine.” Your face pinched. “That sounds much sadder when I say it out loud.”
“You don’t mind being alone?”
“It’s been this way for years now.” You smiled, a rueful thing. “I’m used to it. I’m usually so tired after the quarter ends that I don’t mind the time alone.” You tried to brush it off, but he could hear the sadness in your voice.
“You could–” Javier stopped himself. “You could call. Anytime. I’ll give you my dad’s home number so you can reach me.”
That time your smile reached your eyes, crinkling the corners as you looked away bashfully. “That’s really sweet of you.” You reached for his hand and added, “I’ll call you at midnight in Laredo.”
“We’ll talk until midnight in Los Angeles.”
You curled up next to him before Javier could decipher your expression.
When he felt your breathing even out, surely sated from the sex and exhausted after the quarter, he pried the bottle from your grasp. He finished the last bit before setting it aside and switching off the lamp, careful not to disturb you.
Javier held you close, not unlike the way you��d held him the night before. He knew he needed to get his shit together. He didn’t want you to see that part of him. He needed to protect you from his past. But he didn’t know how to do that when he couldn’t even protect himself.
He flicked off the light and hoped for a peaceful sleep.
… . …
The first thing you noticed when you woke up the next morning was the dark bruise that you’d sucked onto Javier’s neck the night before. You ran your fingertips over it, outwardly cringing but inwardly, well, preening. This time it had been you who left those little love bites on his neck.
“Did you mark me?” he asked, his voice barely more than a quiet rumble. “Fucking felt that last night.”
“I didn’t mean to,” you answered, looking up at him as innocently as possible.
“Don’t lie to me,” he grumbled as his eyes blinked open. “You were a woman determined last night.”
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“I liked it,” he grinned, but it faded quickly. “I forgot I was going home today. My dad’s picking me up at the airport.”
“Oh shit,” you laughed, burying your face against his chest.
“Don’t laugh. That’s not funny.”
“Maybe you should try buttoning your shirt like a normal person for once.”
In one smooth movement, he flipped you over and caged you beneath him. “You’re pushing your luck,” he tried to warn, but the grin on his face and the glint in his eyes betrayed him.
“What time is your flight?” you asked, soothing a hand across his face.
“One.” He glanced over at the clock. “It’s ten now.”
You wondered, just for a moment, if he would stay with you if you asked him to. If he would pass the holidays with you so you wouldn’t have to be alone. But that was foolish. And more than a little selfish. He had his family to go home to.
“You should probably go.”
“Yeah,” he sighed, “I should.”
He eased his hold on you but made no move to leave. Not until he’d placed a kiss on your lips and one on your forehead in a gentle goodbye.
... . ...
Thank you for reading! 💗
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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago
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Touch Starved (Kelley O’Hara x Reader)
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Request: R is really touch starved and Kelley hugs her for a second, but R doesn't let go and then Kelley agrees to be carried around for the whole day so that R feels better.
Author’s note: This one turned into something that i wasn’t expecting it to, so i really hope that it met the request, and if it didn’t a apologize. So there’s no Smut in this, but there are some adult themes. So proceed at your own risk. Let me know what you think, and hit me up with Ideas, Requests or if you just want to say hi. I hope you enjoy. 
Your family was one of the reasons that you had never agreed with the idea that the grass was always greener on the other side. From the outside looking in, you were the model family. Your dad was the VP of a very prominent law firm and your mother was one of the best prosecutors in the country. But that success had come at a cost. Their work and the public’s perception of you came before everything else. They were both cold and distant with you and your older brother, substituting love and affection with material objects designed to keep up appearances and keep you quiet. Any deviation from perfection was a stain on the pristine family image that your parents had built their lives around. 
They demanded that you live up to the impossibly high standard that they had set for you. Your brother had thrived in that environment. He had followed the path that your parents had laid for him, succeeding in both college and medical school, getting married to the daughter of the CEO of the firm your parents worked for and pumping out three beautiful baby boys before he had turned thirty. He was exactly the person who your parents had wanted him to be.
You, on the other hand, were not. You struggled in school and decided that moving to France to play soccer was a better option than marrying the boy that they had picked out for you (considering that you were much more interested in kissing his sister than you were in kissing him). They had all but disowned you, giving you 2 hours to pack up all of your things and get the fuck out of their house. By the time you turned 19 you had been called up to the national team, proving to them that you weren’t throwing your life away on some childish dream. The day your call up was announced was also the first time you heard from your parents in the two years since they had kicked you out. You would have preferred it if they had left you alone. 
It had taken the team a long time to break through your stoic exterior, to show you that expressing your feelings was a strength and not a weakness. They had taught you that you were allowed to love whoever you wanted without feeling ashamed of it. One feisty woman, in particular, had convinced you just how nice physical contact could be, and that strength it took to become completely vulnerable to someone.
With Kelley, you could give in to the urges that had plagued your childhood, and let her take care of you in every way imaginable. She was so much more than simply your girlfriend, she was your rock, sounding board, and the love of your life. She also may or may not have taken up the role of Daddy to your brattier side, but that was beside the point. You were addicted to her touch and you felt anxious when you didn’t have it. You had been attached at the hip for the past 4 years, so that was why the team was shocked when the two of you had shown up to camp just after the holidays separately.
“Did you and Y/n get into a fight?” Alex asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she plopped down beside Kelley in the hotel conference room. Kelley’s eyes flicked away from the door and towards her friend for a short moment.
“Nope,” She said shortly, unable to prevent the annoyance from leaking into the short word. She was completely done with this entire situation. She hated being away from you, to begin with, and the reason for your abrupt separation was doing nothing to calm her nerves. 
“That was convincing,” Tobin murmured, sitting next to Alex and placing a possessive hand on her leg. Kelley rolled her eyes. She hadn’t been happy when you had to leave her two days after New Years, but you hadn’t had much of a choice. It was your mother’s 50th birthday, and your father had demanded that you attend. 
“Where is she then?” Christen asked soothingly, sitting in the row behind them, and beginning to card her fingers through Alex’s hair. Alex melted into the touch, and Kelley sighed. What she would give for that to be you right now. You were going to need some serious TLC when you arrived, and she was going to make sure you got it...
“Her plane from Chicago should be landing in a few minutes,” She said shortly, pulling her phone from her pants and checking to make sure you hadn’t texted her that your flight was delayed. 
“Chicago? Don’t her parents live in Chicago?” Alex yelped, worry taking over her features. The team knew about your parents, and how you repeatedly twisted yourself into knots to gain their approval. They always used your desire for them to finally be proud of you as a way to control you. You knew that, but even with the support of your best friends and girlfriend, you couldn’t seem to smother the desire to prove to them that you weren’t just a black mark on their precious family image. 
“Yep,” Kelley gave them a curt nod. She wasn’t happy you had insisted on going by yourself. Kelley would have gone with you, but after their last meeting, it was decided that everyone would be better off if you went alone. You were better at keeping your composure under your parents’ criticisms and backhanded compliments than Kelley was. She was too protective over you to just sit there and smile while your parents ripped you to shreds. 
“Alone?” Tobin asked, her eyebrows raised as she took in Kelly’s nod. ”That sounds bad” Tobin murmured and Kelley shot her a withering look.
”How bad?” Christen urged, leaning forward in her chair and playing a hand on Kelley’s shoulder. You craved touch, and if your parents were anything like Kelley had described them, you weren't getting any affirming pats or comforting strokes. Hopefully, your plight didn't go much deeper than that, but the look on Kelley’s face told her that it did. That it was worse than just some touch starvation. 
“Last time I heard from her, her dad was throwing a fit because she cut her hair short and died it blue 3 days before she went there. That was on Thursday, ” Kelley mumbled hoarsely, the sound of your Father screaming about how much of a disgrace you were still clear in her mind. You had tried to calm her down, to tell her that it wasn't a big deal, but no one had the right to talk to you like that. 
“So, she’s in trouble for not communicating?” Alex asked hesitantly, biting her lip. She remembered the last time the two of you had forgotten to check in with your respective partners when you went to the mall. Christen, Kelley, and Tobin had made the two of you hold their pockets everywhere they went for the next week on top of their spankings. 
 “No. Her mom took her phone because she was texting me and not paying attention to the ‘parade of suitors’ they had brought through to try and ‘fix’ her, ” Kelley growled lowly. Your parents just couldn't seem to accept that you had no interest in men and that you were in a very serious relationship with a woman. A relationship that was so serious that there may or may not have been a very nice ring sitting at the bottom of her bag just waiting for the right moment. 
“So what’s the plan when she gets here then?” Christen asked carefully. 
“I’m going to see what she needs, and then give it to her,” Kelley said with determination. She would fly to Chicago and beat the crap out of your parents if that was what it took to make you feel better. You were bound to be touch starved when you got here, but the touch you craved was yet to be determined. 
“And we’ll be prepared to smother her in cuddles after?” Alex nodded, a pout forming in her face. You were her best friend, and if it was cuddling you needed, cuddles you would receive.
“Maybe,” Kelley mumbled. She didn’t want to burst Alex’s bubble, but she wasn’t sure what state you would be in when you got here. It was possible that you would want to be smothered in the love and cuddles of the friends who had become your family. Or could just need a more intimate form of comfort that the two of you most definitely didn’t do with the other three. It was also possible that you would need a more… physical release to deal with your emotions. 
” Let's just see how she is when she gets here baby horse, ok?” Tobin whispered gently in Alex’s ear, making eye contact with Kelley. She understood that they wouldn’t know what you needed until Kelley could get a better assessment of the situation. 
  Kelley’s eyes were glued to you the moment you stepped through the door. She took in the slump or your shoulders and the dark circles under your eyes. 
“Hey, little one. I missed you,” she stood and went to pace a kiss on your lips, but was instead engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. 
“Missed you too Kels” You mumbled tiredly into her neck, running your nose along the Colum of her throat, just taking in the comforting scent of your girlfriend. She allowed the hug to go on for a few minutes, before trying to pull back and look at you. You whined loudly and squeezed her even tighter. 
“you alright?” She asked into your hair, trying to untangle herself from you enough to look you in the eyes. You growled lightly and clung impossibly tighter to her. She sighed, rubbing a hand up and down her back.
“Mmm. Just let me stay here a little while longer?” You mumbled quietly into her neck, your shoulders relaxing when she nodded. 
“But let’s get a little more comfortable alright?” She whispered into your ear, laughing lightly when you groaned out an ok. She took a step back and settled herself into her chair, pulling you into her lap. You snuggled deeper into the woman, enjoying the first touch you had received in a week and taking in her comforting scent. 
She ran her hands up and down your back, sighing in relief when she felt your breathing even out and your body slump further into her. 
“Hey little one, look at me,” She said after a few minutes, using her hands to gently coax you out of your warm hiding place. You moaned in discontent but gave in to your dominant’s insistent fingers. She studied your Y/E/C orbs for a few seconds, before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “What do you need, baby girl?” She asked, her warm breath fanning over your mouth. 
“Just need you. Just hold me please?” You pleaded, your eyes growing glassy. You desired her touch so much that it hurt. 
“Shh baby. I’ve got ya. I’m not letting go,” She said, allowing you to burrow back into her, and resuming her careful strokes on your back. She tester her cheek on the top of your head, humming out a random tune to help soothe you. 
“You dyed your hair again,” Kelley mumbled, running her fingers through your newly brown hair. She felt you huff into her neck. 
“It was just easier than listening to him bitch about it,” You grumbled. You had withstood his constant pressure for 4 days before you had given in. You had loved the different shades of blue that ran through your undercut, and you knew that Pino would tease you about how boring the Y/H/C your father had insisted on. You also knew that Kelley would never let you redye it, as she wanted to keep your hair healthy. 
“Is that the same way your mom got your phone?” She joked, her lips quirking up at you. You were cute when you were clingy and grumbly, and it wasn’t a side to you that she got to see often. Your smile fade. 
“No. That fucking cu-” You spat out, only stopping because of the light swat delivered to your butt. 
“Hey. I know you’re upset but we don’t call people names,” Kelley said sternly, her smile also fading as she eyed you, waiting to see what you would do next. Carefully watching for your tells. 
“It’s not name-calling if it’s true,” You spat out. The word you had chosen would have been nice compared to some of the words you wanted to use for her. 
“Is that backtalk I hear little girl?” Kelley levels you with her stare, and you shrunk just a little. 
“No,” You mumbled sadly, your shoulders slumping. 
“You know what happens when you lie to me,” she raised her eyebrow at you. 
“But Daddy” you wined loudly, throwing your head back. 
“No buts,” She said softly, brushing a fallen hair away from your eyes. 
 “I haven’t gotten to see you in eight days,” You pouting at the woman, who just gave you an unimpressed look. You leaned forward and resumed your hiding in the hollow of her neck. 
“Yes, and you didn’t check in with me for 4 of those. I think that needs to be rectified doesn’t it?” She said slowly, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. You remembered what had happened the last time you and Alex had forgotten to check-in, and the amount of teasing you had endured from your teammates at the punishment they had chosen. 
“Don’t want a spanking,” you grumbled into her neck, burying your nose in her soft skin. You took a few deep breaths, allowing her scent to settle you. The hand rubbing circles on your back froze. Now was the tough part. You weren’t generally this winey, but Kelley couldn’t say that she was surprised. Your family was a lot to handle, especially for little ones like you. So the question was If you were acting bratty to get a reaction from her? Or was it the only way you could release your built-up frustration? 
“Do you need one though?” She asked you carefully. You thought about what you were feeling for a few seconds. You felt bad that you had let your family prevent you from communicating with Kelley, but you knew that it would have been nearly impossible to stop them. You also felt the shame and guilt your Father always imprinted upon you. You weren’t a good little wife for some CEO somewhere. He insisted that your place on the team would be short-lived and after you retired you would be screwed and he wouldn’t be there to pick up the pieces. 
You knew that you needed a punishment, but spanking wasn’t it. What you were craving was for Kelley to hold you and tell you how good you were. To smother you in love and complements, but you couldn’t find the words to tell her that. Instead, you sighed and shook your head. 
Kelley nodded back. She had been pretty sure of your answer before she asked the question, but communication was a hallmark of a good relationship. She was generally good at reading what you needed and wanted from your body language, but with you in such a fragile state, she didn’t want to risk being wrong. What you needed right now wasn’t a physical release, but instead, the contact and words of affirmation that you had been craving for the past week. She was almost positive that the only thing that would ease your mood was increased physical affection and reassurance that she loved you. 
“OK, I think that because you didn’t communicate with me for 4 days, you should have to carry me around for that amount of time. What do you think darling?” She asked, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. You smiled up at her. It was exactly what you needed. Well almost.
“Can I carry you to Alex’s room? Because her cuddles are almost as good as yours” You looked up at Kelly, fluttering your eyelashes. A smile broke across her face. 
“I counter your baby horse cuddles with bathtub cuddles,” she smirked, bumping your noses together and placing a sweet kiss on her lips. She knew how much you loved baths with her. It would be the perfect way to get you to finally relax. 
“With bubbles?” You questioned seriously. Not having bubbles was a dealbreaker, and an effective punishment incidentally. 
“Of course baby girl, I think you’ve earned them” Kelly ran a soothing hand through your hair, smirking lightly when your lips poured in contemplation. 
“To the bathtub!” You yelled, picking up the girl of your dreams. Kelley laughed at your goofiness. There would be time to deal with the aftermath of your family later, but for now, she would hold you and remind you that she was there and never leaving.
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xbaepsae · 4 years ago
Text
5280 feet (m)
“Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.”
[jimin x flight attendant!reader]
genre: mile high club!au, smut, slight pwp, some humor, some fluff (if you squint)
word count: 5.8k
rating: mature
warnings: uhhhh unprotected airplane sex lmao, fingering, oral, cum shot, more unprotected sex, creampie, mentions of alcohol, language
a/n: please tell me i’m not the only one who fantasizes about being a member of the mile high club?? LOL. i planned this fic a while ago, but forgot about it until yesterday. and surprisingly, all 5k+ came pretty naturally; of course, i never intended it to be 5k lol. the plot just kept continuing. xoxo
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“I think one of these days, I’m just going to collapse and die,” you say, taking a sip of your coffee. It tasted dark and bitter—much like your mood right now.
“Oh, you’re being dramatic,” Seokjin rolls his eyes, “you love this job.”
He was right—you did love being a flight attendant. It was probably the best decision you’ve ever made, and you’ve made a lot of bad ones. Instead of completing the standard four years of college, you managed one measly semester and decided school just wasn’t for you. The only reason you applied was for your mother’s sanity anyway; you promised you’d try, and try you did. Obviously, your mother freaked because your life was doomed—a fucking college dropout; what good could come from it?
Well, five years later, you’d consider your life pretty successful. Not only have you traveled all over the world, but you’ve met some interesting people. The only downside to this career was the demanding, god-forsaken hours.
Take your predicament right now as an example; you woke up this morning at around four o’clock, dazed and confused, before remembering that you spent another night at a hotel in an unfamiliar city. You’ve never really been a morning person, so you’ve yet to master the early morning calls.
After an entire day of flying, along with an array of rude and needy passengers, you are on the last flight of the day—the flight that is going to take you home to your bed.
Pulling your suitcases behind you, you and Seokjin make it to the gate of your final assignment for the day and greet the pilot. He lets you know that the flight is going to be over two hours and you’re completely okay with that.
“Whatever will get me home tonight, Yoongi,” you smile tiredly, realizing that your coffee is already finished.
“It shouldn’t be a terribly full flight, so I think we’ll manage.”
Yoongi boards the plane first, along with his co-pilot, to make sure everything is working properly, and lets you and Seokjin know that you two can board in ten minutes. In the time you still have to wait, people begin arriving at the gate. You hope Yoongi is right, and that the flight isn’t packed, because you honestly aren’t in the mood to deal with the audacious demands of people right now.
Quickly excusing yourself to the restroom, you freshen up a little and give yourself a little prep talk, “You can do this, y/n—just one more flight and then you have the rest of the week off.”
You are so looking forward to your break. Rarely do you ever get so many days off in-between your schedule, so you’re beyond excited. It was finally time for you and your bed to become reacquainted with one another.
When you get back to the gate, Seokjin offers you a smile. “Looking better.”
“I feel much better; maybe the caffeine is kicking in after all.” Some of your favorite workdays were the days you and Seokjin got to work together. It wasn’t often since your airline has multiple crewmembers, but these last rotation days have been fun—minus today since you’re in a rush to go home. “Got any plans when you get home?”
“I think my wife just misses me, so we’ll probably just be staying at home,” he laughs, and you wistfully sigh at the thought of marriage.
At that moment, you both get a notice to board the plane and you excitedly hand one of the desk attendants your boarding pass. As you both walk through the boarding gate, you can’t help but muse, “Must be nice to have someone to return home to.”
“Weren’t you seeing that one guy…?”
“Oh, Namjoon?” you ask, and Seokjin nods. “Yeah…I was; unfortunately, that didn’t work out.”
“What happened?” he asks.
Shrugging, you say, “I guess it was because I was busy? Being a flight attendant means I’m not always home, and Namjoon wanted someone who could always be around.”
“Are you doing alright though?”
“Oh yeah,” you nod, “I’m fine. Our relationship wasn’t that serious anyway and if I’m being honest, I really didn’t like Namjoon that much.”
Boarding the plane, you and Seokjin stow your bags away and begin preparing the necessities for the flight. After so many years in the business, all of this prep feels like second nature to you. Within minutes, you have almost everything prepped just in time for the passengers arriving on the plane.
As people begin boarding, you wear your best smile and greet them. One by one, you watch the different people boarding—you see everything from families to singles. Although you’re smiling at everyone, you’re not one hundred percent paying attention, that is until you catch the persistent gaze of one passenger.
You aren’t even actively looking at him; but you know that feeling of someone watching you? Well, for some reason, he was staring you down, so you had to look at him. And when you do, an immediate wave of heat rolls over your body. The moment he passes by you, towering a few inches above you in your modest heels, you catch a whiff of his cologne that sends a pulse down to your core.
Good thing you’ve perfected at least your poker face because hot damn that was that a fine piece of man in front of you. You’ve encountered hot passengers on other flights but never has someone affected you like this. Perhaps it was the swagger in his walk or the confidence that permeated the recycled air, but it was intoxicating.
From your peripheral, you notice that he found a seat early on the plane—meaning he was seated in first-class. You didn’t even pay attention to what he was wearing. Was he a businessman? Those are the types that always sit in first-class.
Soon, the doors of the plane shut, and you have to begin with the plane briefing and safety protocols.
“Y/n, for the safety demonstration, I’ll take the back half of the plane and you stay here in first-class, okay?” Seokjin asks from somewhere, but you can’t even focus. You absentmindedly nod before realizing that you’ll be in close proximity with that man from earlier. You’re about to protest when your friend suddenly speaks up again. “Actually, can you stay in first-class and the front of economy today? I’d rather be in the back of the plane.”
Oh, great. “Uh…sure. That’s fine, I guess.”
Beginning the safety instructions, you once again feel the same heated gaze from earlier and wonder if it’s because you look like a mess? Was there something on your uniform? You’ll be the first to admit that flight attending uniforms weren’t the cutest things in the world, but it was the standard, so you have no choice.
After you finish the safety instructions, you move onto the pre-flight service in first-class. You peaked and noticed that mystery man is sitting in the last row of first-class, so you don’t have to immediately talk to him. Even as you bring glasses of champagne and various other cups of liquor to the other passengers in first-class, the feeling of being watched never fully goes away. And eventually, you find yourself in front of him.
“Good evening sir, is there anything I can get you before we take off?” you try not to directly look at him.
“Yes, I’ll have a glass of your best red wine and you,” he says so smoothly, you almost don’t catch the bit at the end.
When you do, your eyes flutter to his. “Excuse me?”
“I wanted you to look at me, doll,” he smiles, and you feel your heart explode. This man was unbelievably attractive. You momentarily glance at his clothing and he is indeed wearing a suit. But he wears it in such a way that isn’t overly stuffy. Underneath his blazer is a simple white button-up, but the top two buttons are open and leave little to the imagination.
“Anything else besides the wine, sir?” you ignore the comment made about you.
“How about your name?” he asks, leaning towards you. Was he flirting with you?
You offer a passive smile, “I don’t think that’s on the menu.”
“Are you sure you’re not on the menu? Because,” he licks his lower lip, “I would love to have those long legs wrapped around me or maybe your sweet lips wrapped around my cock.”
If people could turn into puddles, you’d be a total melted mess right now. Instinctively, your thighs snap together, and you release a shaky breath. You nervously look around and hope no one thinks anything suspicious is happening right now. Quickly, you excuse yourself and air out the top of your uniform. It is too damn hot in here.
Walking back with a glass of red wine, you hand it to the extremely forward stranger. “Here you so, sir. I hope you enjoy.”
“I’m sorry if I was being too forward a moment ago,” he takes a sip of the wine and you watch as he licks a drop off his lips. “But you’re too beautiful and I can’t take my eyes off of you.”
“No, it’s…attractive,” you admit, which not only surprises him but surprises you too.
He gives you another mega-watt smile. “The name’s Jimin.”
“Y/n,” you finally relent just as Yoongi announces that the plane is ready for takeoff. Leaving Jimin with a last look, you go and take your seat as the plane lifts into the air.
***
Once the plane reaches a certain altitude and seat belts can be unbuckled, you begin the process off offering refreshments to the other passengers. You and Seokjin tag team this feat and Yoongi was right, there aren’t as many people on this flight; this makes the whole process much easier. Even though you’re occupied with offering cups of ginger ale and sprite to passengers, you can’t stop thinking about Jimin.
You blame the fact that you haven’t had a proper orgasm in a few days. Mix that with your awful day, and you’re dying for a sweet release. For the last half hour, Jimin has had you all hot and bothered. Never in your life have you met such a cocky, yet still strangely attractive, person. His words really struck a chord in you, and now you really can’t stop imagining your legs wrapped around him…or his cock in your mouth.
“Are you okay, y/n?”
You blink at Seokjin, “Fine—just tired.”
Putting the refreshment carts away in the back, you both do one round of garbage collection before Seokjin excuses himself to the makeshift lounge. On this plane, since it is a bit bigger, there is a little lounge for the crew. However, it only fits one person usually. Pouting, you make your way back to the front of the plane and double check with a few passengers.
As you’re about to pass first-class, you feel your core tighten from the thought of being in close proximity to Jimin again. Even though you feel his eyes on you once again, you ignore the sensation and focus on the other first-class passengers.
“Can I have another glass of champagne?” one woman asks, and you promptly bring her another cold glass.
You continue catering to everyone’s needs before you find yourself in front of Jimin again. Never have you been more thankful for the bit of privacy first-class offers because the pure and unadulterated desire that seeps from Jimin almost has you on your knees. “Can I get you anything else, sir?”
“Are you still off the menu, y/n?” he asks, and the way your name rolls off his tongue makes you weak. Your expression only seems to fuel his desire though. “I’ll have another glass on red wine.”
You practically run to get the wine. As you pour his drink, you honestly aren’t sure if you’ll make it the whole flight feeling this tense. There is still at least another hour and a half of the flight, but your self-control is wearing thin. Maybe if you just quickly slipped into the lavatory…your face heats at the thought. In all of your years as a flight attendant, you’ve never even once considered doing something like that.
As someone working in the airplane industry, you’ve heard of the so-called mile high club—people who have sex on planes. You will admit that the thought has always intrigued you, but to actually participate? Not only would you be jeopardizing your job, but also your reputation.
During your first year as a flight attendant, you heard a rumor about a girl who worked on a different airline that got fired for getting caught having sex on the job. You don’t remember the details of what exactly happened, but all you need to remember is that she ended up jobless and you don’t want that to be your reality.
Walking back to Jimin, you catch him staring at you again and tension once again radiates throughout your body.
“Here you go,” you hand him the glass of wine. Just as you’re about to walk away, his hands move to wrap around your wrist.
“Tell me about yourself,” he prompts, taking you by surprise. “What? Thought that I just wanted to fuck you?”
Your mouth drops at his boldness, and Jimin comments something that sounds like you’re cute.
“I mean, I do want to do that too,” he continues, hand wrapped underneath his jaw. “But I am curious to know more about you.”
“I’m twenty-three and I’ve been a flight attendant for almost five years,” you offer, unsure if that’s the kind of information he wants to know. “I love my job and I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.”
Jimin takes a sip of his wine before saying, “I’m twenty-six and I work in a multi-million-dollar business. I love-hate my job but couldn’t imagine doing anything else either.”
“Is that where you’re headed today?” you ask.
“Yeah,” he unbuttons another button from his shirt and proceeds to take off his jacket. Although you try to be discreet, Jimin catches your nervous swallow. “I do these business trips every month. I have a huge meeting tomorrow morning, which is why I took a flight tonight.”
“Well, if you have a chance, the city is beautiful and you should go sightseeing,” you tell him, surprised that you both are having a normal conversation.
“You’ve been?” he asks.
You laugh in response. “I live there.”
Jimin’s eyebrows perk up. “Oh, really? I wasn’t sure since I know flight attendants spend a certain number of days working prior to flying home.”
“This is my last flight of this particular schedule,” you don’t know why you feel the need to tell him this, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them.
“Interesting,” Jimin nods. “Don’t you think we should celebrate?”
At his question, your brows furrow. You don’t understand what he means. “Celebrate what?”
“This being your last flight.”
“How?”
Despite the setting sun casting the cabin in golden hour, Jimin’s eyes appear to darken in the light. Something mischievous glints in them and all he says is, “Three taps.”
***
You have no idea what three taps means.
After that comment from Jimin, you walked back to your seat to contemplate his words. There is no possible way anything can happen—there is less than an hour before they land now. What kind of celebration was he even talking about?
Mulling over his words, you do a walk through all the cabins with Seokjin and snicker when you see his bedhead. “Have a good nap?”
“Even though it was only twenty minutes, I needed that,” he smiles sheepishly
“No wonder you wanted to sit in the back.”
You pick up some trash from the passengers and throw it into the trash bag that Seokjin holds. “You can have a quick nap if you want.”
“Thanks, but no thanks,” you shake your head. “The flight’s almost over anyway.”
Checking your watch, there should only be about thirty minutes left of the flight. On your way back to your seat, you slip into the lavatory and splash some water on your face. You are still feeling a bit hot and bothered, but your house was within reach. And being home meant you could use all of your delicious toys tucked away in your side drawer.
Just as you wipe the water off your face, you hear a knock on the door. You yell out that it’s occupied, and even double check to make sure you locked the door. You did. So, who knocked? Throwing the paper towel away, there’s another knock on the door…and then another. Your stomach tightens when you realize there were three consecutive knocks—three taps.
You mouth runs dry at the thought of who might be on the other side of the door. There is also a jolt of electricity that runs up your spine at the thought of what’s going to happen, and even more so at the fact that you could get caught. Earlier, you were worried about getting caught and potentially losing your job; however, now, the risk thrilled you.
So, you decide to say fuck it and unlock the door.
Immediately, Jimin enters the lavatory and swiftly locks it behind him. You open your mouth to say something to him but before you can, he steps forward and pushes you back against the sink. Grabbing your face in his hands, his lips crash onto yours. You moan at the sheer force of his kiss. His lips move over yours as if he’s kissed your lips a thousand times. Like he knows exactly how to set you off.
You don’t know how, but clothes start coming off and you find yourself on your knees in front of him. Your breast are already on full display and he leans down to pinch your nipples before moving to cup your face.
“Suck my cock, baby girl,” Jimin coos, rubbing his thumb over your lips.
Unbuckling his pants, you reach into his briefs and pull out his cock. There’s already precum smeared over the tip and hard shaft, and you wonder just how long he’s been like this.
“I’ve been hard since the flight started,” he seems to read your mind. “The moment I saw that tight ass in that skirt…fuck.”
You take Jimin into your mouth without warning, marveling at his size and how you’re already dripping through your panties. You’re no prude, but you’ve never been this turned on in your life.
As you suck on the tip and work the rest with your hands, the sounds that come from Jimin’s mouth feed your desire. He’s surprisingly vocal—his moans high pitched and needy. “Yes…just like that, baby. You suck cock so well, huh?”
You hum in response, and Jimin’s hands weave their way into your hair. He guides you closer to his groin, his cock hitting the back of your throat. You choke at the sensation, but it’s worth the pleasure that Jimin seems to feel. He begins fucking your mouth; body shaking slightly at the feeling of lips around his cock.
Eventually, he pulls away and lifts you off the ground. Unexpectedly, he brings you close for another kiss—the sloppy, messy kind that moves from your lips to your jaw, and curves to your neck and collarbone. As he sucks bruises into the delicate skin of your shoulder, he raises you up on the sink and pulls your panties to the side.
The moment his thumb presses against your clit, you’re done for. You jerk at the way he works your little nub, nearly crying because you’ve wanted nothing more than release. “Oh my god, Jimin.”
It doesn’t take you long to feel the steady build of your orgasm coming. It really has been so long since you’ve felt this good; and when Jimin inserts two fingers inside of you, finding that g-spot, you come undone instantly.
“Fuck, I’m coming,” you arch back against the mirror and Jimin can’t help but stare at your expression in wonder.
“That’s right, baby,” he continues to rub your sensitive clit, helping you ride out your orgasm. “Keep coming for me, and then I’m going to fuck you so good.”
The second you come down from your high, Jimin pushes his cock into you and you let out the loudest moan. He fucks you hard and fast, hips slamming against your pelvis rhythmically. For a second, you wonder if he dances because there was no way normal hips should move that way. But that thought fades when Jimin pulls your closer to the edge of the sink, and somehow manages to get an even deeper angle.
“F-Feels so good, Jimin.”
“Yeah?” he asks, sweat starting to bead at his brow.
You nod in response and look down to see the way his cock looks entering your wet cunt. The sight alone would’ve been enough to send you over the edge again, but you held it in. More than anything, you wanted Jimin to come too. Wrapping your legs even tighter around him, you begin to meet him thrust for thrust. Soon, his hip movements become jerky and you know he’s close.
“I don’t know how much longer I-I can…” Jimin groans, slowing down. “Are you close?”
“Mhmm,” you moan. “I’m almost there….”
With a few more hard thrusts, and a thumb pressed to your clit, you shut your eyes as your second orgasm rolls over you. The way your walls clench around him have Jimin gasping as he pulls out and shoots his load all over your stomach. You watch the milky white ropes mark your skin, and even lift a bit into your mouth.
“You know, I would’ve swallowed,” you muse, loving the way Jimin’s expression darkens once again.
“I guess we’ll just have to do that next time,” he smirks, causing you to become speechless.
You both clean up in silence, and you try to make yourself look pre-coital. Jimin laughs at the way you attempt to straighten your wrinkled skirt, but you just pout because he looks amazing even with the just-fucked look. “No fair.”
“You look hot,” Jimin swears, pinching your butt a little and making you jump.
Jimin sneaks back out of the lavatory first and you follow behind a moment later, walking as casually as you can to your seat. Thankfully, you arrive just in time because Yoongi announces over the intercom that you’re descending soon, which means everyone needs to buckle up.
As the plane lands in the city, the sky is a gorgeous shade of purple dusk. Immediately, you feel reenergized from being home, and also because you just had the best sex of your life…in an airplane lavatory. You blush again at the thought of Jimin’s thick cock inside of you, and then sigh when you realize you’ll probably never see him again. What a tragedy.
The moment the plane pulls up to the gate, and Yoongi turns the engine off, everyone begins filing out of the plane. You bid each passenger goodbye and wonder why you haven’t seen Jimin yet—after all, he was sitting in first-class. Eventually, you realize he’s the last person to leave and when he stands in front of you, he sticks his hand out.
Instinctively, though confused, you shake it and he leaves without another word. You watch him step off the plane and feel…sad? Although you barely know the man, you were definitely intrigued and wanted to see him again. When you move to grab your bags, you realize that there is a slip of paper in your hand. Wait; did Jimin put it there? Quickly opening the note, you read it and a wide smile stretches across your face.
He gave you his number.
***
After you say goodbye to Seokjin and Yoongi, you waste no time texting Jimin.
9:01 PM | You: hi…this is y/n
9:01 PM | Jimin: y/n. didn’t think you’d actually text back lol
You can’t help but laugh a little at his response. Why wouldn’t you text back? Right now, the only thing you can think about is him.
9:02 PM | You: of course. I want to see you again
You send your next text without even fully thinking it through. It was impulsive and a bit unlike you to be so frank, that was clearly Jimin’s forte, but what was there to lose? If Jimin hadn’t secretly given you his number, there would have been no way you’d see him again.
By the time you make it to your car, Jimin hasn’t said anything back. Doubt and worry fills you—was he tired of you already? Maybe you were bad at sex? No, then why would he have bothered with the number anyway? Your mind swirls through terrible scenarios before you receive another message
9:06 PM | Jimin: me too, doll. Meet me at my hotel?
9:06 PM | Jimin: I would’ve waited but my ride was already here waiting for me, and I didn’t know if you…
Your body pulsates at the thought of seeing him now. Earlier today, all you wanted was to go home; now, the idea of warming Jimin’s hotel bed seemed too tempting to pass up.
9:07 PM | You: okay
***
You pull up to the hotel that Jimin sent the address to and gawk at the posh exterior. There are a number of ritzy hotels in your city, and you figured Jimin would be staying at a nicer one, but it was still shocking to experience.
As your mouth stays parted, someone gently taps at your window. You jump a little and see a man standing there. Rolling down your window, you take in his uniform and are about to ask where you can park.
“I can valet park for you, ma’am,” he says, cutting you off. “You’re with Mr. Park, correct?”
Who is Mr. Park? Before you have a chance to answer, your phone vibrates with a text message. Looking down, you see that Jimin’s texted you.
9:30 PM | Jimin: let the valet take your car
“Umm, okay,” you tell the man and step out of the car. Walking around to grab your luggage from the back, you see that another man has already fetched it for you. Is this what it’s like to have money? You quickly thank them both and make your way inside of the hotel.
As you reach the front desk, the receptionist offers you a smile. “Mr. Park is in the Presidential Suite. It’s on the very top floor, ma’am.”
Your mouth drops again, and you wonder if maybe you had the wrong perception of Jimin. When he mentioned on the plane that he worked for a big business, you figured he was just a normal employee. Yeah, every business has its perks, so you figured that was just the case. However, maybe Jimin is higher up the business food chain than you thought. Also, how did she know you were the person Jimin was supposed to meet?
After thanking the receptionist, you walk in the direction of the elevators. Getting in one, you press the highest number on the elevator and begin to go up. Once you make it to the top floor, you walk out of the elevator and realize there is only one door. You laugh a little; guess there’s no way you can get lost then.
Standing in front of the door, you knock three times and wait for Jimin to answer. Within seconds, he does, and you realize he only has a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is damp, and you marvel at the droplets that cascade down his body. He laughs at your reaction and ushers you to come inside.
But the second you’re through the threshold, your luggage tips over as Jimin pushes you against a wall.
“Hey, doll,” his breath fans across your face.
“Hey, Mr. Park,” you smirk a little. “So, tell me, just how rich are you?”
Jimin chuckles and begins to pepper kisses along your face and jawline. “I was hoping you wouldn’t figure that out. Tends to make people want to stay, if you know what I mean.”
Grabbing his face into your hands, you tell him, “Jimin, I don’t care that you have money.”
His expression softens at your words.
“And how could I not figure that out when you’re staying in a fucking Presidential Suite?” you continue, pressing a kiss on his chin. “Kind of a dead giveaway.”
“Fuck my money,” he rolls his eyes. “I just want to properly bury my face in your pussy.”
Fire ignites in your core as Jimin pulls you away from the doorway and past the main area. You barely have time to admire the ceiling to floor glass windows or the modern layout of furniture because he drags you into the bedroom. Jimin throws himself onto his bed, and you don’t miss the way his towel barely clings to his body. “Strip for me.”
You are still in your flight attendant outfit; however, you oblige and begin peeling the same clothes Jimin tore off your body earlier. You delight in the way Jimin watches your every move. It’s like he can’t get enough of you. Once you slip out of your panties, fully exposed to him, he pulls you on top of his lap for a kiss.
On his lips, you can still taste the remnants of the red wine he had on the plane. But unlike the rushed kisses in the lavatory, Jimin kisses you passionately now. His tongue dances with your own, and he gently nips at your lips before pushing you onto your back.
Above you, he works a trail down your body; sucking your already hard nipples into his mouth. You let out a shuddering moan when he reaches the sensitive skin above your cunt. He licks the skin there, and then dives into your core.
“A-Ah!” your back arches at the feeling of Jimin’s tongue fucking you.
“Your pussy tastes so fucking sweet, baby girl,” he groans.
Jimin replaces his tongue with one finger, and you’re about to whine at the loss of his mouth when his mouth moves to your clit and doubles the sensation. “Fuck.”
“Just like that, baby,” he coos, inserting another finger. “Are you going to come for me?”
You helplessly nod at his ministrations. He continues to suck on your little nub, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. When he inserts a third finger inside your wetness, it sends you past the point of no return and you cry out your climax.
“Beautiful,” he hums, lapping up your release and you’ve never seen anything hotter. Sitting up, he watches you with a smug grin and starts pumping his hardening cock in front of you. “Get on your side.”
Although your legs already feel like jelly, you do as he says and lay on your side. Jimin moves behind you, and the feeling of your back pressed against his chest sends a shiver down your pack. Gently, Jimin lifts one of your legs over his and slides inside of you.
Just a few hours ago, he was inside of you, but the stretch still feels amazing now. His pace is slow, and he presses chaste kisses along your shoulder. After a few shallow thrusts, he hits you with a particularly hard one and you let out a low moan.
“What do you want me to do?” he whispers into your ear, arm reaching over to fondle your breasts.
“I want you to fuck me, Mr. Park.”
Jimin nips at your ear, “What was that, doll? Couldn’t hear you.”
You repeat you statement louder, and he lets out a satisfied grunt. Jimin’s hips pick up their pace and the forearm holding you up falls at the force of his thrusts. The lewd noises coming out of your mouth are loud and brazen, but the dirty sweet nothings that left Jimin’s lips are enough to make you orgasm a second time—well, fourth if you count the two from earlier today.
“Ohmygod, Jimin.”
“Yes, fuck, doll—you feel so fucking good on my cock.” Clutching the bedsheets through your high, Jimin breathes heavily behind you, “Fuck. Where do you want me to cum, baby girl?”
Even though you just came, you still can’t help the moans that leave your mouth. “Anywhere. I-I don’t c-care.”
“Can I come inside of you?”
The thought of Jimin filling you up with his cum is so fucking hot, you nod and feel him explode inside of you. He leans against your shoulder as he coats your inner walls. When he finally pulls out, you fall back onto your elbows and examine the mess he made.
“Has anyone ever told you that your pussy is a wonderland?” Jimin asks, walking towards you with a wet cloth. You’re about to take it from him to clean yourself, but he ends up doing it for you.
You blush at the action. “Uh…I don’t think so.”
“Well, it is,” he meets your gaze. You feel yourself blush even harder.
Jimin discards the wet cloth and you realize this is the awkward part. At least on the plane, you could just go back to your seat. Here, what are you supposed to do? Getting up from the bed, you slip your panties back on and cringe at how wet they are.
“Where are you going?”
You stop in your tracks. “Leaving?”
Jimin pulls back the covers of the bed and slips inside, beckoning you. “Stay.”
“Don’t you have that huge meeting early tomorrow?”
“So?” he asks, and you slip into bed right beside him—sans clothing. “Besides, I want to fuck you again.”
You roll your eyes as he pulls you closer, “Isn’t twice enough?”
“I think I might be addicted,” he admits, which makes your heart stutter.
You’re about to tell him the same, but you yawn instead. Suddenly, you remember that you’ve been up since four this morning and that you’ve been running on god knows how many shots of espresso.
“Tired?” Jimin takes the words right out of your mouth.
Nodding, you mutter unintelligently. You probably should shower and brush your teeth, but you honestly can’t be bothered since Jimin feels so good beside you. His body is warm and comfortable; before you can say another word to him, you’re already drifting into dreamland.
As you sleep tangled in his arms, Jimin grazes his fingers over your face and thinks about how beautiful you look even like this. He wasn’t lying when he said he might be addicted to you. He only met you today and already had you twice, but the desire to have more of you is insatiable.
You are definitely going to be his ruin.
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marvelsswansong · 5 years ago
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Summary: He’s a sophmore at MIT who has hung up his superhero suit for university. She’s a well known killer with the power to seduce and manipulate anyone she pleases. Of course the universe would make them soulmates.  
Words: 6.1K
Tags: soulmate au (soulmates can’t hurt each other), forbidden love (kinda), college!Peter, femmefatale!reader. Violence, heavy sexual themes, proceed with caution.
a/n: REPOST since first one didn’t show up in tags :( sorry to those who already read this 4 hours ago 
-----------------------------------
Massachusetts, USA
Quickly shoving his crinkled notes into his bag, Peter was the first person to be out of the classroom the moment Theoretical Physics was done and over with. Reaching for the zipper as he made his way out the marbled doors, he paused at the sight of the crumpled red and black fabric in his bag.
He didn’t know why he still carried his spiderman suit with him, considering the vow he’d made to pack it away along with his hero life the moment he arrived at MIT. But the lingering sense of danger and doubt never left him so he could never quite part with it, so he always kept the suit and extra shooters in a concealed compartment in his backpack.
He never knew when he’d need it, he reasoned.
Crossing the large green lawn, he breathed in the earthy air, staring up at the clear blue sky. Fall was starting to roll into the state of Massachusetts, the trees lining the sidewalk were orange and red, and the lawn of daffodils under the library building had begun to bloom. He greeted a group of people he recognized from his engineering class as he crossed over to the south-side of the campus, passing by a row of cluttered dorms. He checked his wristwatch- the one May had gifted him before he left for university- still 10 minutes left until class started.
He slipped into the empty classroom and sat on the first row of chairs when his cellphone started ringing. Peter frowned, his mind failing to think of who would need to speak to him during school hours. He unlocked it to see Tony’s name appear on the screen, a sight only reserved for emergencies.
“We’ll only call you if we can’t do it without you.” his mentor had said, the day before Peter had left for MIT.
“Hello?” Peter answered quietly, as a few students began to fill into the room.
“How quickly can you come to Santorini?”
Tony sounded exhausted on the other side of the phone. Peter nervously chewed on his lip, not liking where this conversation was going.
“With all due respect, Mr.Stark, I can’t just drop everything right now and fly to Greece. I have-”
“Nuclear Science and Engineering right now, I know. I also know you have finals in a month but that’s nothing I can’t call in a favour for. I happen to be good friends with the Dean and the Provost of MIT.”
More people began filling the room as the professor walked in, forcing Peter to cover his phone with his hand and whisper, turning away from the crowd.
“I get that, but, I’m taking a break from the whole hero business. I want to focus on university and having a life without risking it every few days,  you know?”
“And I agree that you should have all those things. Come on, Peter. I haven’t called you for a mission for the first year and a half of your university. I meant what I said when I told you we’d only call you if we literally couldn’t do it without you. I’m begging you, kid.”
Peter could imagine Tony pinching the bridge of his nose, pacing around the room in frustration while trying to convince Peter. He was reluctant, but the desperation in Tony’s voice didn’t go unnoticed and his hands were moving faster than his brain. Packing his things back up, he quietly exited the classroom and sighed into the phone.
“Okay, I’ll come.”
“Great. Don’t worry about your classes or your exams, I’ll make sure it’s handled. Pack enough for two weeks. I’m sending you a private jet to your nearest airport in two hours. See you then.”
-----------------------------------
Santorini, Greece
Peter felt like he was melting under the hot Grecian sun, the sticky humid air mixing with the ocean breeze blowing in from the southwest. He adjusted his sunglasses, the sweat causing it to slide down the bridge of his nose repeatedly, his skin smelling of an odd combination of aftershave and sunscreen. It felt strange, to say the least, to go from spending months in grey sweatpants and thick burgundy hoodies in the freezing cold weather of Cambridge to now being dressed down in a red Hawaii shirt and grey khakis in the sunny island of Santorini.
“You okay, Peter?” Steve called out from behind him, wearing a not so obvious disguise of a baseball cap paired with white rimmed sunglasses. That said, they needed to ‘blend in’, as Tony put in, and Peter had to admit- among the crowds, they just looked like a group of innocent American tourists. And not a band of superheroes, trying to catch a super-villain in her acts.
“I’m fine, just… thirsty.”  he replied, swallowing thickly.
“I’ll get you some water.”
Steve told Peter to stay put and disappeared into a nearby path lined with shops, leaving the young boy in the middle of the cobblestone street. The rest of the team were scattered across the island in an attempt to catch her, an infamous killer with no name, no trace. Just a pretty face and a signature carving of a heart on her victim’s bodies. He’d gotten the information dump on the plane ride here, in which Maria drilled the information into his head.
“This is all the information we’ve gathered on her so far.” her tone was somber as she flicked over a thin manila folder to him, which he opened with a flick of his thumb before holding up the piece of paper.
“It’s one page.”
She bit her lip, frustrated.
“We’ve been unsuccessful in gathering much information about her. What we have on her is ambiguous at best, except a few things: she’s about 20, she’s a master seductress, able to seduce anyone into carrying out her commands. She kills her prey and carves a heart onto their bodies. And the only way to avoid her powers is to avoid looking into her eyes.”
“Is there even a photo of what she looks like?” he questioned, his curiosity piqued.
“A few we’ve managed to piece together from some security cameras.”
She tossed him a few pictures onto his lap, each varying in quality. From the set, however, he could make out that she had (h/c) hair, a light/dark/middle skin-tone, and  was of a short/regular/tall stature. It looked like she was wearing a sparkly silver dress in the first photo, which was taken on the side of a street in Milan, then a pink checkered tank top and matching skirt in the second one, taken in Paris, and an over-sized black hoodie with black heels on a bridge in London.
The photos were either too dark or taken too far away to really catch her face, but just by looking at these photos he could tell- she was beautiful. Stunning, even. Even without powers he was sure she could seduce anyone she liked.
“Thing is, she always gets away right before we can catch her. SHIELD has been onto her for a while but no matter who we send, no matter how discreet, low level or which gender… they end up dead or return back dazed with no memory of what happened.”
Peter raised his eyebrow.
“Is that a part of it?”
Maria sighed..
“Depends. Sometimes she doesn’t kill the people she uses her powers on and the victims just end of having a dazed, hazy feeling for a few hours. They then have a hard time remembering what exactly happened, making our job infinitely harder.”
An uneasy silence filled the air, as Peter shifted in his seat. This sounded like the hardest mission yet.
“So why am I needed?”
“Your supernatural senses allow you to sense any immediate danger or harm nearby you, regardless of sight, right? So we’re hoping that you’re able to fight and capture her without ever being under her influence, by closing your eyes and relying on your ‘spidey senses’ instead. Do you still have your web shooters on you?”
He nodded.
“If you find her, web her to her surroundings, turn around so you’re not looking into her eyes, then call us over. She can’t influence all of us at once, so that’d give us an advantage and plenty of time to sedate her and bring her over.”
The web shooter concealed underneath his wrist watch was starting to itch, breaking the somewhat vacational bliss he was feeling from sitting on the edge of the white wall and watching the waves go by. Checking the time with a flick of his wrist, it dawned on him that Steve had disappeared to get him some water for a bit too long. Fifteen minutes to be exact.
What was going on?
He slipped into the alleyway where Steve disappeared, wandering straightforward rather aimlessly until he caught sight of the familiar blonde hair a few feet away. Except, his back was turned towards Peter as he lounged on a chair on the outskirts of a cafe, and he was talking to someone he didn’t recognize. Adrenaline kicked in, forcing Peter to duck behind a nearby corner before his eyes fell on the woman Steve was talking to.
It was her.
The woman in the photos.
And fuck, you were stunning. You weren’t wearing anything particularly fancy, just a white lacy sundress and pink pastel flats, but every crevice of the fabric clung to your skin glowing in the caramel sunlight, making the modest piece somehow sensual and teasing. Sitting with one leg crossed over the other he felt as if you were teasing any wandering gaze to land upon your skin, calling out with the same lull as a siren’s. Your lips were painted glossy pink and Peter realized that your eyes were glowing the same shade, a glittery candy floss pink that reflected in Steve’s previously blue orbs.
“So what brings you here, soldier?” you questioned, toying with the soldier.
Your voice dripped like sweet honey and wrapped around your surroundings like a vice.
“On a mission to bring you in.” Peter noted that Steve’s voice was suddenly robotic and eerily not like him.
You pursed your lips, crossing your arms.
“So SHIELD is still after me, huh? You know, even HYDRA was less insisting.”
Wrapping your hand around Steve’s arm, you brought him closer towards you as you felt the cold steel surface of your knife shift underneath your dress, the blade itching to dig into fresh skin.
“I should kill you, you know. You and the Avengers just keep on coming after me and I’m getting tired of playing around…” you drawled, quiet for no one else to hear you except for Peter with his superhero senses.
Peter could feel his heart pound in his chest, as Steve stood motionless while you took out the large sharp blade and started trailing it down Steve’s leg, hidden from plain sight, with not enough pressure to break the skin just yet. Peter quickly took out his phone and alerted Tony of his current location,  as you paid for the meal and led Steve towards a dark alleyway, surely to dispose of the super soldier.
Tony’s reply was immediate.
‘Got it. Stay put. Don’t interfere unless you have to.’
Crouching back down, Peter quickly took off his backpack and changed into his suit, before slowly trailing behind you.
The flat side of the blade was now underneath Steve’s throat, right where it could slice through the jugular veins and kill him. His pink hooded eyes were still looking at you as you smiled, leaning in and leaving a soft kiss on his lips.
“Sad… you were one of my favorites.”  
You raised your blade in the air, ready to slash his throat, when a flash of white passed by and knocked the blade out of your hand. Peter quickly ran out, one hand over his eyes and the other outstretched to pull Steve backwards and out of harm’s way.
“S-stay back.” he muttered, the lack of vision plus the adrenaline adding to his anxiety. Your eyes widened upon seeing the red and black hero standing in front of you, in Greece, of all places.
This was certainly an interesting development.
“Now why would I do that?” you asked, pulling a gun out of your thigh holster and aiming it towards him.
“Because the rest are coming.” he replied, thankful that is voice was no longer shaking.
Your eyes widened at the response before you pouted, trailing your bottom lip dangerously with your tongue.
“In that case… Captain-”
Steve stood right up straight at the sound of your voice, pushing Peter backwards.
“Take him out for me, would you?”
And before Peter could do or say anything, Steve swung his fist in his direction, forcing Peter to open his eyes and jump back. By the time he looked at where you were standing before you were gone, the realization sticking in his mind for a brief moment before Steve tried to knock him back down again.
-----------------------------------
Tokyo, Japan
A few days after the disaster in Santorini (Steve still wouldn’t look him in the eye after he snapped out of his violent trance three hours later when the effect wore off), the team had gotten word that she was spotted out and about in Japan. And that led Peter here, standing in the middle of a busy street crossing, surrounded by big flashing billboards and tall glass skyscrapers. He adjusted his light rimmed glasses- they had a tiny microscopic camera attached to the lens that could record everything- as he shoved through the busy crowd, the address written in the note inside his coat pocket replaying in his head.
After a few unsuccessful conversations with locals who were passing by, he was lucky enough to run into someone who spoke moderate English. She gave him an odd look when he handed over the piece of paper and she typed in the address onto her phone, but nonetheless pointed him in the right direction. He thanked her before walking east, the loud noise of scurrying feet and the whirring of cars driving by blocking his thoughts.
“Peter? Can you hear me?” Tony’s voice rang out through his earpiece, causing Peter to discreetly adjust it. After the not so successful attempt last time to capture her, the team had advised a new plan- Peter would go in alone without his suit but with just his web shooters, pretending to be just another patron at the club, and talk to her discreetly before trapping her with his web before the others could take her in.
He was just lucky his face was concealed the first time they met.
“Yes. I’m almost at the address you gave me. It’s a club, right?”
There was a momentary pause.
“Yeah, it’s a club. Point is, be careful. We’ll be watching your every move and we can hear everything that’s going on, so don’t worry.”
“I’ll be cautious.”
The building that matched the address was a modestly sized glass building with steel doors and a menacing looking bodyguard outside, who asked him for his ID in perfect English. After giving the man his school ID he was let inside where a skimpily clad woman asked him for his coat, the little blue bikini number leaving little to the imagination. His face felt hot and his throat tightened when he hastily took off his coat and gave it away to the woman, as the realization settled in.
He wasn’t in just any club.
He was in a stripclub.
Swallowing his embarrassment the best he could, he quietly went through the next set of glass doors, which led out to a dim hallway lit up by bright pink LED lights. A slew of men and a couple of women sat around the bar and near the light up stages, where several girls in tight dresses twirled around the pole set to a sensual song. It was hard to make out the faces under the dim blue lighting, so he opted to blend in by walking to the bar in the middle and ordering a drink. He tried to look anywhere but where the scantily clad women were and stared at a nearby TV screen instead, when a familiar voice interrupted his train of thought.
“Strawberry Daiquiri, please.”
You were facing straight forward, thus allowing Peter to catch a quick glance at you. You sensed a set of eyes on your figure and looked back, only to see Peter blushing and looking down at his lap to avert his gaze. Sliding over a few seats, you leaned against the bar table, the slit on your mini skirt exposing your upper thigh.
“It’s rude to stare, you know.” you commented slyly, drinking in the sight of him. He was younger than most of your prey- you preferred to go for men who were older than you- but he looked just as good as the others. Tousled brown curls, defined muscles flexing underneath his white polo shirt, a shy demeanor… He was adorable.
“S-sorry.” he murmured, still not looking into your eyes. You figured he was nervous and chuckled, taking a slow slip of your sugary drink.
“It’s alright… you’re not a part of this usual crowd, are you?”
“Good. Keep on talking to her to distract her. We’re on our way.” Tony spoke in Peter’s ear. He regained his confidence to look up for a brief moment to snatch his drink off the table, the strong taste of whiskey burning his throat.
“What makes you say that?” he asked quietly, swirling his drink with his straw. You leaned closer, the sweet draft of your vanilla and honeycomb lotion drifting over him as you smirked.
“Well, for starters, you’re not looking at any of the strippers here. And two, you’re not even looking at me.”
He needed an excuse, so he blurted out the first thing that came into his mind.
“Sorry, I just, uh, I have a hard time looking at pretty girls.”
You were caught off guard by that comment, and it showed for a brief moment on your face. You were used to men calling you a slew of names, but calling you pretty? In such a sincere way? While blushing? This was new. A new urge surged through your veins as you placed your hand on his lap, rubbing his thigh.
“Then what’d you say we go somewhere more private? Like the VIP Lounge? You can look at me all you want then.”
He nodded shyly and allowed you to drag him to the back area of the club, where you slipped a security guard five hundred dollars to let you pass the velvet rope with him behind you. There was no one else in sight, just the two of them and the soft cushiony sofa lining the walls. His throat felt dry as you pushed him down onto the seat, your body straddling his as you climbed onto his lap.
“So-”
A sharp ringing noise cried out in his ear, causing Peter to yelp in pain and rip out the earpiece in reflex. You quickly put two and two together before ripping off his glasses and grabbing his chin to force him to look at you, the brief moment of shock and confusion on his face enough time for you to put him under your trance. The tension left his body as his eyes turned pastel pink, allowing you to crawl off his lap and crush the earpiece under your heels. You did the same to the glasses, just for good measure, before taking out the wallet from his jeans.
You examined the cards inside, starting with the ID cards. Name: Peter Parker. Sophomore at MIT. A Stark Tower entry pass?
You scowled, tossing the wallet to the side. That probably meant they were on their way right now. Taking out a four inch blade from your bra, you decided you needed to send them a message. Pushing his head to the side, you were ready to slice his throat, the tip of your blade against his skin, and-
Nothing.
Your hand stayed frozen mid-air, your brain screaming at your body to carry on with the action but your body remained frozen. Bringing your hand back down, you tried again, this time a stab to the heart. But you physically couldn’t harm him, no matter the angle at which you tried.
“Fuck.”
Letting out a shaky breath, you dropped the blade in horror and stepped backwards, the realization settling in your gut. If you couldn’t kill him, that meant…
The thought horrified you to no end, the kind of immediate horror that made you want to throw up onto the floor, the previously loud pounding of the music drowned to the background as the walls began to close in on you. Blinking away your tears, you commanded Peter to stay sitting in his room before grabbing your coat and exiting the room, being able to find a nearby window that you could jump down from. Your feet met the ground as you wrapped the coat closer to your body, your heels clicked against the pavement as you quickly hired a cab back to your mansion.
This was bad.
So, so bad.
-----------------------------------
New York, USA
When Peter awoke from his trance he was lying down on a soft bed with a weighted blanket in what seemed like the hospital wing of Stark Tower, with streaks of sunlight streaming in through the gaps in the window. His memory felt foggy, the last thing he remembered was being terrified when the earpiece malfunctioned and your eyes turned bright pink with anger. His thoughts were interrupted when Bruce walked into the room, a soft smile on his face.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, handing over a glass of water. Peter accepted it, muttering a quiet thank you.
“Strange… What happened?”
The doctor sighed, biting his lower lip.
“We’re not sure. She crushed the glasses we gave you right after she found out you had an earpiece in, but when we entered the room, you were left unharmed, just sitting on the sofa.”
“Unharmed? I thought she liked to kill all her prey. Or at the very least, hurt them in some way.”
Bruce nodded, scribbling something onto his notepad.
“That’s the thing. We have no clue why you were the odd exception. Director Fury has been wracking his brain for the past seven hours trying to figure out why she spared you.”
A momentary silence passed by, as Peter looked up at the man with an unsure gaze.
“What now?” he asked, the thoughts of MIT and returning to Cambridge still in his mind.
“We’re going to try to monitor her route for a little longer and devise a new plan. I know Tony said you only needed two weeks off but Fury insists that you’re the key to capturing her and wants you to stay on for at least another week.”
Peter sighed, giving in.
“I guess that’s fine. I mean, what choice do I really have?”
-----------------------------------
Milan, Italy
It’d been a solid week since you last killed a man.
A whole seven days.
You were sure the Avengers were noticing your absence, trying to understand just why you’d spared one of their precious heroes and then went dark for a whole week afterwards. Just thinking back on that night made your stomach turn, the way adrenaline pumped through your veins as you were prepared to kill your soulmate.
For the first time in a while, you were disgusted with yourself. You had almost killed your soulmate, and in another universe where you could harm him, he would’ve been dead at your hands. It was getting harder and harder to remember why you’d started this life as you lounged in a private pool in Milan, the mansion overlooking a dark green forest.
It was in a dimly lit facility, a few hundred miles from here, that had turned you into this force of nature. Having lost your parents to a car accident at a young age, you were starved and anxious for any sort of money when you overheard that a scientist was offering hundreds of thousands of dollars to a woman who was willing to be his test subject. He was seductive, older, and richer. You fell for his promises and signed your life away at the age of 15.
Five months of torture later, you awoke to see that your eyes were glowing pink. When you made eye contact with a security guard nearby he wordlessly opened the prison door for you, and shot the scientist who experimented on you right on the spot. Grabbing the keys from the man’s lab coat, you pulled out the file filled with the names of the investors from all over the world who’d donated to help this man corrupt and abuse you.
And apparently, you weren’t his first test subject.
You grabbed his wallet on the way out and hopped into a car parked on the sidewalk of a gas station, and never looked back since then. You were young and scared, but hungry for revenge. You’d make sure those men would pay, and any other man who would try to take advantage of young girls, for that matter.
Killing was the only option.
Perhaps you’d lost your morality along the way, you reasoned. If you had any, in the first place. What started out as a semi-respectable revenge killing spree had somehow morphed into an exhilarating repeated cycle of seduction, murder and money. A disgusting sensation was settling in- perhaps guilt- as you huffed and threw away your sunglasses to the side.
No, you were doing the right thing. You knew the things that the Avengers believed above you- dangerous, homicidal, killer of innocent men. You laughed at that notion- as if most of your victims weren’t assholes in some ways, or didn’t treat you like an animal to be hunted down and ravaged. Sharpening your knife on the kitchen counter, you breathed in and out slowly, calming yourself down. This whole soulmate business was really messing with your head.
You needed a fresh new kill to settle your mind.
-----------------------------------
London, UK
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Tony asked Peter for what felt like the thousandth time of that night, anxiety gnawing in his gut. In reality, there wasn’t much left to be discussed- Fury had insisted Peter stay on this project till the moment of your capture, even though at this point Tony had had enough of keeping Peter away from his education and was actually fighting for Peter’s right to return to university. But Peter felt a sort of curiosity and a pull to you that he couldn’t explain, so he found himself insisting on going on this mission.
They’d been able to finally find a link amongst the men you would target- well, at least a somewhat common link. A large majority of them happened to be investors in an Italian company that specialized in biochemical engineering, and it so happened that a handful of them were meeting in an exclusive rooftop party in London- making the chances of your appearance higher than ever.
“Remember, this time, don’t even hesitate. The moment you see her, shoot the tranquilizer in her direction so we can subdue her.” Steve repeated, handing over the tranquilizer gun to him. Peter nodded, slipping it into the waistband of his pants so that it wouldn’t be noticeable to anyone nearby. “The rest of us will be in disguise around the party, right by your side, just in case anything goes wrong.”
“Sounds good.”
It was hard to keep the nerves off of his voice, when he himself felt on edge about the whole thing. There’d been countless of times, even before he was called in, when they were so close to capturing you. But you’d always managed to slip past their fingers at a moment’s notice, disappearing without a trance before popping up with a new victim on the other side of the world.
The party was in full swing when Peter strolled in, and his eyes immediately began to search for a woman of your stature. Gently pushing through the crowd of drunk dancers, he passed by the champagne bar when he saw someone who looked a lot like you from the back sitting by the balcony, chatting with another woman whom he did not recognize. Knowing it was too early to strike, Peter treated himself to a glass of wine, keeping one eye on you at all times. When the other woman got up to use the bathroom, Peter took out his gun from his waistband and positioned it perfectly, his finger on the trigger-
He couldn’t shoot.
He swore, checking to make sure the gun was fully loaded before trying again, but nothing.
Frustrated, he placed the glass aggressively on a nearby table and marched out onto the balcony, the gun still aimed at you. But no matter the mental gymnastics he put himself through, he just couldn’t fucking shoot.
“Peter?”
Your voice wrapped around him, soft and sweet, as Peter edged forward, the gun in his hand beginning to shake with all the effort he was putting into shooting. Then in his adrenaline clouded mind it finally clicked- the longing, the pull, the inability to harm you…
“Y-you’re my soulmate.” he stuttered, the last word hanging in the air. You looked away, not wanting to meet his eyes, as he stood motionless in his spot. He should be alerting the rest of the group. He should, at the very least, be tugging you into the party to be captured. But he can’t move, his feet stuck to the floor as the weight of gravity on his back seems to increase. He’s speechless as you lowly speak, your eyes fixated on the floor.
“Listen… you can’t hurt me, I can’t hurt you. Just let me go.”
“I can’t do that.” he says firmly, his consciousness slowly starting to seep back in.
She’s beautiful, he thinks, as she crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him, her doe eyes wet from the salty tears beginning to form.
“Why not? It’s not like we can even be together.”
He slowly walks over and places his hands on you, expecting you to push him away. But you don’t, gaze still on the floor and unmoving. He doesn’t quite know what to say, the emotions overwhelming but the words not able to move past his tongue.
“Are you here with the other Avengers?”
He nods, swallowing thickly.
“Then I should get going.” you respond, starting to pull up the hems of your dress. But he stops you, grabbing you wrist, and stopping you mid-way.
“W-wait. Don’t go.”
You laugh halfheartedly.
“Then go where?”
He waits for a moment, but then he drops the question.
“Do you trust me?” he decides to ask, pulling your chin upwards. “Please don’t use your powers on me, just tell me. Do you trust me?”
There’s a slight hesitation on your end but you nod.
“Then come with me to New York.”
That elicits a violent reaction from you as you push him off, your eyes wide with anger and shock.
“Are you fucking serious? You want me to turn myself in?” you yell, not caring about who hears you. He clenches his jaw at your response.
“All I’m saying is I want my soulmate to be with me, and safe.”
You let out a bitter laugh at that statement.
“With you? Peter, you don’t even know my real name. You don’t even know me, as a person. You’re an MIT educated superhero. I’m wanted in 72 countries and have killed men in the triple digits. Do you really think I’d be welcomed with open arms?”
His eyes darken at the mention of your death as he clenches his fist, his gaze unnerving.
“I won’t let them harm you.”
His stubbornness is infuriating.
“That’s the thing, Parker! You don’t get to decide whether or not I get harmed.”
“Why won’t you just trust me?” his tone is low but still soft as he marches towards you and grabs your wrist. You try to pull away but can’t, the sudden strength catching you off guard.
“Because apparently, you don’t care about me enough to see that it’s a fucking death sentence if I go back with you to New York-”
Your rant is cut off with a swift kiss to your lips, you can taste the underlying tones of his half-drunken cherry wine and your peach lipgloss mixing together. His teeth tug at your bottom lip as his hand grips your waist, shoving you against the marble column overlooking the balcony. All the anger and fear that’s been running through your mind the past few hours melts away and you swear he’s putting a trance on you, and not the other way around. When he finally pulls back, his gaze is determined and his lips are swollen, his calloused hand rubbing up against your soft skin.
“You’re wrong. I care. I care so fucking much about you that I don’t want you to run anymore. Aren’t you tired, angel? Of running. Of never being able to make allies. Of always being alone, never being able to settle down?”
You’re silent as he sighs, wishing he could read your mind.
“Angel-”
“(Y/n). My name is (Y/n).”
He softens at the mention of your name.
“(Y/n)... please, come with me.”
There’s a million different things you want to say, but all you can think about is that he smells like fresh laundry and lavender, and his skin is right against yours. You want to say yes.
“I need a night to think about it.” you mutter. To your surprise (and somewhat dismay) he wholeheartedly agrees, and pleads with you to allow him to follow you back to your house to spend the night. You can’t find the way to say “no” when he’s looking at you like that, the type of gaze that has you slammed against the wall of your bedroom an hour later with his jacket and cellphone tossed hazardously in the corner of your room.
“Is this okay?” he’s asking as he’s already pinning you down onto the mattress, layers being shedded faster than he’s speaking. You nod, bringing him back down for another kiss.
“One night to think about it, yeah?” he whispers against your lips, and the guilt starts settling in. But it’s replaced by a fire when his hands start wandering lower and you nod.
“Right. One night.”
Any sort of remorse or doubt you have dissipates into thin air, lost in ecstasy.
.
“Peter.”
After disabling his tracker and disappearing from any communications with the team for a whole 24 hours, Peter suddenly shows up back at Stark Tower, his eyes glazed over in a sickly pink hue as he stares down at Tony.  It takes Sam dousing a cold bucket of water over Peter’s head to get him to snap out of his trance, his irises returning to their original hazel colour as he stands up straight, caught off guard by the sudden cold.
“Peter, you okay? Where were you?” Steve interrogates, concerned.
“I…” he tries to tell them, but his memory is a pleasant blank. He remembers arriving to the party and having a drink, but that’s about it.
“Did she hurt you?” Bruce asks, gently examining Peter’s head for any injuries.
“Who?”
They all look at him as if he’s crazy.
“You know? The killer? The one who seduces men with her eyes, the same person we’ve been trying to catch the past three weeks?”
Peter’s confusion just doubles and this elicits a quiet argument between the group, but one that Peter can’t force himself to listen to as he feels a strange sensation in his chest. There’s an odd ache in his chest that he can’t quite place, a type of dread that’s similar to the feeling of forgetting something important, but he can’t remember why. He shifts uncomfortably in his place before licking his lips as a reflex, tasting the remnants of last night.
His lips tasted sweet. Frowning, he dabs his lips with his finger, feeling the sticky residue.
Huh.
There’s something missing but he can’t find it in his mind, no matter how hard he’s forcing himself to think back.
All he tastes is peaches.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
a/n: :( :( I KNOW I KNOW the ending isn’t happy but to me it felt like the best way to end it. Please take a few seconds to like/reblog/comment/inbox me if you enjoyed it! It’ll mean so much to me.
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watchtower-feed · 5 years ago
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Detective
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Anon: after your last imagine I can't shake college Damian off my mind, can I request one about him and his s/o in college? I don't really have an specific idea but something like walking them to class, studying together, getting each other coffee and just overall taking care of each other. Notes: I didn’t get to cover everything in the request because there are too many scenes and I didn’t wanna turn this into a bullet point fic. Hope you like it though! Words: 2,774
     “No.”
     The girl that approached the table looked forlorn and her friends slowly helped her walk away.
     “Ugh,” Will groans. He’s one of Damian Wayne’s friends and their varsity is currently doing charity work for Gotham Academy. Will took a brilliant idea from the internet where they set up a table offering people to walk them around campus if they feel bullied or generally unsafe.
     “You can’t keep saying no to people, Wayne. That’s not how the charity works.”
     Damian clicked his tongue. “I know exactly how this works, and those girls did not need assistance.”
     “Yeah. In the bedroom, they did,” Mike laughs and tries to fistbump Will who just stares at him until he puts his hands down.
     Damian’s attention is already taken by you. He kicks back his seat to leave.
     “Where are you going now?” Will whines.
     “Helping someone who actually needs it.”
     You’re walking to your next class while looking over your shoulder every now and then. To Damian, they’re simple signals of someone who feels like they’re being followed. So he stands right in front of your path in the middle of the quad where there is a multitude of people around. You almost bump into him but he quickly takes a step back to give you your space. 
     You know him. Everybody on campus knows him. He’s the greatest player the football team has ever had. Too bad he left halfway through his first semester and joined the swim team instead.
     Damian is staring down at you from being almost a foot taller. Then something catches his eye and he looks at someone behind you who quickly hides behind a statue.
     You see a small snarl on the corners of his lips before he starts taking steps around you. You stop him immediately.
     “You can’t--”
     “Why not?” Damian quickly asks.
     “If you-- if you get in a fight again, they’ll kick you off the team.” 
     Damian raises his eyebrows in thought, “That doesn’t sound like much of a loss to me.”
     “Please don’t.” You grip his arm tighter.
     He stares at you, “Why haven’t you reported him?”
     “He-- he hasn’t done anything. He’s smart. He keeps his distance and no one has actually noticed him following me around.”
     “I did.”
     And you want to thank him for that. This whole semester has been a nightmare for you. It started with your survival instincts kicking in, always warning you that you’re in danger. Your gut has never failed you so you listened. But this stalker is so good that he’s hidden himself well from all of your friends. Friends you’ve lost because they deemed you too paranoid and anxious.
     “Come on.” Damian’s voice saves you from your thoughts. “I’ll walk you to your class. Spanish, right?”
     You’re stunned, “How-- how do you know that?”
     He rolls his eyes and then points at your books. “It’s the one on top of your pile. Lucky guess.”
     You suddenly feel assured and laugh a little. “You’re quite the detective.”
     His eyes widen at the comment and he slowly turns back to you. “You have no idea.”
     Damian walks you right up to the door of your classroom. As soon as you thank him, he leaves and heads for his own class. When it’s time for lunch, you’re surprised to find him standing against the wall outside of the room.
     “You’re here.”
     “Do you have another class?” he asks you while his eyes roam the hallways.
     “No, I’m about to have lunch.”
     “Okay. Let’s go.” Without giving you time to respond, he starts walking to the cafeteria and you try to keep up with his strides. 
     So far nobody has paid attention to the two of you. But when Damian carries both of your trays to your table, the staring and the whispers start. There are even some flashes from cameras that almost blind you.
     “Sorry,” he mutters under his breath while concentrating on his food.
     You shake your head as you watch the lines on his brows and the irritation on his face. “It must be hard being a Wayne,” you say.
     He grins at the thought of what it’s like to be a real Wayne beyond what the gossip columns say. “I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s all this stupid attention that I hate.”
     “That’s probably why you don’t date, huh?” Damian looks up and stares at you with a raised eyebrow. You quickly wave your hands, “It’s just that-- my friend-- well my old friend-- she asked you out once and you said you’re not interested. We teased her that maybe you’re just not interested in her but--”
     A sudden flash hits the side of your cheeks and Damian is quickly leaving his seat and marching over to another table, the table where your stalker is sitting with a camera pointed at you. You wince at the sight of it. 
     Damian grabs the man’s camera still strapped around his neck. “What? Did you think you could hide your flash among these paparazzi wannabes?” Before he could say anything, Damian takes off the camera and starts flipping through the pictures. 
     “Hey, man! That’s mine!”
     Damian scoffs. “Really? That’s good then. You can get it back from the cops.” Damian turns the camera around and shows the stalker a picture of you in the girl’s shower. His eyes widen and quickly tries to run but Damian grabs him by the collar and slams the side of his head against the table.
     You watch all of this go down from your table. People’s murmurs are louder, trying to figure out what’s going on. When word reaches you that Damian is calling the cops, you feel a new kind of relief wash over you. Suddenly, your shoulders felt lighter and it’s easier to stand up straight.
     Damian stays with you the whole time. Whenever the officers and the stalker’s voices got too loud, your voice would falter and Damian would speak for you, authoritatively holding everyone’s attention. 
     Once the stalker was detained and all evidence tagged, you and Damian walk back to campus.
     “You seem… happy.”
     You didn’t even notice you’re smiling until you touch the upturned corners of your lips. “I feel kind of free… like a bird.”
     Damian snorts to himself, “Yeah.” 
     You mull something in your head and speak your thoughts out loud, “You planned that, didn’t you?” Damian stops walking and he’s looking at you when you turn around. “You knew he wasn’t just following me, and that he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity you created.”
     Damian’s brows furrowed, “I apologize for using you as bait--”
     “No!” you interrupt and hold his hands, “I was just thinking that it’s ingenious. Forget being a detective, you’re almost as good as Batman.”
     Damian smirks. You suddenly see a whole new side of him probably no one on campus has ever seen. A playful one. “Just almost?”
     When you reach the dorms, Damian walks you right up to your door. He takes a quick look inside to make sure you’re roommate is already there. Before you let him leave, thinking this will probably be the last time you’ll be together again, you gather up the courage to hold his arm, stand on your toes, and kiss him on the lips. “Thanks. For everything.”
     Damian gives you a look before he nods and leaves. You watch a small shade of red reach the tips of his ears as you cover your own blush.
     The next day, Damian Wayne is back at the table with his varsity friends. You walk by and only mean to wave at him before your next class. But as soon as he saw you, he shrugs off Mike’s arm from his shoulder and gets up to leave.
     “Dude, no. You’re bailing again?” Will whines.
     “You have more than enough people here. Just message me.”
     Will slumps down in his seat and crosses his arms, “Yeah right. It’s not like any of us has your number.”
     “They don’t look too happy about you leaving,” you tease as he approaches you.
     He shrugs nonchalantly, “They’ll live.” He gives you a long look before he raises an eyebrow in curiosity, “You seem happier today.” You quickly blush and immediately think of the kiss from last night. “You’re thinking about the kiss, aren’t you?”
     You stare at Damian with wide eyes. You wonder if he’s either a real detective or you’re just too obvious. You laugh, “You, too. I mean you’re actually teasing me. Where is the always-reserved Damian Wayne of Gotham Academy and what have you done to him?”
     He smirks and points ahead to the direction of your next classroom, World History. You look down at the top book in your pile and roll your eyes. Definitely the detective. Definitely obvious.
     After class, there’s no Damian standing outside waiting for you. You try not to feel the tiny pang in your chest and walk to your Figure Drawing class. As soon as you walk in, you come face to face with a very naked Damian Wayne.
     When Damian returned to the varsity table, Will had given him punishment for bailing twice in a row and volunteered him to be the model for a class. Damian has absolutely no problems with appearing naked in front of anybody. To him, this was just a chore he had to do to live up to his civilian identity.
     But as soon as he sees you walk in through the door and your eyes roam from his head all the way down to his toes, he grits his teeth. “I’ll kill him.”
     “Y/N, please. You’re already late. Take your seat.”
     Your lecturer’s voice jolts you back to your senses and you quickly take a seat on the far side of the room. It’s one of the most grueling classes you’ve been in since you got to the academy. Damian avoided your eyes the whole time.
     “Y/N, wait for me.”
     Damian calls out while he put on his clothes. You’re already standing by the door and a lot of people had stayed to continue to watch him. When they heard him call out to you, they instantly turn and glare.
     As soon as he reaches you, he puts his arm around your shoulder and you walk out together. You can feel the heavy weight of his arm rest on top of you.
     “Do you have another class?” he asks. You shake your head, still unable to speak to him because you keep seeing him naked inside your head. “Good. Let’s have lunch in the city.”
     Damian takes you to a small diner hidden in a corner between the business district and the Narrows. The lunch rush is already over and you find yourselves in a corner booth.
     “Wow,” you say. “I never expected you to eat at a place like this. You’re more down-to-Earth than I thought.”
     “As opposed to what?”
     “Oh, I don’t know. Being a rich kid? Everything handed to you on a silver platter?”
     “Trust me, Y/N. Nothing was ever handed to me. Everything I have-- everything I am, I worked for.”
     You prop your elbow on the table as you look at the once menacing Damian Wayne. The past two days, you’ve spent with him have completely changed your opinion about him and a little of the ancient Wayne family.
     Speaking of.
     “My family’s here,” Damian mutters as he scoots over until he’s sitting next to you, freeing up his side of the booth. A group of four walks into the diner and start heading for your booth. “Damian!”
     “Good morning, Grayson. Cain.” 
     Two of the four, nod their heads at you. While the shortest boy, who is still taller than you, crosses his arms. “Rude. What about us?”
     Damian doesn’t pay him any attention. You watch as they enter the booth in a single file. 
     “Late night?” Damian asks.
     The one he called Grayson gives a long sigh as he sits next to Damian. “You have no idea. Would’ve been faster if Rob-- Ow!” The tallest of the three elbows him and nudges his head toward you. “Oh, hello there.”
     “Are you on a date?” asks the girl he called Cain, smiling.
     “Yes.”
     “We are?” you ask right away. You tried to keep your voice low but from the way their eyes widen, you know they heard you.
     They look at each other and smirk. “Looks like you forgot to inform your date,” teases the tallest one.
     Damian smirks to himself before replying. “Y/N can’t think straight at the moment. Still a little flustered after seeing me naked.”
     Damian pulls you closer to him to avoid the spray of water from one of his siblings. “We really shouldn’t be letting you loose into society without a harness, Drake.” 
     “It was for figure drawing class,” you chuckle to break the tension, and try to appease their wide eyes with your waving hands. “I’m Y/N by the way. I go to GA, too.”
     “I’m Dick,” one of his siblings reaches around Damian to shake your hand. “These are Cass, Jason, and Tim. We’re Damian’s siblings--”
     “Adopted.”
     Jason looms over the table and grabs Damian’s head to harshly rub his knuckles into his hair. “You don’t have to say that every time, demon.”
     “Todd-- Stop it--”
     Dick tries to pry them apart but ultimately fails and accidentally gets punched by one of Damian’s flailing limbs, making Jason laugh. “You may have gotten bigger, but you’re still a runt!”
     “Not-- as much-- as Drake--”
     Tim, who’s sitting at the outer edge of the booth across from you, apologizes for his brothers with a sigh. “I wish I could tell you that we’re not always like this.”
     You smile at the thought and finally realize why Damian is always so reserved on campus. He’s the youngest of such a big and lively family. Dick and Tim are familiar, too. You’ve seen their faces on the Legacy Wall of the academy. You’ve seen a few pictures of Jason and Cass, too but not as much.
     This is what Damian meant when he said he’s worked hard for everything in his life. It must be hard living behind so many giant shadows.
     When Cass finally intervenes and disentangles the boys, you place your hand over Damian’s as he sits back down. He turns to you and you give him a supportive smile.
     He smirks and raises an eyebrow, “You keep getting into a better mood each time I look at you.”
     You blush a little because who would ever expect someone to just say things like that. “Maybe your company just does that to me,” you tease back.
     You hear a quick snicker from Dick and both of you turn to him. He’s visibly whispering to Cass but it’s audible enough for you to hear. “They’readorable.”
     After that, Damian never took you back to the diner again, not wanting to let his siblings see the two of you together. But on campus, you are almost always together.
     “Stop! Stop!” you laugh and try to protect yourself from the whirlwind of water Damian is sending your way as he shakes his head. He had just finished training and met up with you at the stands where you’ve been studying while waiting.
     Damian leans down and kisses you on the lips. Your eyes widen before they slowly close as you let him lead. You hear catcalls from his teammates and you can already guess that Damian’s flipping them off.
     “Okay. Come here.” You break the kiss and pull down the towel he had draped around his shoulders. You use it to properly rub his head and dry off his hair. “You must be tired. That ran longer than usual.”
     Damian tries to look at you as you keep drying his hair, “Competition’s next week so we’re doing last-minute checks on everyone’s forms. Did you wait long?”
     You nod your head like a child. “Been here since morning. It’s so hard to date a varsity,” you groan.
     Damian takes the towel from you and rubs your face with it. “Think that’s hard? Try dating a vigilante.”
     You giggle as you try to fight Damian for the towel, “I wouldn’t mind that. Batman seems to be getting hotter these days.”
     You’re only teasing him and he knows it. But you don’t know that the mantle of Batman has been passed down to him. So he laughs out loud and it’s one of those rarest moments you want to treasure but you also can’t resist the urge to just kiss this happy and carefree version of Damian Wayne. 
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sunmoonandeddie · 5 years ago
Text
rosemary’s corner
pairing: bucky barnes x reader
word count: 2,788
summary: There’s something up with Bucky.
warnings: Some h*ckin’ words.
a/n:  This is dedicated to @johnnynunzio.  I love you so, so much and I’m so proud of you.
There was something up with Bucky.
And Sam could call him paranoid all he wanted, but at the end of the day, Steve Rogers knew his best friend—goddamnit—and he knew something was going on.
Bucky had gotten into the habit of disappearing for hours on end—sometimes entire nights—without warning, only to reappear and act as though he had been in the Tower the whole time.  And even though he wasn’t big on hanging out with the rest of the team before, it had gotten even worse over the past few months.  Hell, when he was with the team, he spent the entire time staring at his phone.
Steve’s brows furrowed as he stepped out of the elevator.  He’d spent the past four hours down in the gym, desperately trying to figure out what the hell was going on with his best friend.
But if he couldn’t figure it out, maybe FRIDAY could.
“Hey, Fri?” He called out as he shut his bedroom door.
“Yes, Captain Rogers?”
The heat of the water turns his skin pink as he scrubs at his hair.  “Do you know where Bucky’s been going?”
“Yes, Captain Rogers.”
When the A.I. doesn’t continue, he frowns up at the ceiling as though she was up there.  “... Can you tell me where he is?”
The A.I. sounded almost sorry as she said, “I’m sorry, Captain Rogers, but Sergeant Barnes asked me to not tell anyone his whereabouts.”
“Even me?”
“Yes, even you.”
And okay, yeah, that kind of really fucking hurts.  It hurts that Bucky is keeping something from him because in their hundred years or so of being alive, they’d never kept secrets from each other.  Shit, Bucky had even told Steve when he first got his hands up a dame’s skirt way back in ‘34.
They told each other everything.
“Alright,” the blond said as he shut off the water.  “Guess it’s time for Plan C.”
Plan C, as it turns out, requires a little more time.  It means waiting until Bucky gets back to the Tower and then waiting for him to leave again.
But apparently that’s even harder than he thought it would be since trying to catch the former Winter Soldier leaving is like trying to catch a ghost.
It took him almost two weeks to finally catch him.  It was a little after nine, and the rest of the team had retreated to their respective bedrooms for the night.
Steve, however, spent almost half an hour by his door, ear pressed to the wood and listening for the tell tale sound of Bucky’s door opening from across the hall.
When he finally heard the creak at precisely 9:42 PM, he makes sure to wait a few minutes before following him out.  He took the stairs, bolting down each flight.  He had to wait several long minutes for the elevator to catch up, watching as Bucky zipped up his jacket before heading out into the cool autumn air.
Not for the first time, he cursed his best friend’s ability to sneak through the streets of New York almost undetected.  Plan A had been Bucky just telling his best friend where he was going as he should’ve done as his goddamn best friend, and if that had happened like Steve had hoped, he wouldn’t be traversing down tenth, after having to follow him through several subway rides.
He’s even more confused when he started to spot the NYU signs littering the area.
He stopped in his tracks as Bucky stepped into a familiar looking store, a string of lights glittering brightly in the window display despite the late hour.
He vaguely remembered walking past the shop with him a few weeks before, but when he’d told Bucky that they should stop in sometime, he’d immediately clammed up and shrugged, claiming that it was probably too hipstery for either of their tastes.
Which, to be fair, it was really close to the New York University campus.
Steve got a little closer, just enough to peek in through the window that had ‘Rosemary’s Corner’ emblazoned across it.
The store was the perfect picture of cozy, though it did have that hipster feel that both him and Bucky tried to avoid.  Shelves full of records lined the front end of the shop, lights hung up along the tops of each one.  He could just barely see what seemed to be a coffee station towards the back, a menu with titles such as ‘Pumpkin Spice Marshmallow Latte’ and ‘Blueberry Delight Cappuccino’ hung up on the wall behind it.  A vintage record player in the corner was crooning out the familiar voice of Billie Holiday, just barely audible outside the shop.
And there in the back, amidst the waist high shelves, was his best friend.  Steve’s eyes widened as he watched him grab a record from a cart next to him, handing it to a girl who seemed to be the only employee present.  There was a flush in his cheeks, a shy smile tugging at his lips, that the blond hadn’t seen since the forties.
The girl seemed to be just as enamoured as him as she placed the record amongst the stacks.  Her movements were slow, unhurried, as she took each record that Bucky offered her.  She seemed so content to just be in his presence.
Bucky’s mouth moved silently and he lit up like a Christmas tree as he watched the girl erupt into giggles.  Her teeth caught her lower lip as she moved to shelve yet another record, but she froze as the man’s flesh hand reached up to gently tug it, releasing it.  The two of them were stuck in place, too lost in each other to think about the task at hand.
And despite the fact that anyone could walk past at any moment and see them through the window, Steve felt like he was intruding on something… private.  The intimacy between the two so apparent that it sent a blush to his cheeks to have seen it.  Just before he turned to leave, he saw Bucky rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, the both of them attempting to pretend that they didn’t just have a moment.
He went back the next day, when he knew that Bucky would be stuck at the Tower for at least a few more hours.  He wanted to be able to talk to her in private, to maybe ask her intentions.
And yeah, it was really shady for him to go behind Bucky’s back, but he wasn’t about to just let some girl walk in and fuck with his emotions if she didn’t intend on staying.
So he made the trek up to tenth once again, though it went a lot faster now that he knew where he was going and he didn’t have to hide.
Rosemary’s Corner looked almost the exact same during daylight, though Steve wasn’t sure why he was expecting any different.  The only difference is that there’s a few more patrons than just Bucky during the day all spread out through the shop.
The girl’s sitting at the cash register towards the back, flipping through a book.  She looked up as the bells above the door chimed with his entrance, an easy smile gracing her features.  His eyes are drawn to her shirt, recognizing it as the flannel that Bucky had been wearing the night before over his t-shirt.  The sleeves were rolled in order to accommodate her—she wasn’t exactly the size of the super soldier—but she looked so cozy it was hard to imagine her ever wishing him harm.  “Hi!  Welcome to Rosemary’s!”
He tried to pretend as though he’s not there to interrogate her, perusing through the stacks in what he hopes is a casual and aimless manner.
“Hi.”
Steve jumped, whirling around to stare at the girl.  “Hey.”  The super soldier was more than a little surprised that she was able to sneak up at him—he had espionage training from Natasha fucking Romanoff.  But even so, she’d somehow managed to approach him without making the slightest noise.
“You’re James’s friend, Steve,” she said, holding out her hand for him to shake as she gave him her name.
He eyed her hand warily.  “How do you know me?”
Her eyebrows rose as she stared at him, reminding him a little too much of how a certain redhead would look at him when he was being particularly stupid.  “It takes more than a baseball hat to fool me, Captain.”
Swallowing, he crossed his arms over his chest, going into full Captain mode.  “Then I’m sure you know why I’m here.”
But she simply breezed past him, heading for a cart at the end of the aisle with a sign on it that read Don’t want it?  Leave it here!  Thanks!
He stood there in his spot for what seemed like ages, staring after her.  Did she really just disregard him?  He was Captain fucking America.  No one had disregarded him like that since he was in the USO shows.
“You know, I used to come here everyday when I was a student,” she said, pushing up the sleeves of the flannel to her elbows, before nudging the cart towards the first row of stacks.  “Back then, it was owned by Albert Cook.  He opened it for his wife back in ‘97 because his wife, Rosemary, missed records.  Everyone was using CDs at that point, and it just wasn’t the same.  They added the coffee shop in ‘02.”
Steve followed her like a puppy as she reshelved the records.  He wasn’t sure where she was going with all of this, but she’d made it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with him pushing her around.
“They hired me here my freshman year, but I was here even when I wasn’t working.  It’s my favorite place in the entire world, and Albert and Rosemary became my home away from home.  It’s not easy moving so far from home for college, but they helped me.  A lot.  Two years after I graduated, it became mine.”  She paused, staring at the Cher record in her hand.  Her eyes glimmered with unshed tears and Steve could feel the sorrow rolling off of her in waves.  “Albert passed and in his will…  I told Rosemary that I wasn’t going to take the shop from her, that she could have it, but she insisted I take it.  Apparently her and Albert had decided to put me in his will ages before he died…”  Her eyes crinkled up as she laughed, “I thought their kids were going to shit themselves.  They were so mad.”  She shrugged as she finally put the Cher record in its place.  “Rosemary didn’t really understand why they were so mad about me getting the shop when they never came in.  But she moved upstate with her kids and I moved into the apartment upstairs.  I still see her every week for lunch.”
“Excuse my interruption,” Steve said when he finally sensed a pause.  “But why are you telling me all of this?”
She finally turned to him then, looking so open and honest that it took him aback.  “You’re here to question me about James, and I get that.  He’s been through a lot.”
“He’s told you?” He asked, blue eyes wide.  “About all the… HYDRA stuff?”  At her nod, he narrowed his eyes at her.  “But he never tells anyone about—”
“Well, he tells me,” she snapped, her hands going to her hips.  “I know about all the things he’s done and I don’t care.  He’s the best man I’ve ever met.”  The girl closed her eyes as she paused, taking in a deep breath.  When she opened her eyes, the storm in her eyes had settled.  “I need you to know that I love James.  I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt him.  And while I can appreciate that he has a best friend like you—”
“You don’t like your loyalty being questioned,” Steve finished, much quieter.  He felt as though he’d been put in his place, which didn’t happen often.  “I…  I don’t either.  Not when it comes to Bucky.”
A sarcastic smile settled on her lips.  “We have that in common, Captain.”
The two of them went quiet as she went back to her task, occasionally having to go to the front to ring up a customer or make a cup of coffee.  At some point, Steve started helping her, handing her the records just as Bucky had been doing the night before.  Customers came and went, but as it got later, it got less and less populated.
“I changed the hours a few months after I got the shop,” she mused as she glanced over at the few college kids studying at one of the tables.  One of them had put on a Hozier album, the earthy songs sounding like they belonged on a record.  “It’s better for college students.  Gives them a place to study or just hang out late at night, and they can choose any album from the used record wall to play for free.”  Her nose scrunched as she smiled.  “And I’m not much of a morning person, so it gives me a reason to sleep in until noon.”
“Does he know you love him?” Steve asked suddenly, cheeks going a particular shade of pink.  “Bucky, I mean.”
“Yeah, I got that,” she said, nudging him.  But she was just as flushed as him.  “I hope so.  I haven’t exactly been subtle.  But I might have to make a move soon if he doesn’t.”
He cleared his throat, shoving his hands into his pockets.  “You should.  Make a move, that is.”
“He can be rather shy, can’t he?”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Both of them looked up, startled, to see the man of the hour standing there in the doorway.  Neither of them had heard the bells above the door as he entered.
“James,” she breathed, a fond smile painting her lips as she saw him.  “You’re early tonight.”
His ocean eyes softened just a tad as they flickered over to her, but hardened juts as quickly when he turned his attention back to the other man.  “What are you doing here?”
“I followed you last night,” he said, apology clear in his eyes.
“Why?”
Steve flinched at the harshness of his tone, but knowing that he more than deserved it.  “I was worried, Buck.  You weren’t telling me where you were going, and you disappeared for so long and I was just…  I was worried.”
“You don’t have to take care of me,” Bucky said as he moved to stand in between his girl and his best friend.  “I’m more than capable of taking care of myself.”
“I know that.”
“Then why—”
“James,” she said, cutting him off, “He’s here because he cares.  We both do.”  The man searched her eyes, his metal hand gently resting on her elbow.  “I’m okay.  Captain America can’t scare me.”
Steve crossed his arms over his chest, once again feeling like an intruder.  He’d never seen his best friend so taken with a girl, so... enraptured.  “Don’t worry.  Your girl put me in my place faster than I could blink.”
The brunet flushed, shaking his head.  “She’s not—”
“I think I should go,” he said, backing towards the door.  “I’ll leave you two alone.  But, Buck—”  He nodded towards the girl, who had slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow.  “Don’t be afraid to bring her around the Tower.  I’m sure everyone would love her.”
Bucky nodded once, his arm moving to wrap around the girl’s waist and bring her into his chest.  “I will.”
As Steve stepped out into the night air, he was shocked by how late it had gotten, by just how long he’d spent in the shop.  A breeze promising an early winter ruffled his hair and sent a chill through him.  As he wrapped his jacket tighter around him, he took one last look at the two through the window.
The girl was pressed up against him, eyes sparkling as she stared up at Bucky.  He could clearly read the words ‘I love you’ on her lips and the shock on his best friend’s face.  Without a second thought, she pressed her lips to his, her fingers tangling in his hair.  It took a few seconds for his brain to start working again, but when it did, his arms wrapped around her tightly, pulling her in for another kiss just as she started to pull away.
Steve headed for the subway, a smirk on his lips.  “You’re in good hands, jerk.”
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anika-ann · 5 years ago
Text
Heart Too Cold, but Friends of Gold - Pt.10
Alone Is What I Have
Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 2200
Summary: Avenger!reader AU. Part 2 of Melting Hearts series. Part 1 HERE.
Snowflake is hiding. And she’s good at it. Also, reportes suck (at least in this story and chapter)
Warnings: swearing, light angst,… eh
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Story Masterlist
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Alone is what I have, alone protects me. (BBC’s Sherlock Holmes) …And what more, alone protects the people I care about the most.
Prague was an interesting city. You supposed it was not too much different from other European cities, the old buildings and a breath of history on every other corner meeting the modern steel and technology of today, but there was just some kind of an aura that got to you. The system of public transportation had been a bit confusing at first, but allowed countless different ways of getting where you needed, which also meant many different escape routes – you still were a pragmatic. And you liked it here.
What you not necessarily liked, but definitely appreciated for its convenience, was the anonymity and the nature of Czech people – it took them a lot of time to warm up to someone, no matter how warm-hearted they could become once they let someone in.
In the streets of Prague, you could easily recognize Praguer from a foreigner; unlike the foreigners, the habitants of Czech capital had developed an amazing ability of looking around and not seeing. They would meet the same person for the fourth time in the past hours and they simply wouldn’t notice. They were having their eyes for nothing; it always reminded you of Matt Murdock, the blind lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen who was the exact opposite.
Matt, despite not being able to use his eyes anymore, saw more than anyone. You had thought of contacting him many times, just to have some familiarity in your new world where friendship or any kind of a relationship was a luxury you couldn’t afford, but you always backed out. You were too scared of him getting in touch with the Avengers’ team. Not to mention his lawyer persona seemed busy enough even without your load of crap – you had looked him up few times, rather rarely and always within walking distance from the faculty of law of Charles University of Prague, so you wouldn’t raise suspicion about yourself. After all, a random person connected to public wi-fi taking interest in a very specific lawyer of Hell’s Kitchen could be much of a hint; if the random person was a law student though… you thought it was relatively safe.
So you only had acquaintances, people you met from time to time, but never for their friendship – they were more of business partners, really. You headed to a meeting to a café which one of ‘your’ people, Eva, frequented rather often and liked to hang out in.
You found a boot in the back. You pulled out your laptop and started it, automatically checking on your surrounding once more; it was a terrible and necessary habit of a person who was on the run. Since you were almost 15 minutes early, you decided to catch up with the world (read the Avengers) on free wi-fi.
The apartment you lived in had no internet connection and once again, you needed the anonymity; if people connecting in a café checked the news site and paid a lot of attention to news of New York City and the Avengers, no one could question it – and it wouldn’t pop out at Tony’s radar, because no one could tell the search was coming from one particular person repeatedly.  
When you opened the news site, your heart stopped. Your breath froze on your lips, your throat getting impossibly tight, your vision immediately blurring. You squinted at the screen so you could re-read the headline.  
‘Did our Captain die for nothing?’
You could feel the optical mouse crying under your palm as the frost covered it, but you couldn’t make yourself to care.
Your eyes were roaming around the article, desperately finding a prove of you being wrong.
Luckily, you were.
Seventy years ago, Steven Grant Rogers, a man we know as Captain America, laid down his life to save countless others. The serum-powered soldier’s mission was to take down HYDRA, Nazi’s science division, and all history books claim that he and his Howling Commandos achieved that. Yet, the events of past days are telling us a different story. Captain America and other S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives were fighting the very same organization everyone believed to be defeated. While in reality, HYDRA had been growing in their own rows.
The reporter went on, uncovering an enormous intel leak from S.H.I.E.L.D. following the discovery of HYDRA moles inside of the government agency, but there was no other word on Steve. You choose to believe he was alive – because they would sure as hell ‘mention’ if he wasn’t –, finally allowing yourself to breathe in.
You decided you hated reporters and their shocking headlines that were supposed to bait more readers. You almost had a fucking heart-attack.
Now, you had to believe Steve was alright. In addition, you learned he had found a new ally known as Falcon – a man with advanced technology in a form of fucking wings. Also, Natasha had been by his side.
Reading into details of the article – and multiple others – you were stressing over your parents again. Fury had told you there was no record of their current position in S.H.I.E.L.D. files, something he had taken care of when finding out there had been the leak about your identity in the first place. In theory, they should be safe – but all you had was hope.
There was a tiny voice in the back of your head, luring you back to US, back to the Avengers, back to Steve. Once again, the theory was he should be safer now – you believed now that Michaels was part of HYDRA, the organization he had been talking about to scare you off being nothing else but the group finding its origins in the thirties – yet, you were too scared to take that risk. If HYDRA had handled to infiltrate S.H.I.E.L.D. and figure out your identity, where was the insurance of some other terrorist group not being able to do the same? As convenient as it would be, Michaels hadn’t had to be part of HYDRA at all.
You couldn’t go back.
Not to mention you didn’t believe your family of choice would want you back and you didn’t think you could handle the rejection. Your heart ached at the image of Steve’s cold eyes, pushing you away. You dreamed of it sometimes, of you returning and him greeting you flatly, advising you to come back where you had come from; sometimes, he welcomed you with the warmest smile and ‘I missed you so much’ on his lips before letting them get familiar with yours again.
But in the cold reality, you knew your return was way too risky – for Steve and for your heart as well.
You focused on the lines in front of you, letting each of them get carved into your brain. You learned about Steve being in a hospital, fortunately with his life no longer hanging on a thread. You learned that S.H.I.E.LD. stopped existing, leaving a whole lot of uncovered secrets behind, including the last possible trace of you in Provence – you had left the area months ago after you couldn’t resist and had saved a little girl from getting hit by a car, sadly in a way that draw too many prying eyes. You had had to change the settings of your mask and run after that stunt.
That was how you had found yourself in Prague, building a completely new life once again. You were an English teacher now, a private one, individuals or little groups seeking you out for improving their conversation skills. It was ridiculous how much money people were willing to pay for it – luckily for you. It meant a very flexible schedule and not necessarily meeting the same people regularly, which was relatively safe.
“Brigit!” a voice called out and you jumped in your seat, realizing the woman was addressing you. Damn the fake names!
You looked up with a hasty smile, meeting Eva’s amused expression.
“Spaced a little, aren’t you?”
“Spaced out,” you corrected her automatically and she gave you a look that told you she was hundred percent done with you. You grinned in return. “Sorry. Just… interesting article. Let’s order some caffeine before we start?”
“Yes, please. I was working on my thesis for like… well, very long. I barely slept. I need caffeine.”
Your smile turned sympathetic. Late nights you knew too well despite never being a college student. Eva was majoring in biology on top of that, trying to improve her English so she could apply for her dream job, so you couldn’t even imagine the pain.
“You know what? I’m paying today.”
The woman honestly looked as if she wanted to kiss you on spot. Which was kinda ironic, considering how much money she paid you and how little the coffee cost in comparison, but you weren’t about to mention that.
“I’m choosing the most expensive one.”
“I’m sure you are.”
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Life went on. Days seemed too long, so you had been adding new students to your flock to keep yourself busy with no time for gloomy thoughts. But the truth was, you were just terribly lonely.
You missed your parents.
You missed your team.
You missed Steve.
And as crazy as it sounded, you missed the insane world of avenging, because the people whose absence was killing you had been a part of that world. Not even starting on the rewarding feeling that would come when managing to save a life.
It was one of those days when you were drowning in loneliness when you learned about yet another adventure the team had been through – maybe it was why the news of Sokovia hit you so hard.
An artificial intelligence trying to take on the world with an army of super-bots under his command and starting with… sending a part of the country literally flying in the air. It ended with that, only thanks to the Avengers and the word was that three more enhanced individuals were seen on the scene, one of them laying down his life.
Three more enhanced. Had the world gone completely crazy? And the one who had died….
The urge to come back, maybe be forgiven, maybe even not being afraid for Steve’s life with what could be new faces on the team… it was stronger than ever. Your heart ached, the homesickness squeezing your lungs and not allowing you to breathe in properly.
You left yet another café in hurry, shooting Petr, the student you were supposed to meet, a quick apology that you were feeling very sick. You apologized for the extremely short notice. He was almost too understanding, but you were grateful that you could just curl up in a ball on your bed and cry for an hour. It cost you all of your strength not to give in to the calling of your powers and start a snowstorm. It would make you weak and you would be found. You kinda wanted to be weak and found, hopefully by your friends.
You didn’t take the risk.
The next day, you woke up with new determination to pick up as many new students as you could to wear yourself down to a bone. For the two following weeks, you were desperate to search for some new faces.
With Murphy’s luck, it seemed like too many of yours no longer needed your services and no newbies popped up. It was one of the reasons why you jumped after the opportunity; when Eva mentioned she had this Russian friend who had moved to Prague very recently and seemed so excited about the lessons Eva was still attending, you immediately said yes to a meeting set in an only three days’ notice.
You should have known better.
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The woman – Inna, as you learned from Eva’s narration – came to the café with her friend; you had said it would be easier for her to be accompanied instead of Eva taking a picture of you and letting her find you on her own. The true reason behind your actions had been simple – you didn’t want anyone to have your picture, even when wearing the S.H.I.E.L.D. mask.
So Eva entered the Starbucks of your choice with a pretty blonde by her side and gave you a cheerful wave as she spotted you by the stairs; you waited for the blonde to order, while Eva disappeared again to run some errands since she was in the centre of the town.
You guided Inna to a table in a less busy corner of the otherwise crowded room upstairs and you both set your drinks down before shaking hands.
“I’m Brigit. It’s very nice to meet you!” you tried out, previously learning from Eva that Inna’s level of English was pretty good.
The woman, who had seemed rather nervous before, relaxed as she accepted your hand, her shoulders losing the tension in them.
“The pleasure is all mine. I heard a lot about you.”
You were almost taken aback by her voice, heavy with eastern accent; despite the fact you knew where she came from, you expected the accent being less thick. But maybe you were just oversensitive.
“Really? Good things I hope?”
The blonde laughed shortly, her face getting younger. It was easier to see how she and Eva could be friends now. “Oh yes, Eva wouldn’t shut up about you! Shall we start?”
“Sure,” you agreed, gesturing towards the chair. “Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself and then what would you like our sessions to look like?”
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Part 11
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Tags: @mermaidxatxheart​, @murdermornings​, @elisaa-shelby​ @ask-hellbent-tweek​ @cxptain​, @kallafrench​, @smilexcaptainx​ @scentedsongrebel​, @orions-nebula​
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*Very discreetly shoves Czechia into another fic and smiles innocently* I need to use my knowledge, okay? :D
Also, BBC’s Sherlock is full of amazing quotes and I feel like re-watching it when I have the time.
And I’m aware this was a bit of a filler chapter. I’m preparing the ground for the next one, which hopefully will be more eventful ;) (I wonder who that new student might be :D )
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