#it's not starting out as angsty as i could make it but IT SURE IS GONNA GET THERE QUICK

[notsodailycake]

Ok, this was originally done as an apology for my angsty drabble about Shockwave controlling Prowl then straight up killing Jazz at the end lmao.

Now, with the added fic made from it, I feel like we fans will be needing some fluff, so i bestow yall with this little drabble.

This was based off of a little something that me and my sister have talked about few times. Laughter, and how much that can spiral out of control heh.

Hope this makes yall laugh as much as it made us while writing this (seriously, we ended up going on our own spiral of laughter while trying to get the ideas out to write).

To give the very deserved credits to my sister @saltynsassy31 who wrote down some of the parts of this fic herself, so give your praises to her as well for it!

Mecha pilot au belongs to @keferon

Now onto the fic:

------

"Human laughter scares me"

It had been a normal and quiet afternoon, how did it escalate to this?! That's all Prowl could think of when trying to rationalise this situation, currently holding a wheezing human on his palm.

...

Jazz was out of his suit, needing a break, by Prowl's insistance, to eat something. Despite not being an organic himself, he seems the one most concerned about the condition of his partner. Humans were so fragile, yet somehow very much not, it baffled the mech.

So many things worked against the survival of a human, their own bodies sometimes, the more he learned about it, yet somehow they prevailed.

But he was not about to take any chances, so, in turn, he made sure Jazz would be taken care properly, if not by himself, then by Prowl.

Jazz was sitting down on Prowl's desk, just telling a story from his home planet while the mech listened, the little human insisting that if he needed a break, so did Prowl, and his leader was not opposed to the idea.

As he went on about a random story of his childhood, the human seemed to remember something branching from that train of thought and when he tried to get to the point of the story, something odd happaned.

He snorted a little. That, Prowl has seen the human do a few times, even heard him do this strange noise when he was just seen as the mecha suit itself. He learned quickly that was simply how humans sometimes held their laughter, to try and compose themselves.

But that only seemed to be the start of it. As little by little, Jazz struggled to utter out a single word as he snorted and wheezed slightly the at words.

"Did you- heheh- Did you- Hahaha-"

And as Jazz attempted to say whatever it was he wanted to say, it was as if his body refused and rejected the word, air being sucked in hard with a wheeze before being pushed out even harder that it made a gutteral noise rip out of the human's throat. And if Prowl thought that was all he needed to push out the words he wanted, he was sorely mistaken, as this was only the start.

Jazz suddenly got up from his previous sitted position, wheezing a little as he lifted a trembling hand up to point at the mech, seeming to think that could help with his inability to speak out his thoughts. Instead that just caused him to let out a audial piercing screech. He moved his hands around more, trying to somehow convey whatever it was that caused this reaction, but the way they frantically moved did little to help and actually made whatever was happening to Jazz worse, if that was even possible.

And it was, because suddenly Jazz was clutching at his stomach and throwing himself backward as his voice became a cacophony of scratchy noises and incoherent mumbling, and what alarmed Prowl the most was how Jazz seemed to start getting dizzy and stumbling around, throwing one hand to try and catch anything as he stumbled forward but only swatted at air. Which, Prowl may add, seemed to be something that the human was struggling to take in.

And, if his memory serves him right, he needed that.

Quickly Prowl moved his servo over to Jazz, looming over him to catch him if he were to fall, or even just to serve as support. Jazz seemed to have taken on the offer, leaning a hand over the palm while his other hand clutched at his stomach.

That didn't last long though, as quickly as he made move to look at Prowl's servo, something clicked in his head, and quickly he stumbled back, letting out more uncomfortable and uncontrolled wheezed laughter.

Prowl got intensely more worried at his partner's condition, now deciding to call him out on it. "Jazz, what's wrong? Is everything alright??"

That seemed to have been the wrong move, as although the other had momentarily stopped to look at the mech with tear filled eyes and a strained smile, it quickly devolved to even more incomprehensible laughter and struggle to convey any words. Jazz tried his very best to form any words that would explain the situation, but it only came out as puffed wheezes following a rhythm that Prowl could only guess were the vowls of what he wanted to say, but he could distinguish none of them as he was not all that familiar with the language.

The human quickly fell to his knees, his hands clutched into fits as his knuckles turned white from the pressure and he slammed them on the desk's surface, as yet another strange attempt to bring air into his lungs.

Before Prowl could try and resson any sort of an appropriate action to this, Jazz let out a scream. Much less screechy than before, and much more like a war cry. Prowl wouldn't be surprised if somebot came in questioning what all the commotion was for.

"Jazz!!" Prowl called out exasperated and yet again, that was another wrong move, causing the human to start rolling on the surface of the table as maniacal laughter dripped from his intake, hands flailing around and slamming hard against the table as if that would somehow force his body to breath properly.

Jazz began to stutter, and sometimes his mouth would stay open yet not a single noise would cone out of it, neither did he seem to be taking in or exhaling any air, like he was frozen in the moment before an audial peircing noise ripped from the human's throat after a big gasp of air.

He had flipped over to his side before trying to lift himself up, body trembling with strain, before he suddenly dropped his head and slammed his forehead against the table and reached to place his hands over right behind his audials ears and shakily exclaim "it hurts!" While still smiling. It sent Prowl mixed signals.

The mech sat there in abstant horror as he processed what was being desplayed infront of him. In delayed reaction, Prowl could only mutter one word.

"What?"

And for the third time that was, once again, the wrong  reaction as Jazz let out a howling screech at that with more breathless laughter.

Prowl was left clueless as to what he should try and do to help his partner, simply reaching out and gently picking up the tiny, breathless  human to see if he could do something to ease the possible pain.

He moved his cupped servo close to his face to try and analyse Jazz's condition. Maybe he should take him to one of the medics who had been helping them so far with organic knowledge, but as far as he knew, this wasn't supposed to be harmful, it was simple human laughter! To express joy or humour to something, and clearly there was a lot of it to cause Jazz to get like this. But he was clearly struggling to breath with this, so it has to be something serious.

Could humans die from something as simple and supposedly joyful as laughter?

Before Prowl could open his intake, Jazz had seemed to have sensed his partner's internal struggle and need to understand it, and quickly placed a tiny hand on his dermas. Although it might have been quite aggressive, and hurt the regular human with its strength, it felt nothing but a pinch to Prowl.

"Don't-" he wheezed out, barely audible to Prowl, the second word lost to another wheezed breath, mouth only mimicking the movement it was supposed to take. Though, this time, the mech understood quite well what he ment.

So he did as instructed, and didn't utter a single word, hoping his optics did the job to deliver his thoughts.

That was the fouth time, and counting, the mech did something wrong, because it seems like his worried glance were funny to the little human. That his concerns for his health were humorous to him. And honestly, Prowl wasn't sure if he should take offence to that or not.

At this point, Prowl could do nothing else other than to sit there, dumbfounded, which was not a situation he felt pleased being in (and didn’t find himself often in, until this human came crashing into his life), as his partner laughed off uncontrollably, slamming his hands over his own knees, or sometimes at the palm of the servo holding him, while clutching his stomach in what seemed to be strained pain.

Prowl made move to get up now, thoroughly done with this and ready to deliver the troubled human to a medic. He was losing too much air at this point and it could very much fatal.

But just as he did, before he could even fully stand from his seat, the mech caught a glance over to Jazz who, despite his struggles with breathing at the moment, waved over an arm in signal for Prowl to stop moving. Prowl raised a questioning brow, which was the fifth wrong move (he might as well just assume everything he does that expresses concern will be a wrong move at this point), as Jazz quickly fell into more laugher, but the exhaustion was clear to any bot as he gasped far more aggressively for air in attempt to stop his uncontrolled laugh.

"Sit." He breathed out, gagging a little at the word before attempting to speak once more. "Don't- haha- move." After more strained giggles, he uttered one more word he deemed necessary; "please."

So Prowl sat down, and watched as Jazz let out whatever was left in his system. To his relief, it seemed like that had been the first correct move Prowl has done over the past joor, as Jazz was finally starting to calm down, fallen flat on his back by now, as he let out exhausted breaths.

It was quiet for a moment, Prowl wasn't sure how long, but slowly Jazz started to move himself from his fallen position to sit back up, using trembling hands to hold himself from the back. It took a little more of breathing before the human decided to speak again, hesitantly, as if to test for himself if it was safe to speak.

"S-sorry about....that"

Prowl was unsure if he should speak up himself, but deemed appropriate enough by now. "Care to....explain, all of that?"

Jazz let out another snort at that, which caused the mech to panic that he might have caused the human to spiral down once more. But he just shook his head while bitting down on his bottom lip, as if to hold his smile from growing.

"I just....lost control."

"Lost control?" Prowl raised a questioning brow, Jazz just kept looking away as if he knew just looking at the mech would cause trouble once more.

"Y-yeah."

Prowl had so many questions about how that was even possible, one such question being whether there could be a system override for such an occasion, but his processor quickly screamed back in reminder that that was not possible.

They sat in silence once more as Jazz caught up with all the air he missed out during his fit, and Prowl contemplated on what or if  he should ask something. Finally, after maybe a klik or so, Prowl finally inquired on something.

"Jazz, you looked like you were about to die-"

"Sure felt like it" the human chuckled, Prowl did not find humour on that.

"I'm serious Jazz, could such a simple thing as laughter really kill you?" The most demanding question on his processors, slipping out without a second to stop it. That seemed to have caught his partner off guard, and, thank Primus, such concern was not left for the human's humour as he looked genuinely guilty and possibly conflicted over the question.

"Weeellll..." As he made move to rotate one of his hands, as if to try and roll out a proper answer, the answer itself seemed to click for Prowl.

"Oh my Primus it can." The mech looked utterly horrified at the revelation. "You could have died Jazz-"

"NO! Wait Prowl, stop!" Jazz panicked, quickly trying to console his giant partner. "I would have been fine! It would take alot more to kill me!" That did not seem to comfort the mech.

"How much?!"

"Uhm, ok, 'm honestly not sure." Prowl raised his brows, looking very much not pleased with that answer, but Jazz continued before Prowl could, "but I know that worse case scenario I would've just passed out, but would be able to breath normally again. You'd just have to wait till I woke up again!"

The mech seemed to contemplate whether that was a satisfactory answer or not. He seemed to have landed in the middle.

"You seemed to be in genuine pain though, so pardon my concerns about it."

"'S cuz I was."

"Then why didn't you stop?"

"I just couldn't, 'nd I don't have the answer as to why honestly, so sorry to disappoint. Sometimes we humans just start laughing and it gets out of control, to the point where everything's funny, even a pencil drop could cause the spiral to worsen."

"Or a concerned partner's face?" Prowl mused

Jazz chuckled, "yeah."

After a few seconds, Prowl decided to muse a bit on something. "So, what was it that you wanted to try and tell me earlier?" He smirked down at his partner.

The human just shook his head, chuckling slightly, but not falling down exasperated laughter. "I'm not even gonna try that again."

-----

Final notes. I added a little moment of Jazz pressing the back area of the ears, idk what they're called, while exclaiming he's hurt, and it's from my own personal experience of laughing so much that area would start to hurt from smiling so much, and I'd have to scream out "it hurts!" To try and stop it.

Not sure if anyone else experienced that, so yeah. Either way, thought it be funny to have this happen with Jazz, as I dont think cybertronians can necessarily go through the same issue of laughing so much in insanity because of lack of air. And also, yeah, it can be deadly, but it would take alot for that...as far as I know-

[marauder-misprint]

would u write abt some angsty (mybe w a happy ending?) w remus, please? if possible maybe smtg like the bet trope, im soo down bad with bet tropes, 😔😔😔 im sorry if its a burden, and thank you for spending ur time reading this

You said "bet trope" and I said bet. So it's more fluff than angst... oops? I'll try to get more angst with Remus soon

Conducive

Remus Lupin x fem!reader

4.7k words

cw: fluff, lil angst,

“Moons, how is it that you’ve never been kissed, yet everyone calls you Casanova?” Sirius asks at dinner in the Great Hall one evening.

Remus raises his eyebrows but doesn’t look away from his plate.

“I respect women?” he offers. 

“We all respect women here. But come on, even Peter’s kissed Mary,” James adds.

Remus looks up at his friends. “I’m here for an education. Dumbledore was kind enough to let me be here; least I can do is focus. You three are distraction enough.”

“I just think you could do with some more… distractions,” Sirius says, waving his fork around as a prop to make his point. 

“If I wanted a female distraction, I’d have no issues obtaining it.”

“No issues, huh?” Peter asks. “Care to prove it?”

Remus shot him a glare. “Did you miss the part where I said if I wanted it?”

“I don’t see how you don’t want it.”

“Wormy’s got a point,” James says.

“Let me rephrase: If I needed a female distraction,” Remus says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Sure, I want it from time to time, but if anyone else found out about my furry little secret, I’d be out of here. So I’m making the most of my time.”

“No one is going to find out!” Sirius says. “Have. Some. Fun.”

“You lot found out.”

“We live with you.”

“Still. You don’t think if I got involved with someone that it would take them that long? It was hard enough lying to you. What if I start to actually like someone? It’d be impossible.”

“Then don’t like them. Just get them to like you enough to kiss them and then ditch them,” Sirius suggests, earning himself a glare from Remus.

“That just sounds cruel.”

“More cruel than you denying yourself feminine company?”

“I’m Casanova, remember? I get plenty of company.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I still think you should prove it,” Peter says. “Do what Pads suggested.”

“What?”

“Get a girl.”

“Keep her ‘round long enough to get off and then you jet. Easy ‘nough, yeah?” James clarifies for Remus, given his mildly confused look.

“No,” Remus says firmly. 

“What if we made a bet out of it?” Sirius asks, leaning forward. 

That got Remus’ attention.

“Okay, then what do I get out of it? When I win.” 

“If, and only if, you can get a girlfriend and snog the living daylights out of her, we will… uh… willingly study with you in the library for finals. We’ll be complacent participants, helping you and ourselves. As you try to drag us to do every year,” Sirius says. He pauses as the other two nod. “And if you fail, butterbeers are on you for the rest of the year.”

Remus snorts. “So if I do it, I just get company in the library and you benefit. But if I lose, I’m financially ruined?” 

“More incentive,” Peter retorts. 

“You’re on,” Remus says, offering his hand for Sirius to shake. He does. “If I wasn’t sure I could do it, I’d be asking for better terms.” 

“Wait!” James interrupts with Remus and Sirius still mid-shake. “I feel like we should pick who it has to be. Otherwise you could just ask Marlene to snog you.”

Remus makes a face. “She’s dating Dorcas, you know this.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Peter says. “Either of them would snog you if you said it was for a bet, especially if it means we,” he gestures to him, James and Sirius, “lose said bet.”

“Fine. Pick the girl. For the love of Godric, pick someone single and semi-tolerable.”

The boys scan the hall, not paying attention to house. Their eyes land on you. All three boys seemed to be in agreement before any of them voiced your name. 

“Her,” James says, pointing at you.

You were just as perpetually single as Remus, although he didn’t know what your reason for being so was. It wasn’t like boys never approached you, offering to pay for your drinks at Hogsmeade or to stand by you at the next Quidditch match, but the boys always walked away looking a bit down. You shot them down. Every single one of them.

So in the boys’ attempt to get him to prove his ability to charm a girl, they also wanted to see a miracle. From the grins on their faces, they know it’s going to be impossible.

“So you want my financial ruin?”

“I want either want butterbeer or you to get fucking laid,” Sirius says coolly. “It’s a win-win for me.”

“We said nothing about me getting laid!” Remus exclaims, panicking. “We said kiss, snog, neck, whatever you want to call it. Not laid.”

James laughs, “If you can get a snog out of her, you’re definitely getting laid.”

“I hate that I shook on this already,” Remus groans. He knows he has no way out of this now. 

---

You are blissfully unaware of the bet the Marauders have going. You have no reason to think that you are of any concern to them, besides that Remus now occasionally says hello to you in passing. If anything, it feels like the other three are purposefully avoiding you, not that that matters to you. It’s preferable that way. You had always found Remus to be the most tolerable of them, but that didn’t mean you were friends or spoke to him all that often. Right now, it meant that you said hi back to him.

You are studying in the library when Remus comes up and asks if you’d mind if he shared a table with you. There are other tables available, but you agree. You are struggling with your Transfiguration essay and if it comes to it, you’re almost positive you could ask him for help. Until then, you work near each other in silence. That is, until someone else joins your table. 

Andrew Lark, a boy in your house, sits across from you. 

“You going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” he asks. 

“No,” you say shortly, not looking up from your essay, although you do stop writing. You don’t want to write the wrong thing down because Andrew was talking.

“Do you want to? I’d love to take you.”

“No thank you, Andrew.”

“Come on, love. Let me take you out.”

“I have no desire to go to Hogsmeade this weekend, nor do I want to go out with you.”

“Baby, we’d have-” he starts to say.

“Lark, she said no,” Remus says calmly, having stopped working as soon as Andrew approached the table. 

Andrew shot Remus an annoyed look. “Wasn’t talking to you, Lupin.”

“I know. But you weren’t listening to her.”

“This doesn’t involve you.”

Remus scoffs. “You interrupted my studying by being here. I’d say I’m semi-involved.”

“Then sit elsewhere,” Andrew says, before turning back to you. “Last chance? It’d be more fun than you’re imagining.”

You give Remus a sideways glance. He’s looking at you, waiting for your response as much as Andrew is. 

“Surprise, surprise, Remus is right. I said no.” You give Remus a quick smile before turning back to your essay.

Andrew rolls his eyes and stands up. “Think about it, dove. My offer will always stand.”

Then he walks away. You and Remus both return to your silent working. You feel Remus’ eyes on you every once in a while; you can also tell he’s looking at you from when he pauses his writing, letting his quill just hover above the ink pot longer than a person normally would. 

“So what do you have against Hogsmeade?” he asks after a few minutes. 

You snort. “Oh, nothing really. Andrew’s been asking me to go with him for months and I’d really rather not go with him. Plus, Slughorn’s essay? Haven’t even started that.”

Remus nods with a breath of relief. “Good, I don’t know how anyone can actually not like Hogsmeade.” He pauses. “Would you like company when you work on that essay?”

The question catches you off guard. You look up at him and you’re sure the shock is evident on your face. 

“I, uh, can’t stop anyone from being in the library,” you say, feeling uncertain.

“Well, no,” he chuckles. “But if you’d rather work alone…”

You don’t respond right away; you’re considering it. Remus wasn’t a bother. You didn’t know why he would give up a Hogsmeade trip to be in the library with you though. You knew he usually accompanied his boisterous friends to the village.

“If it’s just you, I suppose company could be nice.” A small smile is playing at your lips in a way Remus has never seen before. “If you’re thinking of bringing the rest of your little gang with you, I’d rather you stay away then.”

Remus chuckles. “Those gits will be off in the village. Possibly pestering Lark.” He sends a wink your way.

You shake your head as you look back down at your essay, but there’s an undeniable smile on your face now. Remus sees it as a success. Maybe with a little persuading from him, the others would let Lark know he needed to back off of you and you’d be free from his pursuits. 

Come Saturday, you and Remus are back at the same table. Except he’s sitting across from you and reading as opposed to working on his own assignments.

Curious, you ask, “Weren’t you assigned this essay too?”

“Finished it.”

“And you don’t have anything else to work on?”

“No. That’s why I’m reading.” He flourishes his book for emphasis.

“So you gave up going to Hogsmeade for…” Your voice lilts like you’re asking a question.

“To keep you company while you work.”

“I work alone all the time. I’m usually more productive that way.”

“Maybe you just haven’t had company conducive to efficiency.”

“Who talks like that?” you laugh. “Company conducive to efficiency.”

Remus smiles at you and sets his book down. “I’m just saying! Some people are more of a distraction while others let you do your thing. James and Sirius? Distractions. Peter… He goes back and forth between the two.”

“And I suppose you’re conducive for them.”

“Most of the time. Others, I’m as bad as they are.”

He picks his book back up to continue reading and you return to your essay. The library is silent except for the scratching of your quill and the occasional turning of pages by Remus. You sneak a few glances at him when you finish a sentence or a paragraph, and you catch yourself full on staring at him when you finish. As you put your work away, you clear your throat to get his attention.

“I suppose you being here was conducive, but I feel bad that you didn’t go to Hogsmeade.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. Sometimes I need a break from certain people.”

“Then let me make it up to you. Let’s go to Hogsmeade together tomorrow.” You pause and blush at what you just said. “If you want to, of course, and don’t have anything else planned. I just thought that, because you didn’t go today and tomorrow will be less busy since everyone goes today.” You feel yourself rambling which makes you blush harder.

“Yeah, okay. That’d be nice. Meet you in the Great Hall after breakfast? Or lunch? I’m really okay with either.”

“I’m not a morning person,” you say with a chuckle. “We could get lunch in Hogsmeade?”

“Oh, okay. Then meet by the Grand Entrance around noon?”

“Sounds like a plan, Lupin. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

As you walk away from him, he can’t help but smile. This was going better than planned. He didn’t have to ask you out; you asked him. And all he had to do was not be forward about it with you. Now, he just had to work up to kissing you, and then snogging. 

You’re more nervous than you expected to be in the morning. You had never been on a date before, and you weren’t even sure if this would count as one. Your roommates were confused as to why you didn’t go to Hogsmeade yesterday with them but were going today.

“It’s just backwards!” one had tried to explain when they heard of your plan. “Everyone goes to Hogsmeade on Saturday and does homework on Sunday!”

“Which leads to Hogsmeade being packed and then the library being packed. It makes sense to go today.”

You purposefully left out that you were meeting Remus and going with him. Just as he hadn’t told his friends that he was making progress with you. For now, until something proper came out of it, this Hogsmeade visit would be something you shared only with each other.

Remus is waiting for you when you finally leave your dorm. The walk to Hogsmeade is quiet. It’s not awkward though. You’re glad he’s not trying to force conversation. You fear that would be more uncomfortable. 

“So where do you want to go first?” you ask as you arrive. 

“I don’t mind as long as we hit up Honeydukes and Three Broomsticks at some point,” he says with a shrug. 

You can’t help but think he looks a bit cute with his hands shoved into his pockets. 

“Start at Three Broomsticks then? Get our lunch and go from there?” you suggest. 

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

As expected, the pub isn’t too busy. You find a table and order food and butterbeers from Rosmerta. Then it’s just the two of you at a table. He asks about your essay that you were working on yesterday and if you think Slughorn will like it. He talks about his own. Conversation covers a lot of school, but then it drifts to your friends and Quidditch. And then to the Marauders and their pranks. Time flies by so quickly. Your plates are emptied quickly and you go through several mugs of butterbeer. You only notice how much time has gone by you glance out the window by chance and the sun is lower in the sky than you had expected.

“Oh! We need to get going if you still want to go to Honeydukes.”

Remus looks to the window and nods. “I didn’t realize the time…”

He waves down Rosmerta and hands her some galleons. You smack his shoulder gently as you exit the pub together. 

“You paid? I was the one who invited you to Hogsmeade. I should’ve paid.”

He rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t the guy on a date though?”

You blush, which in turn causes him to blush. So this was a date. And you had initiated.

“Let me pay for your chocolate at least.”

“Oh, don’t go down that road,” he says with a laugh and a wide smile. “You are underestimating how much chocolate I’ll be getting.”

“Galleons worth?” 

“Galleons worth.”

“Remus Lupin! That cannot be healthy!”

“‘S not my fault my stash gets raided constantly.”

You laugh. The air is light between you. He really does get several galleons worth of chocolate; you thought he was kidding. You insist on paying for part of it. The owners of Honeydukes patiently wait for you to leave the store before locking the door behind you. The sun is set by the time you’re walking back to Hogwarts. The crescent moon is high in the night sky, bathing the path back to school in a pale light.

When you reach the castle, still standing outside, you say, “This was fun. I’m glad I got to go to Hogsmeade.”

“I’m glad I got to go with you.”

You feel your face heat. The romantic in you tells you, no, begs you to kiss his cheek. Tell him he’s why it was so fun. Talking over butterbeers was your favorite way to pass time and you really enjoyed getting to know him better. But you weren’t so bold. 

“Goodnight Remus,” you say before heading inside. 

He stood outside for a few minutes longer. He should have kissed your cheek. He was kicking himself for not doing so. But that might have been too bold and risked scaring you off. It was probably for the best that he didn’t. He needed to work up to it. The boys were waiting for him when he returned to his dorm.

“Where have you been all day?” James asks accusingly as soon as Remus walks through the door.

“None of your business, Mum,” Remus says, tossing the Honeydukes bag on his bed.

“Honeydukes?” Peter asks, sitting up. “You went to Hogsmeade? Just now?”

“You went to Hogsmeade without us?” James asks, putting two and two together. 

“You went yesterday,” Remus reminds him.

“You chose to stay back. Why go today?”

“Because-” he starts to say.

“You’re working on the bet, aren’t you?” Sirius cuts him off. The smile Sirius was sporting said that he knew he was right.

“Yes.”

James and Peter gasp. Sirius grins wider.

“So you going to tell us how it’s going?”

“No.”

“Why not?” Peter asks with a pout forming on his face.

“You’ll just know when I succeed.”

Sirius rolls his eyes and laughs. “Must be going well if you’re still confident you’re going to succeed.”

---

“Andrew, for the love of Merlin, leave me alone,” you complain on your way to class.

Whatever the Marauders did to him at Hogsmeade wasn’t enough. He seemed more urgent than ever to take you on a date, even with you telling him that you weren’t interested in him in the slightest. He stands in the doorway to your class, which he isn’t in.

“Come on, just one date. It’ll be the best one you’ve ever been on!”

Remus looks up from his conversation with the boys at his desk at Andrew’s voice. He hears you groan.

“Let me into my class!”

Remus is there in a moment. 

“Lark, let the lady through,” Remus says firmly.

Andrew spins around in the doorway, still blocking it but now looking at Remus. 

“Little Lupin to the rescue? You fancy her or something?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Remus answers, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Now let her through. I think she’s made her opinions of you quite clear.”

Andrew glances at you over his shoulder. 

“Hear that, dove? Lupin likes you.”

“I’d hope so. We went on a date.”

Andrew’s arms fall so he’s not blocking the door as well and Remus pulls you through, which makes Andrew stumble slightly out of the way.

“What do you mean you went on a date?” Andrew asks indignantly. “A date? An actual date? With him?”

“That’s what I said. Care to confirm?” you ask, looking up at Remus, who is still holding your arm.

“Yeah. It was quite lovely. She’s quite lovely.” He looks down at you with a soft smile. 

Then without thinking, you lean up and press a chaste kiss to his cheek. Andrew looks ready to scream and a few hollers erupt from behind you. You scan the room for the source. The Marauders. You’re not too surprised at that. Of course Remus’ friends would be watching him as he came to play hero. It’s less than thirty seconds, but by the time you look back over to the door, Andrew has vanished.

“Thanks, Remus,” you breathe.

“Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone, huh?”

“Hope so.”

He walks you to your desk before returning to his own, where James pats him enthusiastically on the back. Throughout the entire lesson, you two are looking over at each other. Most of the time, when one is looking, the other isn’t. You only make eye contact with him once all lesson, which caused both of you to turn a deep shade of crimson. 

By the end of the week, Andrew stops asking you out on the daily and appears to be purposefully avoiding you and Remus. You find ways to spend more time with him, scheduling study time in the library and comparing schedules so that you can walk to your classes together. You even join him and his friends for lunch every few days. They were rather shocked the first time, but quickly turned into a welcoming group. 

It became obvious to those around you that you were seeing Remus. It came as a surprise to many people, including your friends. 

“What do you mean you’re dating Remus Lupin? When do you talk to him?”

“What do you mean you went to Hogsmeade with him? Alone?”

“When did this happen and why didn’t we know about it?”

Excuses of minding your own business and not wanting to count your chickens before they hatched echoed in your dorm. It really had come out of nowhere, but you suppose it was because Remus pursued you in a way that no one else had. He wasn’t putting you on the spot to do the things he wanted and disrupting you when you were clearly busy. He liked to be in your presence and took your opinion into consideration before suggesting things. Even better, he put Andrew Lark in his place. 

You were headed to your usual table to meet Remus for a study session; you refused to call them study dates because you knew your mind would say that you can’t be productive on a date. You laugh at your thoughts: dates are not conducive for studying. You hear Remus’ voice as you walk through the shelves, collecting some books you know you need for your Herbology assignment. You stop mid-step when you hear additional voices at your table.

“Have you snogged her yet, Moony?” Sirius asks.

“No, not yet,” he answers with a sigh. 

Not yet. You smile.

“Well, could you get on with it? You’ve been spending so much time with her. We need you for this prank.”

“You were the one to suggest the bet. Sorry I’m taking my time.”

“But you’re going to break up with her once you do, right?” Peter asks. “Complete the bet and get out before you catch feelings. That was the point of this.”

You bite your lip, hoping that somehow this wasn’t about you, that maybe Remus had a voice twin and they were talking about the other boy’s girl. You knew that it wasn’t possible, but you had to hope for a moment. But then James spoke. 

“Even better, you got Lark off her back so she owes you. She owes you a snog and then you’re free. You’ll have gotten your kiss, Casanova.”

Lark. He had only been after you for a while. And Remus had been the reason he was leaving you alone. 

You leave your hiding place within the books, stepping into their line of sight. Remus’ eyes go wide as he sees you. His heart breaks when he sees the tears in your eyes. You had heard and he knew it. 

You lock eyes with him and you shake your head. Holding the books close to your chest, you turn to leave the library. How could you work with someone who was only with you to snog you for a bet? A damn bet? 

You ignore Remus calling after you. You don’t break into a run; you have too many books in your arms to run, but you’re walking as quickly as you can. From the sound of his footsteps, he is running. Running and calling your name, saying it isn’t what you think. That the boys don’t know what they are talking about. You spin on the spot to glare at him through tears when he finally catches up to you and places a hand on your shoulder. 

“Did you or did you not ask to sit at my table in the library because of, of, of that bet?” you spit. It comes out harsh. It was supposed to. You were angry and upset.

“I did, but-”

“There’s no buts about this, Remus,” you say firmly. You’re firm but your voice is laced with sadness and uncertainty. “All of this was because of a bet. And I’m not a bet. So yeah. Go fuck yourself.”

You leave him standing in the corridor. He could’ve followed you. Some part of him knew he should have so that he could explain. 

---

You avoid Remus at all costs. He tries to hunt you down in the library, in between classes, in the Great Hall. He’s even taken to sitting outside your dorm. Your roommates step around him, muttering insults. He doesn’t blame them. If it had been anyone else doing this, he would be saying the same insults under his breath to Sirius, James and Peter. He hated himself for agreeing to the stupid bet in the first place. He should have just gone after you on his own terms. 

About a week later, you spent all day studying in the library and you were honestly surprised that Remus didn’t show up once. You missed dinner, but you didn’t mind. If you had gone to dinner, you might have run into Remus and if you were safe in the library, you were staying there until you went to bed. Except you ran into Remus while trying to go to bed. He was asleep outside your dorm’s door. You knew you should’ve just gone into your dorm and ignored him, but you were a good person and wouldn’t let him sleep like that all night. You nudge his side gently with your foot.

“Lupin,” you say softly. “Lupin, wake up.”

He stirs, rubbing his eyes. When he sees that you’re the one who woke up and not some disgruntled prefect, he jumps to his feet and hugs you. You make a startled noise at the hug.

“Please, let me explain,” he whispers.

“You have five minutes. Then I’m going to bed.”

“Okay, thank you,” he says quickly. “Thank you. Okay, so yes, it did start as a bet.”

You groan and reach for the doorknob. He puts his hand on top of yours to stop it from turning. 

“I have four minutes and thirty seconds,” he says, causing you to roll your eyes. “A bet that I couldn’t get a girl and snog her. I accepted because Sirius was being rude. Stupid, I know. But please, please, please believe me when I say the bet stopped being relevant the moment you agreed that I could keep you company in the library while you worked on your Potions essay. I wasn’t doing it just to snog you and prove to the boys that I really could get a girl.”

“And I should believe you because?”

“Because if it was just for a bet, I would’ve kissed you when we got back from Hogsmeade the first time. I would’ve snogged you in front of Andrew and the boys. Just to prove that I could do it. I would’ve been done.” He pauses, trying to read the expression on your face. “I’ve been spending so much time with you because I genuinely like you so much. I like being your boyfriend. I like being around you. I like making you smile. I like making you laugh. Yes, I’d like to snog you very much. But not for a bet. I want to snog you to feel your lips against mine. I like studying with you, I like paying for your butterbeers. I like walking around with you. I like when you hang out with my friends. I’d like to hang out with your friends.” 

He pauses his ramblings to catch his breath briefly.

“That is, if you’ll forgive me for even partaking in this stupid goddamn bet. And you somehow convince your friends to forgive me too.”

You cross your arms and lean against the doorframe. You take in Remus’ appearance. You’re used to him looking perpetually tired, but he looks exhausted, so much worse for wear than usual. His hair is a mess and clothes uncharacteristically rumpled. His expression is so genuine and sad, practically begging you to understand how much he cares for you.  

“Please. I know you’re more than a bet. So much more. The only good thing about the bet is that it actually got me to get close to you.”

“I’ll forgive you under one condition,” you say.

His face lights up and he takes a step toward you. 

“Anything. You name it and it’s done.”

You smirk. “When you do snog me, please do it in front of Lark. A little revenge on that sorry bastard.”

Remus smiles widely and nods. Then he places a gentle kiss on your lips. It only lasts a second, over as soon as it began. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” He gives you an identical kiss. “One snog in front of Lark coming up.”

[winchestersisterimaginessss]

Request: John is being an abusive jerk as always, but can you set this in season 1 idk make up your own scenario but I imagine them being season 1.

Sam and Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Abuse? Asthma Attack kinda?

A/N: Okay I think I actually hate what I did for this UGH. Please lmk if you guys like it. I also have asthma so I added that little part in there it just came to me when I was writing so I was like okay let’s make it even more angsty.

A hunt had gone wrong and your dad was currently driving you and your siblings to where you had left Dean’s car before the hunt. The tension in the car was thick and it felt as though you couldn’t breathe. You had your long sleeves pulled out and had your hands tucked inside of them as you bundled the ends of them. You had them tucked under your chin as you rested your head on them— something you’ve always done to comfort yourself. Your leg was bouncing rapidly— something you’ve always done when you’re anxious and you’re trying to self soothe.

“Would you fucking knock it off? You’re shaking the whole damn car.” John grumbled angrily. You immediately jumped at his harsh voice piercing through the quiet car and quickly stopped bouncing your leg.

“Yes sir, I’m sorry.” You said quietly. Dean sent you a sympathetic glance through the rear view mirror knowing that’s how you comforted yourself. His first instinct was to protect you and stick up for you, but your pleading eyes shut him up. You bawled up the ends of your sleeves even tighter and subconsciously started wiggling your toes. Your anxiety was on high alert around your father and you hated that the most. You felt safe with your brothers, but when your dad was around you felt as though you could suffocate. Your thoughts of worry were interrupted when you felt a hand on your knee. You looked up and Sam sent you a sad smile. You knew that your dad was going to blow up any second about the hunt gone wrong and the future of that was terrifying you. You couldn’t handle more yelling and the dreadful feeling of your family falling apart in the aftermath. When you turned down the random dirt road you almost sighed out loud in relief. Dean’s car in your view made you feel calm. As soon as your dad stopped the car, you practically leaped out. It was like the weight lifted off of your chest and you could finally take a deep breath. Sam followed behind you and put his arm around your shoulder and you instantly felt better. Your brothers knew you better than you knew yourself.

“We’ll meet you at the motel.” You heard Dean say before you heard the car door shut. You got into the impala and as soon as all the doors shut, you spoke up.

“Dad’s mad.” You stated, quietly. Dean snorted and you snapped your head in his direction.

“What’s new.” He shrugged before turning to face you.

“Don’t let him get to you kiddo.” He said softly. He was concerned for you. He knew that their dad spiked your anxiety and he wanted to make sure you were okay. Your dad was always especially hard on you. Since Dean always had your back, it often led to even more problems and you didn’t want him to have to deal with that.

“Well- I just-“ You started, unsure of how you wanted to word it.

“I just hope he’s not going to blow up. I- I don’t know if I can handle that right now.” You finished weakly, knowing anything could set your father off.

“Everything’s going to be okay, bug. I will take you somewhere else no problem if you don’t feel comfortable going back to the motel. Just say the words.” Sam stated strongly, wanting nothing more than to protect you from your father’s wrath.

“Yeah kid. You can go with Sammy and I’ll go back to the motel and deal with dad.” Dean said, glancing back at you through the mirror.

“No, no it’s okay I didn’t mean to cause a problem. I’ll be fine, I promise.” You said, not sure if you’d be able to keep that promise, but you’d never let Dean deal with dad alone.

“We’ve got your back kid, always.” Dean reassured and just then you noticed you were bouncing your leg up and down. Your breath hitched and you immediately stopped.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I was bouncing my leg. I’m sorry!” You said, panicking. The last thing you wanted to do was annoy your brothers. Before you had another second to even think, Sam spoke.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize for that. Sometimes we just need to move a little when we’re anxious and it’s totally normal. It doesn’t bother us in the slightest okay?” Sam asked. His heart hurt at the thought that you were now hyper aware of your anxiety tic because your dad had yelled at you and called you annoying for it. It’s something you’ve always done and your brothers are fully aware of it. When they see your leg bouncing, they know there’s something bothering you and it helps them know where you’re at mentally.

“Oh okay. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t annoying you too.” You said quietly, now feeling embarrassed.

“We’re here for you bug alright? You know you can always be comfortable around us.” Sam said softly.

“Yeah I know.” You sighed. Your brothers hated how you became panicky and scared whenever your father was around. When it was just the three of you without your dad, you were a completely different kid. As the motel came into view you let out a loud gasp.

“What’s wrong?!” Dean asked panicked at your fearful outburst.

“I couldn’t find my inhaler before we left and dad was mad that I was taking so long so he left the room to go help load up the car with you two so I was rushing around and I ripped all my clothes out of my bag and I left the room a little bit of a mess and it’s going to set him off. He’s going to get so mad and he’s going to yell at me.” You explained as fast as you could, hoping you’d have enough time before your dad got back to clean up.

“Okay we’re a few minutes ahead of him so it’s okay. Just go inside and shove everything into your bag real quick. It’s alright.” Dean reassured you as he whipped into the parking lot. You didn’t even wait for him to fully put the car in park before you were running to the room. A few drawers were open and your bag was torn apart all over the floor. You were just starting to shove things into your bag when the door burst open. You looked up in panic and saw your dad. You turned back towards your clothes and tried to throw more into your bag before you set your dad off.

“What the hell is this fucking disaster?” Your dad barked, charging at your bag that was in the center of the room and kicking it at you. Before you had time to answer, Sam and Dean walked into the room. They immediately noticed your terrified expression, but you knew if you acknowledged them before your dad then you would get into even more trouble.

“I-I-I couldn’t f-find m-my inhaler. I-I’m sorry.” You said, scared. Dean started making his way toward the both of you, seeing the anger in his dad’s eyes and the terror in yours.

“I-I-I don’t give a shit! Clean this mess up!” He yelled, making fun of your nervous stutter. The only reason for even having one was because of him. You only ever had one around him. You were cowered on the floor with your dad getting closer to you. Dean immediately placed himself in front of you and put his hand on his Dad’s chest.

“Back up.” He said, firmly.

“No Dean, this is bullshit!” Your dad yelled back at him. Dean looked towards you and your eyes immediately shot to the ground.

“You need to frigging chill the hell out right now.” Dean warned. Your heart was pounding and you knew that it was only going to get worse. You scrambled to put your clothes back in your bag as tears stung your eyes, but you couldn’t let them fall. Crying would be a sign of weakness in your father’s eyes and another reason for him to berate you. You heard a pair of footsteps walking towards you and you looked up to see Sam. As he squatted down to help you pick up your clothes, you saw Dean walking your dad out of the room.

“Oh so you wanna play the role of daddy now?” Your dad asked, stopping in his tracks.

“Stop. Don’t you dare go there.” Dean warned once again.

“That hunt was a fucking disaster, this room is a fucking disaster, she’s a fucking disaster so have fun taking care of that.” He yelled before he stormed out of the motel room. You flinched as he slammed the heavy door shut, but you continued to force your eyes on the floor. You were fighting back a river of tears and were biting the inside of your lip so hard that you started to taste the metallic blood pool in your mouth.

“Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say.

“Hmmm?” You asked, still not looking up from the floor as you continued to shove your clothes in your bag.

“He didn’t mean that.” He said softly, knowing that you would never believe that he didn’t mean it and that the damage was already done.

“Oh I know, I’m okay.” You said unconvincingly and looked up at them for the first time to send them a quick smile that immediately faltered.

“Bug,” Sam trailed off before you burst into tears. Sam who was still on his knees from helping you put your clothes away, immediately scooted over to you and embraced you. You gripped onto his shirt and buried your head into his chest as sobs wracked through your body.

“Shhhh, shhh, I know, I know, I’m sorry sweetheart.” Sam said, knowing all too well.

You sobbed harder, gripping his shirt tighter, afraid that he’d somehow disappear from under you.

“I’m here, I’m here bug, I’m not going anywhere.” He said, feeling you grip his shirt tighter. Sam looked at Dean whose jaw was clenched at the scene before him.

“I-I’m trying my best!” You sobbed, your father’s words of him mocking you and calling you a disaster ringing in your ears. Dean couldn’t handle seeing you in this kind of distress any longer.

“Kiddo.” He said as he put a comforting hand on your back. You tearfully turned away from Sam’s chest and looked towards him.

“Don’t you ever let him make you feel less than you are, especially not when it comes from his own frustration and you certainly don’t deserve to carry that weight.” He said, his eyes piercing through you to make sure you understand.

“B-but De!” You sobbed. “Y-you don’t deserve it either! None of y-you do! I’m sorry, I-I’m just so s-sorry that I’m a-always causing problems with d-dad and y-you’re f-forced to fix it.” You cried, trying to catch your breath.

“Those problems aren’t because of you and they will never be because of you, kid.” Dean reassured, bringing your shaking body into his. You cried harder into his chest.

“I know, I know.” Dean said softly, knowing you needed to get these emotions out. With every cry, it got harder to catch your breath and Dean immediately caught on.

“Hey, hey, hey, breathe for me kiddo.�� He said, rubbing your back, but you continued to gasp for air.

“Sam, grab her inhaler. She’s going to give herself an asthma attack.” Dean said calmly, supporting your weak body. Sam rushed to get your inhaler and puffed the medicine into your mouth. As your lungs opened up, you visibly relaxed into deans arms.

“Atta girl.” Dean said, sighing in relief. Your face was stained with tears and your eyes were bloodshot.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, resting your head on his chest.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m always here for you, and I’ll always have your back, no matter what. You’ve got so much to offer kid. Sammy and I believe in you more than you can imagine. You’re not alone in this.” He said. You lifted your head up to look him in the eyes.

“Thank you.” You said before looking towards Sam.

“You two mean so much to me and I don’t know what I would do without the two of you. Thank you for always having my back. I love you both so much, more than you’ll ever know.” You finished.

“We love you too bug.” Sam said, coming over to you and kissing the side of your head.

“Grab your stuff, I’m getting us a different room from dad.” Dean said, walking towards the door.

“Okay.” You said, not arguing with that.

“We should probably get some candy too for our big movie night we’re going to have.” He said. You snapped your head in his direction with a big teary smile. He shot you a wink and walked out of the room. You smiled to yourself. No matter what your brothers would always be there for you and pull you out of the dark.

[todayisafridaynight]

I’m fairly new to the fandom, but I do have a question if you can answer it! Why do people ship Daigo with Aoki / Masato? I tried looking to see if they’ve interacted before, but couldn’t find anything! Sorry for asking I’m just </3 dumb AND I LOVE YOUR ART OF THEM!!! Nerd looking ahhhhhh

hi ! welcome to the community i hope you're having a lovely time so far and ty for enjoyin my stuff :) no need for apologies it's a very fair question to have :]

i cant speak for everyone (all. ten people into masadai anyway) but Personally To Me i just think the idea of them together is very funny. thats quite literally it im afraid..

[orcelito]

uhm. uhmmm. ladue chapter 18 sure is the goal.

... though im still kinda in the mood for angst. this is a problem.

[almadelsur]

💋 The Secrets One Keeps

summary: You're in love with jj but he's with kie, so in moments of pure desperation you often find yourself turning to the person he hates the most...rafe

warnings: some good old angsty pining, very very slight smut if you squint, fem!reader, one or two uses of y/n, plz let me know if I missed anything

a/n: SHE'S BACKKKK, so I've decided to completely reformat and re-post this fic with a few tweaks and editing considering i first wrote this like 3 years ago, and yes for those of you who have been asking, I fully intend to finallly continue this fic....more info on that later ;)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

JJ’s eyes change the moment Kiara steps into any room. Immediately his presence is ripped away from your immediate atmosphere, popping the little bubble you'd spent all afternoon crafting as he sprung up to greet the olive-skinned enigma that captured his affections.

“Kie!” The joy in his tone was incomparable to anything he’d directed at anybody else. Nothing could draw out such happiness from the blonde. You hated that about her.

In an attempt at self-defense, your brain shut itself off. Shielding you from processing the scene in front of you, your emotions ran cold like cement pouring down and across your neurons. It was the only way you could survive such a beating to your heart.

You figured that by distancing yourself mentally, you wouldn’t have to raise suspicion and distance yourself physically. In reality, you knew the real reasoning was your inability to stay away from JJ but the facade helped you cope.

“Hey J” she embraced him and his body relaxed around her as if she was the only source of his happiness. The only way he’d find alleviation from what he perceived as a shitty life being through her. “Sorry I’m late my parents had me running like crazy at the wreck today.”

Scattered greetings filled the air from the rest of the pogues, yet you could only focus on the way his eyes fixated on her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Here come sit baby” he offered her the seat he had just previously been place holding. What you thought had been quality time with your best friend, presented itself to you now as momentary attention to pass the time until his actual desire arrived.

Settling herself down and offering you a wide smile, her shoulder bumped against yours gently as a sign of acknowledgment.

“Hey dude” she directed at you, but you didn’t reply. You just couldn’t bring yourself to pretend. Not today anyway. Instead, you offered her a small smile, it was minimal but it was the best you could do under the circumstances.

“Yo" A crumpled tissue paper flew at your head, jj attempting to refocus your attention on him, "didn’t you say you were gonna get some water or something?” He spoke up, the scheme evident in his tone.

“um yeah I guess” You lifted yourself up and took a few steps before jj used the opportunity to slump himself down where you had been sat and sprawled his arms across his girlfriend’s shoulders.

“snooze ya loose sucker” he joked as he turned to Kiara to start up some mindless conversation. Leaving you behind in the dust.

Your teeth gritted as you focused on making your way to the kitchen hoping the distance from the scene unfolding would lift the iron grip on your heart.

You made the fatal mistake of glancing back and you were met with the image of jj nuzzling up to kiara in a picturesque display of love. The lump building at the base of your throat indicated that it was your time to get the hell out of there before you broke down in front of everyone. 

“Shit guys, y’know what I just realized I gotta go” You spoke quickly, your tone matching your pace as you rushed to the exit of the chateau. 

“You’re still coming to the party later though right?” John B asked, not tearing his eyes away from the screen in front of him. 

“Mhm yeah sure” you opened the door ready to depart. 

“Shit I forgot about that! Me and jj are gonna be late, we got dinner at the wreck tonight.” kiara added as you stepped out, unable to control the escape of a rogue tear.

“Date night babyyyy” You heard JJ cheer before you slammed the door behind you. 

“Is Y/N okay? She seemed a bit off.” Kie nudged JJ as she questioned. 

JJ furrowed his eyebrows momentarily. Glancing out the window, he saw you jog away from the house, and a brief flash of worry flashed through his mind. As quick as it came, it dissipated. He shook his head figuring that if there had been something wrong, he’d have been the first to know. 

“Nah she’s okay don't worry.” he offered to kie.

Boy was he mistaken. 

——————————————————————

“Fuuuck me” you moaned out, sinking into him one last time. You were hot, sweaty, and heaving as you pulled him out of you.

“I thought I just did” Rafe taunted leaning back to lie down, arms crossed behind his head causing his taut abdomen to flex.

You scrambled off the bed, picking up your garments and shoving them back on your body forcefully.

“What, no pillow talk?” He tried again.

“Rafe..” you trailed off. Whenever you’d finish fucking, you’d struggle to even look at him. The self-hatred flooded your body as soon as the orgasm poured out.

“Hey you called me” he eyed you intently but you knew he didn’t actually care. To rafe cameron everything was just a game. At this point it was pretty much common knowledge. “In fact” he moved closer to you so that he could speak directly into your ear “It’s always you that calls me.”

“Don’t be a dick” you stood up and eyed your heels contemplating whether you could face the walk back in them. “You know it makes me feel like shit.” It might have sounded brutal but that’s how things were with rafe.

“Yeah, it’s like you punctuate your orgasms with self-hate.”

“I'm a pogue, rafe.” You argued back as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“So? Kooks and pogues can fuck you know.” You couldn’t comprehend why you were even having this conversation. Why now, why tonight.

“Yeah maybe, not you though.” You didn’t want to tell him the reason explicitly.

“I fuck pogues.”

“You fuck anyone.” The words came out almost instantly and without thinking, yet rafe took no offense.

“Exactly so what’s the issue?”

“The issue is, rafe.” You paused trying to find the words without actually having to say the words. “The issue is that if my friends found out they’d hate me, probably more than I already hate myself.”

He just chuckled, the look in his eyes changing as he figured you out.

“What's funny?” You challenged.

“You don’t have to bullshit me princess.” He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye. “You just don’t want jj knowing about your little escapades huh?” Bingo.

“He’s with Kiara.” You shrugged him off.

“Uh huh, you like him but you can’t have him.” Every word he spoke striking a nerve deep within you. “So you’re fucking me to fuck him over.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You grabbed your heels and shoved them on, wincing as you buckled them up.

“Don’t I?” He threw his joggers on lazily as he stood, the level dynamics changing significantly. The older boy towered over you. “Where are they tonight?”

“Back at John B’s, we had a little get-together.” You crossed your arms. More often than not you usually called rafe after a few drinks left you feeling lonely. “Sorry, your invite must have gotten lost in the mail.” You attempted to jab at him with sarcasm yet he clearly held the upper hand with his line of questioning. 

“So all of them are there now?” He stepped towards you.

“Mhm,” You lied.

“Even jj?” Moving closer until your neck was craned upwards to meet his eyes.

Taking your silence as an answer, he reached up and ran his palms across your upper arms, prompting you to uncross them.

“He was uh- him and kie should be getting there soon” You mumbled.

“So would i be wrong in guessing, that might have prompted your call then?” You let yourself be guided by his movements leaning your neck further back as his hand trailed up to your jawbone.

“rafe…” you called out insignificantly.

He leaned in and pressed his lips against your neck, right over where he could feel your pulse, and pressed down.

You couldn’t help the gasp that left your mouth. Because as much as your heart belonged to jj, rafe was just so fucking good at raising your temperature.

“Round two?” He mumbled against your neck.

“Yeah..” you attempted yet it came out as a whisper. He grabbed you swiftly and lifted you, moving you across the room and throwing you down onto his bed, crawling on top of you in a predatory manner as he did so. As your back hit the bed, the ringing of your phone brought you back from the haze he had you under. 

“Wait rafe stop stop” you pushed him off and grabbed the screeching mobile, pressing it up to your ear. “Hello?”

“Dude, where are you?” The sound of jj’s voice came through over the pumping sound of music and party chatter. “Me and Kie just got back and John B says no one’s seen you for like over an hour.”

“Oh I’m uh, I had to go do something for my mom” The lie pouring out of your mouth caused rafe to chuckle which was of course met by a slap from you signaling for him to be quiet.

“Oh well, when are you getting back? I have to tell you about this date. You’re gonna be so proud of me I actually think I’m ready to tell Kie I love her” you screwed your eyes shut as he spoke.

“Yeah I- you know what I can’t make it back my mom needs me to stay and help out but uh I’ll see you tomorrow or something.” You hung up before he could even reply, throwing your phone down uncaring of its state.

“What’s wrong? They getting hitched?” Rafe spoke up from behind you.

You turned to Rafe, the fire in your veins pushing your arms to grab him, roughly pulling him back onto you.

“Just shut up and fuck me rafe.”

And fuck you he did.

——————————————————————

The next morning you woke up to the sight of rafe’s bare back. Not much of a cuddler, you figured.

Quietly you pushed the covers off and began to dress yourself back up. As you got to your shoes you sighed and shook your head, as if there was any way in hell you were going to walk home in heels. You scooped up your shoes and your now-cracked phone shaking your head, slightly ashamed at your outburst.

Without even a second glance at the sleeping body you were leaving behind, you made your way over to the door. As you turned the knob and stepped out to leave, a husky voice spoke up.

“I’ll keep my ringer on for you babe.”

You rolled your eyes looking back at him, “Fuck you rafe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m counting on.” He didn’t even open his eyes as he answered, instead just rustling around in the bed and turning to the other side, once again facing his back to you.

You scoffed as you exited. Your internal rant clouded your vision, body on autopilot with an excellent self-navigation of the Cameron house from the countless times you’d made this exit.

“Y/N?” The gentle voice wiped your thoughts clean as the shock stilled you dead in your tracks, slowly turning to come face to face with none other than Sarah.

“Sarah” you drawled out. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my house?” Her head was cocked to the side, equally shocked to see you.

“No I just mean- I thought you were spending the night at John B’s.” You forced the small talk, avoiding the topic of why you were here, sneaking out at 8 in the morning.

“He had to work today, did you spend the night here?” She glanced up at the door of rafe’s bedroom.

“Umm-“ There had only been two other instances where you had been at a complete loss for words. The day jj told you he and Kiara were dating, the morning after your first sexual encounter with rafe, and now this.

“Are you sleeping with my brother?!” She whisper-shouted, eyes wide as the realization hit her. Busted.

“No?”

“Oh my god!” She grabbed you by the wrist and dragged you to her room, slamming the door as soon as you were both inside. “How long has this been going on?!” Her tone was loud and her hands wild as she interrogated you.

“Just a little under a year.” You sat on her bed and looked at your lap as you spoke. Reminiscent of a child being scolded.

“A year?! Oh my god!” She repeated. “Who knows about this?!”

With that, you looked up at her desperately. “No one. No one knows so please don’t tell them.” You didn’t have to name names for her to know who you were referring to.

“Are you two like” she paused “together?” She scrunched her nose up, disgusted at the thought of her bully of an older brother dating anyone.

“No god no. It’s just sex” you were just as uncomfortable as Sarah was, having to tell her about boning her older brother.

“Disgusting.” She turned away from you with her arms crossed, looking out the window.

“Look I’m not proud of it okay? Just-“ You sighed “Just please don’t tell anyone” pleading again.

Sarah let out a long sigh and uncrossed her arms. She walked over to you and joined you on the bed, her eyes showing concern mixed with something you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

“I thought you were into jj” she spoke softly, there it was. Pity.

“Yeah well, jj is with kie and instead of sitting around wallowing in self-pity, I decided to do something about it.” As the words left your mouth, you realized how weak the explanation was.

“So you just use rafe to bang the jj out of you.”

“It’s not like Rafe cares, if anything he’s also using me.” You tried to reason.

“I don’t doubt that. But I mean, that’s- It’s not healthy, you’ll never move on if you don’t actually process your emotio-“

“Look Sarah, I don’t need to do any of that shit okay? What I have here works, when I fu- when I’m with rafe, I don’t think about jj.” Tears began to swell in your eyes “Sleeping with rafe helps me forget about everything, even if it’s only for a little while he uh- he makes me feel good.” To an extent, there was truth behind your words, while you and rafe fucked the rest of the world went away. It was only after, that the crippling self-hatred hit you along with the return of your immense feelings for jj. 

Sarah shuffled over and threw her arm around you. “That’s not good for you, it’s just momentary. It’s easy and it's a cycle, you’re never going to get better going down this path. Especially not with rafe.”

“Rafe he’s- he’s not that bad.”

“Yes he is. But i bet it gives you satisfaction fucking him knowing jj hates him. Feels like revenge right?” She’d always been so perceptive your Sarah, you hated how she could see right through you.

Tears ran down your cheek silently. “You’re not gonna tell anyone right?” You sniffled.

She gave you one of those classic salt-of-the-earth Sarah Cameron smiles, the kinda smile that would light up any room she walked into. “Takin' it to the grave babe.”

A loud beeping caused both your heads to whip towards the window. “Shit, I completely forgot I was supposed to go on the HMS with pope and jj, we were gonna chill there until John B and Kie finished work.” She rose to her feet and extended an arm towards you. “Wanna come? Or we could drop you home if you’re not up for it.”

With a sigh you took her hand and pulled yourself up, walking beside her as you mentally prepped yourself to face the blonde you desperately pined for.

“Well rise and shine campers.” jj yelled out of the window of the drivers seat.

“Y/N! Where you been dude? you totally bailed last night.” Pope was next to speak as you and Sarah filed into the Twinkie. As JJ began to drive you avoided any form of eye contact in his general direction.

“I had to go help my mom out, blackout at mine again.” You didn’t even look at pope either, instead focusing your attention on the blur of trees and houses pacing by the window as JJ sped down the winding roads.

“Isn’t that what you were wearing last night?” pope, observant as always, pointed out.

“Uh yeah, I didn’t really get any time to change cause…”

“I called her last night when I got home, I was so drunk I don’t think I was ready to stop the party.” Sarah covered for you.

“Yeah I wrapped up helping my mom out and then this one calls me talkin bout a sleepover or something so I didn’t exactly have much time to change.” 

Thankfully pope had lost interest as soon as he had asked the question, otherwise, your overcompensating ass would have been caught out straight away. You always had to add to the lie until you felt like you had sold it completely.

Keeping your eyes trained on the outside meant that jj’s frown directed at you through the windscreen mirror went completely undetected. He always knew whenever there was something up with you and right there and then he knew something definitely was.

“Hey, you okay?” He didn’t need to address you explicitly for you to know he was talking to you.

“Yeah just tired.” You shrugged him off in an attempt to distance yourself from him yet again.

He knew you were lying but he didn’t understand why, you never lied to each other. Apart from John B, the pair of you were closer to each other than with anybody else in the group. You’d been best friends since kindergarten, and since then you’d sworn 3 things to each other.

1- You’d always share your snacks.

2-You’d always be best friends even if you argued.

 3- You would never ever lie or keep secrets from each other.

Of course, as the both of you grew older the rules became more and more lax. The snack sharing was limited only to when you felt nice enough and sometimes you’d go for days without making up if you had argued particularly badly. Having kept two friendship-breaking secrets from him, the childhood rules seemed pretty insignificant by now.

“Mhm,” he responded, flickering his eyes between you and the road. “Are we taking you home to change first?”

“Yeah, I don’t know if I’ll join you guys afterward though.” You chewed down on your nail anxiously as the tension from being in the same space as jj paired with the guilt from having fucked rafe prior, suffocated you.

JJ made a face as he focused on the road, something was wrong with you and he’d be dammed if he wasn’t going to put his everything into finding out what that was.

[alphabetboyluvr]

habits of a clandestine nature | jjk

pairing: collegejk x female oc (angst, smut)

warnings: college!jk, rich!jk, he's a college nepo baby!!!, waitress!oc, flashbacks to summer, (mild) enemies to lovers, oc lives with tae (they're besties), jk is besties with jimin, mentions of parents infidelity, mentions of oc's virginity (lost prior to the story starting), a little angsty, jk is nawt a fuckboi, but he is stewpid, unprotected sex, bathroom escapades, multiple positions, oral (f), mentions of blowjobs, house parties, jackson wang!!!!!!!, yoongi has no lines but is also one of my fave characters lmao

wordcount: 16k

note from holly: this was written as a commission over on ko-fi!! it went through soooo many changes and edits - at one point it was over 24k lmao. i have so much lore and backstory for this couple, but I'll save it for a rainy day!! one of the main prompts was the 2004 classic a cinderella story, and there are little nods to it throughout the story, including the diner name!! a commenter on wattpad said the pairing reminded them of danny and sandy from grease and like... i see it lmao. anywaysss enjoy!! <33

minors dni // cross posted to wattpad

It's a well-trained habit, your fleeting glance towards the door of Montgomery's Diner when the bell rings.

Though the clatter of cheap porcelain being stacked on a tray almost manages to drown out the chiming metal, it's never quite enough. Softening your hardened expression, you continue on with your work, careful to not let your contempt show too much.

You already know who it is—or at least, who it could be. Only saw the girl leading the pack, but know that where Claudia goes, the rest of The Untouchables will surely follow.

Gorgeous in a way that money can't buy, and careless in a way that money makes up for, she's never taken personal issue with you. Barely even registers your existence.

From your quick look, you know that it's not just the girls today. It's the guys, too.

All with parents on the college board, they're regarded as campus royalty. Are aptly known as The Untouchables, 'cause the rules that apply to you don't apply to them. They'll likely continue with their lives in a similar manner for years to come, and will pass these attributes off to their offspring, whom they'll name after countries or distant relatives who were once regarded to be regal.

Gathering up the last of the discarded napkins on the table, you take one final, fleeting look just to see if a familiar face is with them.

It's not that you actively want to see him.

You just haven't seen him in the best part of a fortnight, which is odd.

He's been in your section of the Diner near enough every single night of the past three months—but school is starting up again, and he's got appearances to keep.

God-forbid Jeon Jungkook—son of the Admissions Director and heir-apparent to an unholy amount of real estate tied to the university—ever associates with the lowly scholarship kids like you.

The only reason The Untouchables ever come to this Diner is because it's the last remaining place close to the university that hasn't been snapped up and integrated into the campus. You guess it must feel like freedom to them, in a way.

In fact, you know this is the case. Jungkook has told you himself.

Has told you a lot.

Told you far too much.

Such candid honesty from him, shared during the lonely heat of a sweltering summer, is what makes it so jarring when he looks away as soon as his dark eyes meet yours.

Tall, broad, handsome; he's everything the gossip magazines you read during your downtime swoon over, but also everything they warn against. Too pretty for his own good, the resident agony aunt would call him if she were ever to see him. Would assume his ego is far larger than his shoe size; superiority complex embedded into his skin like the ink of his tattoos.

And while you think that perhaps those assumptions could be true, you also know the reality of him; how gentle his hands can be. Helpful, too. Delicate. Ornate, almost, when they fold bills into five petal flowers. Strong, when they grip the back of your neck. Commanding, when they're wrapped around his leather steering wheel.

You shouldn't know the way his car smells. Shouldn't know how he presses the heel of his palm against the wheel when he's reversing, or just how easy it is to clamber into the backseats over the centre console.

But you do, and it rests on your tongue like a dirty little secret desperate to escape: I know you.

You're not sure if you know him better than The Untouchables, but you know him independent of them. Not many people do.

It's rare to find him without Jimin cracking a joke by his side, or Claudia making a slightly mean remark masked as innocent ignorance as she leads him astray.

But summer happened, and so did Jungkook. With his friends away at their holiday homes, and his father's infidelity ripping his family apart at the seams, he'd needed something to stitch himself back together. Let you thread yourself through his very being, and once you'd tied yourself in a pretty little bow around his heart, he'd cut you off.

Is that not what all craftsmen do, though? Discard what no longer serves a purpose?

Memories of him, in all the places you never should have let him in, ravage your thoughts.

The scent of his aftershave lingers on the childhood plushie he used to tease you for having on your bed, but would also automatically hug into his chest every single time he entered your room.

The things he did—and the things he didn't do—corrupt your dreams and leave you restless when you wake.

The smudged mascara under your eyes hides the bags from your lack of sleep, and your only respite is that the little puffs beneath his eyes are extra prominent today. He's tried, too.

For a minute, you feel vindicated.

It doesn't last.

For the past few months, if he's been sleeping badly, you've known about it. Kept him company in this very Diner, or in the basement of a party house he was dumb enough to take you to, forgetting he'd have to return there after summer finished, too.

The walls might not talk, but Jackson Wang certainly does. Jungkook knows it's only a matter of time until his dirty little secrets—no matter how pure they actually are—become the talk of the town.

He always slept well in your bedroom, though.

Funny, that.

He's dressed simply, today: white t-shirt, black jeans, chunky black boots on his feet. It's still warm out, even if the sun does begin to set a little earlier than it had been during the hotter months. He's got no need for a jacket, and you despise how undeniably gorgeous his arms are in the dewy humidity. Tattoos trailing up and down his skin, you'd be forgiven for thinking he was a man of complexities.

Turns out he's just like every other good-for-nothing fuck boy who wasn't worth your time.

The Untouchables sit towards the front of the Diner. Your section is at the back, and there's no way in hell you're deviating from your set section. Not today. Not when he's with them.

"I thought we were free," your colleague, Maria, grumbles as you bring your tray to the counter.

Like you, she's a scholarship kid. Is the one who got you the job at the Diner after you both moved into the shared house you live in off-campus. Three of you live there—you, Maria, and Taehyung—and you all share the same disdain for The Untouchables.

"It never ends," you tease in reply. Glance over your shoulder, back at the table.

They're laughing and joking about something you can't quite decipher. All of them, except Jungkook.

There's a sternness to him. One of which you'd forgotten about. With one hand on the table, the other in his lap, his thumb fidgets over his tense knuckles. Sunglasses rest on the crown of his head, pushed up into his hair to hold it back off his face. Staring at nothing much, he's chewing up his bottom lip until he feels the familiar burn of your eyes on him. Looks your way.

It's curious, how looking at you halts his body from its self-soothing actions. He no longer nibbles on his lip. His tightly balled first eases.

"What do you think, Kookie?" Claudia drawls, drawing his attention back to the group. "You coming tonight?"

"Hm?" He questions, eyes pulling away from you. He begins to rub his thumb over his knuckles again. "Sorry, was just looking at the menu board. What are we talking about?"

"Party at the Conservatory," Jimin says from across the table. Though he's the one sitting beside Claudia, everyone knows Jungkook is the one that she's really interested in. Has been since their first day of college. "First of the semester. It's one of their birthdays. Reckon it'll be a big one."

On campus, but close enough to the boundaries that it's never infringed upon by security or university officials, the Conservatory isn't what it seems. A boarding house for the creme-de-la-creme of the Botany and Conservation PhD students, it's surrounded by land. Has rows upon rows of greenhouses for their projects.

Of the few times you've been there, you've always thought it was like a maze. The perfect place to get lost. The perfect place to get found, too.

Unfortunately for the PhD students, the house custodian took on the role for one thing and one thing only: to throw the biggest ragers on campus. Knows fuck all about growing anything that isn't illegal. Only managed to get the role, 'cause like the rest of The Untouchables, his dad works high up in the college. He's a few years older than them. Belongs to a different generation of campus royalty, but is keen on making sure his legacy remains.

After all, there ain't no party like a Jackson Wang party.

Namjoon—one of the Botanists and the birthday boy himself—has started padlocking the greenhouses.

Another one of them—Yoongi—minored in mechanical engineering. Has a coin-operated lock on his bathroom door. Makes enough money from a single Jackson Wang party to sustain himself for an entire month.

Hoseok and Jin, the remaining two, are just as messy as Jackson. Have only started PhDs because they don't know what else to do and don't want their youth to abruptly end. Live for the parties; survive for the studying.

"Now, who's told you that?" Jungkook smiles, as if the prospect of showing up at the Conservatory doesn't make him feel a little bit sick. "Jackson?"

"Obviously."

"Well, of course he's gonna tell you it'll be big," Jungkook laughs. "Wants to rope as many of you fuckers in as he can."

"And it works every time," Jimin smirks back. "If everyone thinks it'll be a rager, everyone will want to go. He's a marketing genius, if you ask me."

Jungkook rolls his eyes. Is fond in how he interacts with his friends. Has grown up with most of them. Whether or not they're everyones cup of tea is debatable, but they're his people.

And yet he finds himself glancing back over to the counter. You're not there anymore. Are out back, he assumes. Knows the layout, now. Where the walk-in freezer is. The little nook that you sit in during your break. He doubts any of his friends have ever been in a commercial kitchen, let alone one at a place like this.

While yes, his friends have only ever been good to him, he knows that it isn't the case for everyone they interact with. Is well aware that his friends would be confused beyond belief if they ever found out he knows how to click through the Diner's cash register and find the discount section. Would be even more perplexed if they were to see his initials hidden in one of the codes.

But summer was lonely.

Or at least it was.

Lonely, until it wasn't. Isolating, until he sought solace in someone he can't even bring himself to speak to in front of his friends.

Casting his eyes back down to the table, well aware that he's got no reason to feel as cut up as he does, he fakes a laugh. Looks up again at his friends with a grin so sincere that they'd never guess the way it feels like his heart is in his throat. "Alright. You're on. What time?"

The conversation dissolves into plans—what to wear, what drink to take.

After a summer apart, Jungkook thought it would be nice to be with his friends again. Thought he'd be excited; that he'd welcome them all back with open arms. Ask them about their summers, and lament his time spent here.

When Jimin asks him why he didn't go to the Italian villa his parents normally insist they spend the summer at, Jungkook shrugs.

"Dad has some stuff to sort out, so it was better to stay here," he says, minimising the reality of what really happened. Even you don't know for certain. All you know is that his father did something incredibly immoral, to the point where Jungkook can't even stand to look at him.

Is why he spent all those nights in the diner.

Was confusing at first. He was always angry. Always frowning. Always ordering black coffees and nothing else, huddled up in the corner booth, away from the world.

But with summer comes monsoons, and with monsoons come terrible conditions for walking home.

He expected you to say no when he offered you a ride. You expected to say no, too—but then a please and thank you had escaped your lips.

A routine grew. Habits formed.

Curious little thing, habits are. 21 days. That's all the time they take to develop.

Jungkook spent 63 days of summer with you in varying capacities. Enough time to learn a habit three times over.

The one that haunts him most is how it felt to have your hand beneath his on his gear stick. Finds the absence of you when he drives unbearable. Knows he's got no one to blame but himself; not just for creating distance, but also for minimising it in the first place.

He's the one who offered you a lift. He's the one who messaged you on your days off to see if you fancied going for a drive. He's the one who didn't turn the AC on just to get you shaking your jacket off your shoulders.

And he's the one that drove you out to the coast one evening for no other reason than wanting to hear the waves. He's the one who opened up to you about his family. He's the one that made things more than what they were.

Had walked along the shore with you, too scared to hold your hand beneath the lunar light. Opted for playful banter instead, nudging you into the lapping waves.

But the waves got bigger, and Jungkook's unbridled desire to have you close did just the same. Like always, he took things too far. Drenched in sea water, you'd laughed with him for the entire ride home.

Invited him in. Said, "The salt will ruin your clothes. We should wash them."

"Hand wash only," he'd said, pinging his damp t-shirt against his chest. It stuck to him in such a way you learned all of his edges before you ever saw him naked—not like there was much time between these two instances. Ended up in your shower with him, clothes beneath your feet, the excuse of hand washing disregarded the second he had you naked.

You learned three things about Jungkook in that shower.

The first is that he giggles. Lips on yours, hands clutching your jaw, whenever the water was a little too intrusive, he'd separate with a laugh. Would kiss you again, a smile still on his face. Would pretend as if he wasn't giggling.

But he was, and it was lovely.

The second was that he's the type to lean his head forward, not tip it back. With his hands pressed to the shower tiles behind you as your fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, he let his head dip to his chest. Gave him ample opportunity to press kisses to the top of your head—or at least it did until you got to your knees and started taking his hard cock in your mouth.

"Shit," he had husked. Whined. Praised. "Fuck. You're so fuckin' good at that."

It was around then that you became aware he was a head pusher, too.

Almost as if he was saving the best until last, the third thing you learned was how he likes to cum; in your sheets, cock buried in your pussy, your hands clasped above your head. Missionary, 'cause he likes to kiss you through it. In your bed, 'cause he likes losing himself in everything you are. Prefers finishing inside you, but you refuse to fuck him without a condom so he never gets exactly what he wants. It's close enough, though.

Spent weeks—months—laying unfair claim to your body, and now he can't bring himself to look in your direction. It infuriates you.

But more than anything else, it embarrasses you.

Even your reflection laughs at you. Cackles 'told you so' every time you look in the mirror.

You always wondered why you never heard much about Jungkook's hook ups around campus. Everyone knows about Jimin and how his cock has been perpetually wet since the first day of freshers week, but there's always been a secrecy when it comes to Jungkook.

It's something you've teased him about; in your sheets, bodies clammy, his heart beating so fast in his chest you'd been forgiven for thinking he'd just run a marathon.

"When do I have to sign it?" You had giggled.

"Sign what?" He'd husked, voice all wispy and fucked out.

"The NDA," you'd replied as if it was obvious. "It's been, like, what? A month? Surely it's about time you made sure I kept my mouth shut like all your other girls do?"

On your front, your arms were folded over his chest, and he was gently rearranging the pretty little updo he'd made a mess of. Though he was looking at his hands as he replied, you kept your eyes on his. Studied his sincerity.

"Reason you don't hear about other girls is 'cause there aren't any."

A smile twitched at the corner of your lips, but you didn't let it shine for him.

"Sure."

There was a small jerk to his torso as a breathy smirk formed on his face.

"You think I can't be trusted?"

"I think it's foolish to trust any man."

His deep, dark eyes sank down to focus on yours. Offered you all the sincerity you'd be searching for, and more.

"That's all I am, huh?" He'd challenged you. "Just another one of your men?"

"One of the many," you'd teased just to rile him up a little.

"Ah," he'd played along. "So that's why I always have to wear a condom?"

With a saccharine smirk on your lips, you'd gotten back in position, legs straddled over his hips. Had kissed him. Whispered, "No. That's just because I know it annoys you."

"You annoy me all the time," he'd mumbled into your lips, hands gripping your waist to get you grinding against his still sensitive cock. Barely fifteen minutes since he'd last finished, there was no way he was ready to go again.

"Hm?" You'd hummed against his kisses, then began to work your way down his neck in a way that always got him a little moany. "If I'm so annoying, why are you getting hard again, baby?"

"You can be annoying and hot," he told you as he desperately tried to not let his insatiable need for you show.

"Is that how you like your girls?" You'd ribbed once more, just to piss him off a little. It was never serious. Never something you would actually fret over.

Perhaps you should have done, but then he told you with a little too much candour, "No. It's how I like my girl. Singular."

Loose lips sink ships, and Jungkook was one iceberg away from greeting the ocean floor. Closing his lips back down on yours, he was making sure you were just as insatiable for him as he was for you. He didn't cum again that evening, even if you did more times than you cared to count.

A greedy lover, is Jeon Jungkook. Edacious.

And so you understand, now, why the girls he gets entangled with stay silent; how the hoaxes he plays leave them utterly hysterical. They're subject to silence, because who would possibly believe all those sweet little lies he tells? How mad would they be considered if they tried to convince anyone he has a heart?

His brazen lack of humanity is proven when he comes to pay for the table. Any of them could have done it. Yet he elects to stand in front of your till and wait for you to serve him.

Have you not served him enough?

You refuse to utter a single word in his direction. Don't look at him, don't give him any satisfaction. He can read it for himself, he can pay, and he can fuck off.

"Keep the change," he mumbles tossing down the bills—but like fuck are you gonna keep anything he gives you.

He begins to walk away, a little shrunken in his stature.

"Excuse me, sir."

Stopping dead in his tracks, Jungkook is perplexed to hear you address him so coldly.

"Your change," you say, holding a closed hand out for him to hold his own hand beneath. He doesn't want to cause a scene. Obliges. Is surprised when notes, not coins, fall into his palm.

More specifically, notes folded into the shape of flowers. His handiwork, he's certain. Was something he used to do in the early hours of your late night diner shifts. If he said something a little mean, or bickered with you a little too hard, he'd fold his notes up like posies and give them to you as a remedy.

Never used those notes to buy you real flowers, mind you.

Back when things were still easy, you pulled him up on it. Told him that you'd be far easier to seduce with a little wooing. He'd told you that you were easy to seduce regardless.

You didn't speak to him for the rest of your shift.

Ended it with fourteen folded bills in the shape of a bouquet, and when the backseat windows of his car had a thick veil of condensation coating them that same evening, he'd drawn you flowers on them.

"No point in flowers," he'd told you. "They just wither up and die."

Which is funny, 'cause it kinda looks like Jungkook is doing that very same thing right in this moment. He goes to speak, but nothing comes out.

Disappointing, you think, then realise of course he is. Has done nothing but disappoint you.

You smile. Jungkook looks like he wants to cry. Good.

"Don't let the door hit you on the way out."

21 repetitions. That's how many times it takes to form a habit. You know this.

You also know that 90 days of this repetition will form a habit to last a lifetime.

As you hook up your apron, and free your hair of the ribbon that had been tightly wrapped around your ponytail, you know these are 'lifetime' habits. Apron, then ponytail. Always.

But when you say goodbye to Maria, and ask if she'll be at home this evening, you find yourself leaning into a recently formed habit. It's not anything particularly noteworthy. Not something anyone would notice.

Well, not anyone who matters. You don't think Jungkook counts as someone who matters, anymore.

But he'd noticed; how you'd started glancing across to his parking spot whenever you clocked out. Had teased you for it. Asked you if it was the highlight of your day, seeing him there, as if it wasn't the highlight of his.

You should have known the playful banter when he told you not to get used to it wasn't really banter at all.

Yet here you are, glancing across to his parking spot only to see it empty.

It's not even like it's his spot. Whenever he's with his friends, they walk. Live right on campus, so don't need to drive, and if they do, they'll park right by the doors.

In the height of summer, when the lot was empty and Jungkook wasn't driving for his sake but for yours, he liked to park in the far corner. Said dumb shit about not wanting any weirdos scratching it. Whined and moaned whenever someone performed the very human act of parking next to the only other car in an empty parking lot.

"So many spaces!" He'd blather on. Would speak with his hands. Get deliberately more animated, 'cause it always made you laugh. "And they choose here?!"

The memories make you smile, until the yellow headlights of another car flood into the parking lot. They reveal what's right in front of you; a crowd of cars and not a single one of them you care for.

It's not like you cared for Jungkook, either. Was just something to pass the time when the streets were quiet and his head was loud. 

In turn, you gave him quiet, and he made your summer feel loud.

But the leaves are turning brown and the water in the roadside puddles is becoming stale. The seasons have changed and so has the nature of your interactions. It's fine. You don't care. Really. Couldn't think of anyone you'd want to hang around less. Would rather die than associate with The Untouchables.

You never needed a lift, not really. Especially not when it always took you an hour to get home 'cause Jungkook just wanted to keep on driving.

Grumbling to yourself just to try and divert your mind from thoughts of him, your heart almost skips a beat when your phone vibrates in your pocket. For a second, you wonder if it could be him.

Where you at? It could read. I'm here.

Or maybe, I miss you.

I can't sleep without you.

This is so stupid. Can I come over?

It won't say of those things and you damn well know it.

Your text thread is dormant. The last message is from you, two weeks prior.

You: you not coming in tonight?

You: you'll be pleased to know my fairy godmother turned a pumpkin into a carriage to make sure i got home safe x

You: ... at least let me know if ur alive?

Rolling your eyes at how mortifying your desperation feels, the scowl that settles into your expression is comical. It's like you're fighting with the wind that's threading itself through your hair.

Pulling your phone out, the scowl only intensifies.

Jackass Wang: party tonight

You: so????

One thing about Jackson is that he's not gonna leave anyone on read, especially when he's trying to drum up attendees for his parties.

Jackass Wang: so i haven't seen you around for a while, montgomery

"Fuckin' Montgomery," you mutter at the nickname.

It's the one that all of Jungkook's friends seem to refer to you as, as if you don't have a personality outside of your job.

Still, at least Jackson is a little bit inventive with it. Calls you Monts. Monty, Monstera Plant, Monte Carlo, and god knows what else. If it starts with 'Mon,' he's found a way to end it with a cheeky smirk and smug anticipatory look in your direction, as he awaits your reaction.

You: i like it better when i don't see you x

Jackass Wang: you know that isn't true. loverboy will be there. come with him. or don't. i don't care. you can bring your little friends with you.

You: they'd rather die :) x

Jackass Wang: y'know, you're replying an awful lot for a girl who's not interested ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

You: you just can't take no for an answer

Jackass Wang: yes i can - but you haven't said no yet. c'mon. loverboy has been moping around all week. i can't be arsed with his mardy ass energy all evening.

You: so don't invite him???? i don't see why it's my problem?????

The fact that you don't need clarification of who Jackson means is proof enough that perhaps Jackson's onto something.

Jackass Wang: conservatory any time after 9. be there or be square montgomery. or don't be. i'm sure loverboy can get his dick wet without you, but it's easier for everyone if he doesn't.

You: charming x

Jackass Wang: it's why the ladies love me.

You: all of them except this one, apparently. have a nice party. stay away from the drugs.

Jackass Wang: can't be tamed, monte carlo. nor can loverboy. come keep him company.

The block button towards the top of your message thread looks incredibly tempting. Just a single click and you'll never have to deal with Jackson Wang and his dumb parties ever again.

Part of you can't believe you've ever been associated with them, as it is.

Summer defied the conventions of the life you've built for yourself. You weren't the person you thought you were.

Kicking off your shoes when you arrive home, the door slams shut behind you. A gentle voice calls through to check if it's you.

"Maria's still working," you say as you walk into the kitchen, tossing your bag down on the floor and your phone on the counter.

Taehyung, your best friend since your first week at college, is cooking himself dinner, but offers you a spoon of the tomato sauce he's making. Humming as you taste it, you're amazed by how he manages to make even the simplest thing delicious.

"S'good. What is that? Cumin?"

Nodding, he smiles. "A little paprika, too. You want some?"

His hair is dishevelled, blonde and sunkissed from the sweltering summer skies. He always looks great with a tan; radiant and full of youth.

Shaking your head, you really don't have an appetite. "Think I'm gonna have an early night."

He's about to reply when your phone buzzes. Both of you glance down. Your skin feels red hot, and when Taehyung almost chokes on the spoonful of sauce he's just tried, he's all sorts of confused.

"Why the fuck is Jackson Wang messaging you?"

"Hmm?" You hum as if you have no idea what he's talking about. Realise from the look on his face that he doesn't buy it for a second. "Oh! That Jackson Wang. Think he sent a text to his entire contact list. Something about a party."

"No," Taehyung asserts. "Absolutely not. You cannot bullshit out of this one."

"It's not bullshit," you whine as you pretend to look in the fridge for something to drink. Settle on a beer left by one of Taehyung's friends at a party held last semester. It wasn't quite a Jackson Wang level party, but nothing ever is. "He's just trying to drum up numbers for his stupid party tonight."

Taehyung is many things, but stupid he is not. Though he's blonde (thanks to a bottle of bleach and a few too many jack and cokes), he bends all the stereotypes. His tuition is covered by a scholarship for academic excellence.

"Don't give me that bull."

"It's not bull!"

"So you're telling me, out of everyone at our college, the Jackson Wang is texting you to make up numbers for his party?"

"Yes!" you exclaim, partially a little offended at it being such an unfathomable idea. "And he said you can come too, so maybe you're the one he's really after!"

His expression is flat. You are paper thin.

He's known you long enough to know when you're giving him half-truths.

He also knows you spent the summer alone in this house, and that there's a new toothbrush in the bathroom next to yours.

"You're hooking up with him, aren't you?"

"No!"

Out of everyone to be accused of sleeping with, Jackson Wang is, like, the worst of the worst. He's handsome, sure, but he's also slept with pretty much every girl on campus. Is a teenage boy in a grown adult's body. You'd rather not fornicate with a guy who still finds 'your mum' jokes funny.

Taehyung gasps at your immediate denial. "You are!"

"I'm not!"

"All that talk about saving it for someone special, and you mean to tell me you went and lost it to Jackson fuckin' Wang?!"

Everything about this conversation is making you want to punch yourself in the face. The topic of sex, and just why you've never gotten around to it, has dominated many conversations around this dining table. If you have to discuss it again, you might move out.

"Oh my God," you whine, throwing your head back. "We are not having this conversation."

"Yes, we are."

"No, we're not, because I didn't lose my virginity to Jackson Wang!" You stress. The more you think about it, the more offended you are.

"To Jackson Wang," Taehyung echoes, as he begins to join invisible dots. "But you did lose it to someone."

"No," you insist, but Taehyung refuses to buy it. Knows you too damn well.

He always thought he'd know when you lost it. That it'd be a boy you'd been dating. Committed to. Someone good. Someone worthy. Not someone you keep in the shadows.

"There's something you're not telling me," he frowns. "What the fuck happened this summer?"

With a sigh so deep it's a miracle you're still breathing, you relent. Never signed one of those NDA's you're convinced Jungkook must hand out like candy, as if he's some sort of celebrity and not just some college reprobate.

"Jungkook," you feebly admit. Take a sip on your beer. Don't look at Taheyung, 'cause you're afraid to see his reaction. "Wasn't Jackson. Was Jungkook."

You tell Taehyung everything. How Jungkook never knew you were a virgin. How he still doesn't. How you blame yourself for your hurt, but him for not getting you any band aids to help deal with it; for not kissing you better when he was the one to cause you such hurt in the first place.

As you recite you memories, you play a game against yourself: take a sip every time you want to cry.

By the time you've told Taehyung the nitty-gritty truth, the bottle of wine that had been in the fridge is finished, as well as your beer.

"I can't believe this," Taehyung says for what feels like the billionth time.

There's a certain shame that comes with Taehyung's confusion.

Embarrassment, like the way Jungkook would cringe at himself whenever he stumbled on his words, or the way you'd covered your reddening cheeks with your hands when he teased you for looking at him in the way you did.

Remorse of time wasted before him, and time wasted with him.

Regret of the things you did and the things he didn't.

It's all very confusing. Exhausting. If you were to really think about it, you'd spend a week in bed with a box of tissues. Would ask Taehyung why he didn't warn you that a heart could feel this horrid.

But he did, and you damn well know it.

Shrugging, you reach for the bottle and split the final few glugs between your glasses.

"We were just bored," you play it off. "Had nothing better to do. No one better to do."

But Taehyung shakes his head. "You don't have to do that, yanno. Pretend like it didn't matter. It's okay that it did. Even if he is a prick, and even if he's no better than the rest of them. It's okay that it hurts."

You're silent when he says this.

Despite your teasing, you never really thought Jungkook was much of a player.

But his friends are back now, and you've been relegated to the sidelines. Doesn't matter if he spent weeks—months—playing in no field but yours. Greener pastures have presumably sprouted. Your turf is wrecked from his carelessness, and he's left you to heal yourself while he goes and wrecks another.

Whoever he was pretending to be in the summer isn't who he is now that his friends are back—but when they're laughing and joking in the basement of the Conservatory that evening, Jungkook knows which version of himself he prefers.

"You need to get laid," Jimin tells Jungkook with a laugh. "Never seen a man look so bloody miserable at a party."

Of all the things Jungkook needs, getting laid is not one of them. In fact, he thinks it would be a very sensible idea if he never got laid again. Sex is messy. People get all emotional over it.

Or more so, he gets all emotional over it.

Had never been the type to, before. Always thought it was something that just happened to other people. Not to him.

He pushes the thoughts aside. Feels a little sick. Shrugs off Jimin's remark.

"If I wanted to get laid, I would get laid."

"So why don't you? Will do us all a favour. Claudia's been—"

"I couldn't give a fuck," Jungkook interrupts Jimin. "I'm not interested."

He never has been. Wants nothing to do with this university, and the men that run it, and so would never date one of their daughters.

They're all corrupt. Every last one of them. All cheat on their wives. All throw their families under the bus for their own selfish exploits. His own father's affair has proven this to him.

Jungkook pities his friends. Just because their parents haven't fucked up yet, doesn't mean they won't.

"Oi, Loverboy," Jackson calls from across the room, breaking the tension only to replace it with a headache for Jungkook. "Where's your little girlfriend? I told her to come."

"Who?" Jimin chirps.

Jungkook grates his jaw. Is deadly serious when he says, "Leave it, Jackson."

"Trouble in paradise for our lovebirds, huh?"

"I said leave it."

"Who the fuck is he talking about?" Jimin continues to ask, incredibly curious about this turn of events. Leave town for a couple of months, he thinks, and everything changes.

"No one."

"That one from the diner," Jackson just continues fuckin' talking. Jungkook wants to scream. "The one with a stick up her ass—"

"Jackson, cut it out," Jungkook snaps. "She's no one. Just fuckin' leave it."

"You ashamed, huh, Loverboy?" Jackson berates him a little bit. He isn't trying to be a dick, but he thinks Jungkook is acting like a tool. Jackson is no saint, but at least he doesn't ever pretend to be something he's not. "Poor girl. Wear her like your favourite pair of shoes all summer and then throw her to the trash when your friends come back? I thought better of you. So did she, probably. Shame."

Of all the people Jungkook ever expected to receive lessons in morality from, Jackson Wang was not the one. He parades himself around the Conservatory like Hugh Hefner reincarnated, his class attributed to money and not behaviours.

"The fuck have you been doing this summer, Kook?" Jimin laughs, utterly dumbfounded by his reactions.

They've all had their fair share of less than conventional lovers. If Jungkook has been fucking around with a girl from the Diner, then so what? Who cares?

"Nothing," Jungkook snaps.

It's not that he's ashamed. 

It's that you're separate.

When he's with you, all of this—the bullshit of college life and calamity of his family falling apart—dissolves into nothingness. He doesn't have to think. Finds himself at ease.

If you were to ever become a part of his life—his real one, not the one he got so used to living in with you over the summer—then it'd all change.

He doesn't want that.

He wants you to be a safe haven.

A refuge point can't be in the midst of a fire, though. He has to keep you away. At arms length.

But god damn, he wishes you would come and put out his fire. He's struggling. Finds existing without you so fucking hard. Doesn't know at which point he became so dependent, but knows his oxygen is running low.

He's suffocating. Isn't sure how much longer he can keep this up.

"Yeah, sure seems like nothing," Jimin smirks with a shake of his head as Jungkook storms off to get some much needed air. "Oi, Jackson, what was that all about?"

With a shrug, and yet another girl on his arm, Jackson grins. Puts on a pathetic little voice to mimic Jungkook's tantrum. "Fink baby boy has a wittle cwush."

"Girl from the diner?" Jimin implores, still smirking at Jackson's dumb humour. "Which one?"

"You really have to ask?"

For all of his mystery, Jungkook has never been a man of subtleties. His eyes give him away.

They always have done.

When he was looking at the menu board earlier that day? It was obvious.

Before college broke up for summer, and how Jungkook would always cast his eyes down to his hands whenever you, specifically, came to take their order? It was obvious.

How Jungkook would always make sure he was on the side of the booth that gave him ample opportunity to steal glances of you? It was so fucking obvious.

Sometimes he'd laugh at the slightly sarcastic remarks you gave Claudia whenever she would ask irritating questions about the menu.

When they were deciding where to eat, Jungkook would suggest the Montgomery's Diner, always.

So, no, Jimin doesn't really have to ask.

"Stupid prick," he sighs, sipping on his beer. Loves Jungkook to absolute death, but will never understand him. Figures that maybe you do. Worries that Jungkook is about to wreck it all. He calls after Jackson, "She here tonight?"

"Invited her," he calls back. "But she's got an attitude problem to rival his. Fuck knows if she's around. You'll feel her ice before you see her."

Which is funny, because the lingering summer heat sticks to your skin as you nervously meander up a driveway you know all too well.

The Conservatory is decidedly not a conservatory.

It's a complex. A maze of buildings, and greenhouses, and fuck knows what else. You've no interest in gardening, but if excelling at it meant living somewhere like this, maybe you'd consider taking it up as a hobby.

The buildings are mostly redbrick, with large windows, and even larger doors. It's the kind of place you'd imagine a Duke of some far away land prancing about in. Playing croquet, or secretly courting a lowly village girl that his parents will never approve of.

The irony isn't lost on you.

"Wait, how do I look?" Taehyung asks for what feels like the hundredth time. "Not too dressy?"

"You're wearing a waistcoat," you reply, face twisted in affectionate condemnation. He looks great, but he also does look far too dressy. It's his 'look', though, and one that'll get him attention, both good and bad.

If Kim Taehyung walked around with the arrogance his handsome face warranted him with, he'd be the heartthrob of the campus. You think even Claudia would want a slice of him—and given his distaste for the elite yet pining desire to be on their level, it'd be quite the complex pairing.

All of the other men here are in t-shirts, but Taehyung has never been like other men. It's part of the reason you like him so much.

One thing, however, you don't like about Taehyung is his domineering need to 'fix' things. It comes from a place of love, and he only ever does it because he cares, but it's not always in your best interest.

When he told you to go and get changed out of your work uniform, you thought he was planning on taking you to a bar. That you'd be drowning your sorrows over wine you can't afford.

You would never agree to go to the Conservatory. Not now.

Which is why he didn't tell you of his plan.

Instead, he ordered a cab and didn't give you the chance to protest. You were already halfway there by the time you realised.

"Why don't we just go home?" You whine, tugging on his arm as you stand by the gate that leads through the gardens—the same ones you used to traipse around in with Jungkook. "We don't need to be here."

"Uh-uh," he shakes his head, firmly standing his ground. "I've avoided this place for two years, and the second my back is turned it becomes your new home. The least you could do is invite me round for dinner."

"It's not my new home—"

"MONTGOMERY!"

The voice of Jackson Wang yelling across the front lawn makes you want to shrivel up and die. Sink down into the ground. You'd make great compost for the botanists.

"Y'know, you and Loverboy really need to stop lying so much," he says with an incredibly intoxicated grin as he lumbers towards you. You'll never admit it, but part of you is pleased to see him. "First you saying you weren't coming, then him telling everyone nothing happened between you. Both as bad as one another."

Nothing happened between you.

It doesn't surprise you, but it does sting. And it also confuses you. Why on earth would you be a topic of conversation? The people here know you as Montgomery. The girl from the diner. You're nothing but a background character to them.

"What did he say?" You ask, disregarding everything else, not even bothering to introduce Taehyung. He's finding all of this incredibly bewildering.

"Oh, Jimin was grilling him," Jackson waves his hands around, disregarding it. "Kept saying you were no one. Refused to admit that he'd practically tied his laces with yours for the whole summer. Don't you worry, though, Monte Carlo. I had your back. Set the record straight."

Jackson Wang having your back isn't something you ever expected to happen.

Jeon Jungkook's absolute denial of your clandestine affaire de cœur is, disappointingly, something you expected.

It doesn't mean that it comes without hurt. If anything, it's far more visceral, for you only have yourself to blame. These wounds are self-inflicted, even if they're carved with a knife Jungkook crafted out of silly affirmations he never should have made.

"Where is he?" You ask, cold in your tone.

Jackson shrugs. "Try the basement. S'where I last saw him."

As Jackson saunters off to find another poor partygoer to mildly offend, you're left with a bad taste in your mouth. You've been irritated since you saw Jungkook earlier that day.

How he can just show up at the diner and act like he doesn't even know you, let alone knows what it's like to wake up next to you, is beyond insulting.

"C'mon," Taehyung urges you along. "I need a drink, and you could use three."

Conversely, you think you need an entire bottle.

A bottle of what, you don't care. Just something strong. Anything other than the shitty, overpriced whisky Jungkook always insisted on drinking.

"Fine. But we're not going to the basement."

It's perplexing to walk the halls of the Conservatory without Jungkook; to pass by strangers who have no idea who you are, but who know and admire him as if he's some sort of Hollywood celebrity.

They don't know him like you do. Don't know what it feels like to have his hand around their throat, or his fingers gently intertwined with theirs. They've never heard him laugh like you have.

And yet when you're a few drinks deep, and on the verge of calling a cab to go home, you hear that laugh again and wonder how he can bear to be happy right now.

Glancing up, his face is unreadable. The lights are dim, and the shadows obscure the painful furrowing of his brows. He looks just the same as he did back in the diner earlier that day. Perplexed. In pain. Somehow perfectly fine, too.

The group he's in is small. Some of them you know, some of them you don't.

Claudia sits across from him on the lap of some other guy, yet she doesn't take her eyes off Jungkook. She laughs a little harder at his jokes. Directs questions to him. Flirts with other people in front of him to no avail. 

Not even now, after summer when her skin is sunkissed and her radiance is rejuvenated, can she keep his attention.

In fact, none of them can once he spots you from across the room. The big lights are off, fairy lights strung up, and a sunset lamp pours a clementine hue over you.

Summer becomes you, he thinks—adores—from afar.

The year is a body, and you're eternally condemned to its heart. That's where he'll keep you. Where you belong.

Had it been spring—the brain of the year—when he'd been hauled up in that diner, he never would have let things get as far as they did.

Had it been winter—the cunt of the year, for lack of a better term—he would have let it get that far, and he wouldn't have felt bad about it, either.

But Autumn is drawing close. The gut. The time to trust his intuition, and he damn well knows it.

A hand wraps itself around your wrist, dragging you away from his car crash eyes. Jungkook slips into the dull shadows of the room, right where he belongs. Was foolish of you to ever think otherwise.

"Do you mind?" you snap, but let yourself be dragged away regardless. Part of you hopes it'll make Jungkook do something. You're not sure what. Just something.

The man who is leading you astray is familiar. Recognisable. Park Jimin.

Though he's not aggressive, he definitely isn't gentle as he leads you out to the gardens. Lets go of your wrist by an overgrown shrub just beyond the benches that are made for drunken DMC's. He isn't after one of them. Wants the facts.

"Cut the bullshit," he says.

"No hello?" You chirp. "Nice to see you? Or better yet, an introduction?"

"You know who I am," Jimin tells you, expression flat. You hate that the arrogant fucker is right. "But I know fuck all about you, and apparently you're the reason Jungkook is walking around like death warmed up. So cut the bull. What happened?"

Frankly it's none of Jimin's business. Even if he's done you wrong, Jungkook trusted you. You're not gonna throw that back in his face and air his dirty laundry—especially not considering that Jimin is Jungkook's friend. If Jungkook wanted him to know, he'd have told him.

"Nothing," you tell him. "Barely even know him."

Jimin sighs. Jackson was right. There's a reason why you and Jungkook got along so well. Are both insufferable.

Glancing behind you, Jimin raises his brows.

You turn to face his line of vision, and fail to hide your surprise when you see Jungkook by the back door. Like a deer in headlights, he's frozen in place, his darling bambi eyes so startled he almost looks scared.

"So if you barely know him," Jimin continues as you and Jungkook stare one another out. "Why the fuck is he looking at you like he's seen a ghost?"

It takes a second or so, but you manage to pull your gaze away. Turn back to face Jimin. Shrug. Play dumb.

"Mistaken identity."

"Oh, I get it," Jimin smirks, knowing you aren't gonna give him an easy way out. Needs to bamboozle answers out of you. "You both went to the same bullshitting classes over summer? Is that it?"

You're surprised to find yourself smiling. Surprised that you find humour in Jimin's words. Surprised that you aren't rolling your eyes.

He's always been the Untouchable that has annoyed you the most. Is too loud. Laughs at the most obnoxious things.

"Top of the class," you reply because it somehow feels okay to joke with him. Perhaps spending so much time with Jungkook has lowered you Park Jimin-related intolerance. Not cured it, by any means, but definitely made it easier to manage.

"Academic rivals," Jimin supposes, realising that maybe there's a little more to you than he's ever given you credit for. "That's pretty hot."

"He seemed to think so," you lament, knowing that you're revealing a far more truthful rendition of your time spent with Jungkook. Or at least, admitting that time was spent together.

With a sigh, you walk a little further into the garden. Cross your arms. Look back over your shoulder to the door, only to find Jungkook is gone. It shouldn't upset you like it does, but you find your lips pressing together in a small pout.

"Look," Jimin says, exhaling a breath so deep you're sure his lungs must be empty. He comes to stand beside you, looking across the vast expanse of the gardens. "I'm not asking for your life story. If you don't give a shit about Kook, then that's fine, I'll leave you alone. But he's my best friend, and I've never seen him like this."

Glancing at Jimin, there's a taut discomfort on your face. Guilt, almost—but you've not done anything wrong. It's on him. He's the one who chose for things to be this way.

"I give a shit," you quietly admit as you look back out towards the garden, then sigh out a pitiful laugh. "You know him. You know what he's like. Of course I give a shit."

Quite honestly you think it's impossible to not fall for Jungkook. He's everything you're hardwired to appreciate: hardworking, charming, incredibly funny. You lost count of how many nights dissolved into laughter with him. Had never known your cheeks to hurt so much.

He was gentle, too. Stroked his thumbs against your cheeks just as often as he made them ache.

It's your heart that's aching now, and he's not around to soothe your woes.

Back inside, Jungkook feels so viscerally unwell that he thinks he might be sick. Or maybe he's actually dying. One of the two.

This is everything he didn't want. You were supposed to be separate. Supposed to be a sanctuary away from this all.

You're in the thick of it, now. Jimin is grilling you, and Jungkook doesn't know what to do. It's too much. All of it. The party, the people, the fact that you look at him with ice in your eyes when he knows damn well they used to harbour the warmest of fires.

Beelining for the basement, he kind of hopes the ground will swallow him up. Stop him from making the bad decisions he seems to find so god damn irresistible.

As he yanks open the small fridge at the back of the basement, Jungkook doesn't care what he drinks. Just needs something to help soothe his fragile mine; to make him feel better, 'cause lord knows you won't.

Reaching for a beer, he doesn't ask around to see if it belongs to anyone. Finders keepers. He's an Untouchable. This place is basically his by birthright. No one is gonna argue against him.

But Kim Taehyung isn't just anyone.

"So, when you apologise for being a gargantuan pillock, are you planning on also trying to win her over? Or will you just clean your conscience and wipe yourself clean of her, too?"

Jungkook's jaw tenses as his teeth grit together. "Don't know what you're on about."

"Had a girl in tears at my dinner table earlier tonight," Taehyung exaggerates. Just wants Jungkook to feel as awful as he knows you do. "Your friends might not give a shit about your well-being, but I give a shit about mine."

And for some reason, this irks Jungkook. He gives a shit about you. Cares so much he's been torturing himself by staying away. Thinks it's better for you both.

If it truly was, neither of you would be feeling so gut-wrenchingly awful.

He knows you're angry. You've made that perfectly clear.

But he also knows you do cry when you're frustrated. Was a lesson learned when you were stressed over the diner roof leaking one night during the monsoons when no one else was in to help you fix it.

It was the first night he offered you a lift home. Had taken pity on you. Had also liaised with the college maintenance guy to check it out the next day, even if the diner wasn't technically part of campus.

Because Jungkook does give a shit about your well-being, and he refutes the claim that he doesn't.

"So what? You here to tell me to stay away?" Jungkook scoffs as he prizes off the cap of the bottle. Swigs down a sip. Then another, 'cause he's not wankered enough for this.

"I'm here to tell you that you're an asshole," Taehyung asserts. "She didn't deserve to be used by you for the summer and then tossed to the trash just because semesters starting up again."

The roll of Jungkook's eyes is so weighted that it almost feels as if they'll get lodged in the back of his skull. The last time they'd rolled that deep was in bed with you. Back then it was because his body was so divinely out of sync that his muscles couldn't keep up with his actions. This time, pleasure is the furthest thing away from how he's feeling.

"You want me nowhere near her, but the fact I'm staying away makes me an asshole?" Jungkook petulantly laughs. "Can't ever fuckin' win, can I?"

"This isn't about winning or losing," Taehyung argues back. "She trusted you."

Jungkook doesn't understand what that has to do with anything. He's not betrayed your trust. Has kept all your secrets. Tried his best to keep you secret, too.

"What was she to you, huh? Some project? A virginity to get under your belt? Something to pass the time—"

"I don't know who you think I am," Jungkook snaps, fed up being accused of something he's not. "But not once did I ever treat her badly, okay? I—" He cuts himself off. Doesn't know how to articulate himself. "We— Look, you just don't get it. You don't know me. I was nothing but fuckin' nice. Okay? And she was nice. And it was nice. And we..." He trails off. Realises what Taehyung said. "The fuck do you mean, 'virginity to get under your belt'?"

It's about now that Taehyung realises he's said too much.

But every cloud has a silver lining.

"Talk to her," Taehyung shrugs as he begins to walk away. "Not me."

He leaves a scowling Jungkook by the fridge. Heads to the stairs, and once he reaches the top, is yanked away by a small but mighty force.

"You," Jimin asserts. "With me. Now."

The sound of three knocks on the bathroom door serve as a signal: let me in.

A panicked text from Taehyung had practically begged you to go to the basement bathroom and wait for him there. Said there was drama that he needed to talk with you about.

And you believed him, 'cause you're a few too many drinks deep and honestly could do with the respite.

Perched up on the countertop by the sink, you reach over and unhook the latch, giving Taehyung the all clear to come on in. Your legs languidly swing and your shoulders are slumped, this party well and truly over for you.

The only reason you're still here is because you know Taehyung's secretly been revelling in his first Conservatory party. You fear he'll want to come every weekend, now.

"You better not have your cock out," a playful voice you know all too well jokes, as the door pushes open. Eyes closed as he enters, he shuts the door behind him. Asks, "Am I safe to open my eyes?"

You're gonna kill Taehyung. 

In the most loving but brutal way, you will absolutelymurder him for setting you up like this.

"Safe," you grimace.

Jungkook doesn't open his eyes. In fact, he presses them even tighter together. Frowns. "Jimin isn't in here, is he?"

"We've been bamboozled," you sigh, and as much as he doesn't want to, Jungkook smiles at your choice of words. Tips his head down, and open his eyes. Is a little too scared to look your way, for fear of being greeted with wrath.

"Their days are numbered," Jungkook assures you, quickly glancing across to try and work out how you're feeling.

"My sentiments exactly."

Jungkook goes to speak, but you both notice a grating metallic noise by the door. Immediately, Jungkook presses his hand down on the door handle, but there's absolutely no give. It won't budge

"Jimin," he calls, voice strong and domineering through the wooden panels. Hastily painted white, they're chipped and tarnished; covered in numbers and Instagram handles, rumours and declarations of love. It's not your first time locked in this bathroom with Jungkook, but the last was of your own choice. Had been you turning the lock with a smile and glint in your eyes that had promised him trouble. "Open it up."

"No can do," Jimins smugly sings from beyond the door. "Sort your shit out."

Hopping off the counter, you nudge in front of Jungkook to pound against the door with an open fist. Though he steps back, it's still the closest you've been with him since he left your bedroom a couple weeks ago. Part of you laments the fact he moved away from you. Part of him does, too.

"Tae," you try calling instead, hand banging on the door, but you're met with the exact same response.

"Figure it out," he calls back, but also adds, "And if he's still an insufferable asshole in five minutes time, I'll come let you out."

Despite everything, you laugh at this. Not so much because of Taehyung's words, but because Jungkook's face screws up like an old newspaper.

"What is it with him and calling me an asshole?" Jungkook mutters under his breath with a shake of his head.

The bathroom is small—just a toilet and sink built into a cabinet. There's a mirror covering the back wall over it, and another cabinet above it that you assume is filled with empty bottles and misplaced lipglosses. There's barely even enough room to breathe, although there is enough room to make Jeon Jungkook come undone in the least dignified of ways. You should know.

You wish you didn't.

"He calls you one because you are one," you assure him.

"Excuse me?" 

"What?" You scoff, hopping back up on the counter, your eyes on his 'cause you want to watch the way he gets nasty. Wanna remind yourself of how horrible he can be. Replace the memories of him in this bathroom, 'cause in all reality, they're actually really lovely. Nice, even. Warm. Everything you're trying to convince yourself he's not. "Gone deaf as well as turned into a massive prick?"

"Jesus Christ," he says, rolling his eyes, turning back to face the door. Shakes at the handle. "Give it a rest."

"Why?" You ask as if butter wouldn't melt on your tongue. "Would it make life easier for you if I just wasn't around?"

Jungkook knows what you're doing. Has bickered with you enough times to understand your tricks. This is how you start; put words in his mouth that he can't defend against.

And so he doesn't try.

"Yep," he declares, turning to face you. "Way easier. Can you tell your friend I'm an asshole, still? Get us out of this place?"

You recline in defiance. Perched up on the counter next to the basin, your back is against a mirror. Legs crossed, you're in the same white summer dress you wore to your first party at the Conservatory.

Nearly everyone had been away for the summer.

You had spent the evening tucked up together on an armchair meant for one, him in the seat, you perched on the armrest, feet in his lap.

"People will talk, y'know," you'd assured him, elbows on your knees, chin in your palms.

"So let them talk," he'd smirked. "What's there to say? We're just sitting?"

It was strange for him to be seen with you. Even Jackson has been confused, but let it slide 'cause another partygoer is another partygoer. He cared for numbers, not names.

"Dunno," you had teased. "Might start talking about the way you look at me."

"Yeah?" He'd husked as his long fingers wrapped around your wrist. Gently pulled you closer.

"Yeah," you'd whispered, the sound of the music keeping your conversation obscure. "How long has it been that you've been looking at me for? A minute, already? Only one more until you fall in love, according to science."

"You tryna make me fall in love with you, Montgomery?"

"No," you'd innocently chirped, then pulled back. "Why? Were you?"

He'd shrugged. Sipped on his beer. "Guess we'll never know."

Looking at him now, you find it hard to believe he's the same person as he was back then.

"Why would I do that?" You feign naivety. "You're not an asshole?"

He doesn't reply. Knows you're going somewhere with this. Leans his back against the wall opposite you and folds his arms as if to say, go on.

"Assholes fuck people over," you state. "You'd never do that. And you'd definitely never spend your summer in some poor girls sheets and then pretend like she doesn't exist in front of your friends—"

"There is it," he confirms. Knew it was coming. Didn't expect you to actually try and speak about things like adults. So fuckin' childish.

"Oh?" You chirp. "So you're well aware of the fact you're an asshole? Good. Glad we have that one sorted out."

"Yep," he confirms, mouth drawing to a thin line.

The fact he isn't engaging in the fight infuriates you. Just proves he doesn't care. That he fucked you over for sport.

"I'm an asshole," he says, voice full of snark. "You know it, I know it. There's no reason why you should want to be around me. No reason why you should waste your time."

"It's so funny," you gasp in fake surprise. "I was thinking the exact same thing! Isn't it so great that you came to this conclusion after you already wasted months of my life?"

He's silent, now. Cowardly.

"Y'know I always knew you were an obnoxious prick," you say, voice now soberly quiet. "But I didn't think you were this cruel, Kook."

"You know that's not—"

"What?" You interrupt, voice growing louder with each question. "Not true? You woke up in my bed one morning, and then never spoke to me again. Who does that? What the fuck is wrong with you?"

"I don't know!" He shouts, and it surprises you both.

Raking his hand through his hair as he turns away from you, Jungkook wishes he had an answer. Wishes he could explain himself in a way that made sense to you both. Instead, he harshly swallows down his anger. Turns to face you again. Looks like he might cry.

Feels like it, too. 

"Why didn't you tell me, huh?" He quietly asks.

"Tell you wha—"

"That you were a virgin."

Your previous thoughts about murdering Taehyung return. Of all the things he could have divulged to Jungkook, and that's what he chose?!

Men, you internally scoff. All fuckin' idiots.

"Hardly relevant, is it?"

"Of course it is," he snaps, turning back to face you. "If I'd have known—"

"You'd have what? Ghosted me sooner? Made it into a fun little competition?"

"I didn't ghost you."

"Gaslighting, too, now are we?" You scoff. "Hold on, let me go and get my bingo card. Things Jungkook does that are absolutely fucking infuriating. Wanna cross it off the list. It's right next to how fast you drive your car, and how much I hate your stupid fucking alarm tone."

"Well good job you never have to hear it again, isn't it?"

"Why not? 'Cause you are ghosting me?"

"No, because this is fuckin' stupid," he says, yanking on the door handle, on the off chance it will finally budge. It doesn't. "You think I'm the devil reincarnated. You don't want me, so why bother with this? This is done. Us. Whatever the fuck it was. You never trusted me in the first place. Would have told me if you did. So just call your friend, tell him I'm an asshole. We're done."

"Oh, well you're two weeks too late for this conversation, don't you think?" you argue back with a cold laugh. "But has it ever occurred to you that my life doesn't revolve around you? That you aren't the reason I'm here? Jackson invited me."

"Ah, so that's what it is?" Jungkook sarcastically exclaims, your insatiable need to fight finally sinking into his skin. "You were just using me, huh? Getting those V-plates off, so you could be ready for him? Is that why you didn't tell me? Huh?"

The mere thought of hooking up with the college's very own Hugh Hefner makes you wanna gag—but if it'll piss off Jungkook, maybe you'll consider it.

"Why would you care if I let him fuck me?" You ask with such pointed anger Jungkook can't help but feel like you're driving knives into his chest. "Do that thing you like with my tongue? You think he'd like my pussy, huh? Maybe I'd let him fuck me raw."

You never let Jungkook go unprotected. Insisted on it each and every time, and he complied even if he was a little pouty about it after you'd been fucking for a while. The trust was there. You were on the pill. He knew he was clean and had told you as such, but it made no difference.

To even suggest you'd let Jackson fuck you raw is laughable.

With a smirk on his lips, Jungkook edges towards you.

Put his hands on your crossed knees. Waits for you to jerk him away—but you don't. Instead, you watch on with salacious confusion. Say nothing. Not even when he uncrosses them, nor when he spreads them apart.

With a hand either side of your head against the mirror, Jungkook stands between your legs.

Looks down at you.

Is so close you can smell his aftershave.

A month ago, in a position like this, you'd have kissed him.

"Hm?" You cock your head. Repeat your question. "You think he'd like my pussy? How long do you think he'd take to cum? Longer than you, I hope."

Jaw tense, Jungkook swallows down the way he wants to curse you out. Closes his eyes. Lets his head dip further, his forehead now resting against the top of your head.

The contact is minimal, but God, you've missed it. Trapped in position by him, you'd forgotten how lovely it was to lose yourself to Jungkook.

"You're not being fair," he whispers. Whines, even.

"Fair?" You laugh, but it's gentle. Matches his tone. "You can hardly take the high ground on fairness, Jungkook."

He nods. Takes a second, and then pathetically begs: "Don't fuck him. Please."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"You know why," he says. Stands straighter, now. Rakes a hand through his hair. Looks down on you with such pained desperation you almost feel bad. He tries to speak, but struggles with his words again. Takes him a few attempts to get anything out. "I didn't like you because I was fucking you. I fucked you because I liked you. You know that. You know it wasn't...Fuck. You know what it was."

The past tense he speaks in cuts you up inside.

Jungkook shrugs in defeat when he's met with silence. Purses his lips. Eyes on yours, they're glassy. Watery, almost.

Yours are just as bad, because what the fuck are you supposed to say to that? He's the one that cut you out. He did this.

"What did I do?" You ask, voice meagre and pathetic. Your vulnerability is mortifying, and yet you just can't help yourself as a tear streaks down your cheek. "What the fuck did I do that was so wrong, Kook?"

The heat of his hand scalds your skin as his thumb wipes away your tears. After his cold shoulder for the past two weeks, your body doesn't know how to respond. Should you be angry? Hurt? Comforted?

All you know is that you're more confused now than you ever were when you first started hooking up with him.

"Nothing," he quietly promises. Holds your cheeks in his hands. Rests his nose beside yours. Is far too close for a man who's been trying to stay away from you. Is beginning to realise that maybe his self-preservation was thinly veiled self-sabotage instead. "I thought I was doing the right thing, but it's been so fuckin' miserable, and then I didn't know how to fix things, and then it was all such a mess and—"

The words Jungkook is yet to speak are lost in the soft press of your lips against his.

Brows furrowed, Jungkook's grip on your face tightens. Keeps you close, 'cause he feels the pressure of your lips waning but doesn't want you to pull away.

And so you don't. Instead you apply more pressure. Harder. Deeper.

It's not like kissing Jungkook is a new experience. You've done it upwards of a thousand times, now. You know his lips and his tongue, and how it likes to flick against yours; his piercings, and the frequency of his moans that vibrate into your mouth.

Kissing Jungkook is just as easy as it is hard. Easy, in the way he takes not a single considered thought. Hard, in how it becomes your only tangible thought for minutes, hours, days afterwards.

An eternity and a millisecond is lost in the kiss, just like the summer that lasted an age and yet was gone with the wind.

When your lips finally part, there's silence. Forehead resting on yours, Jungkook shakes his head ever so gently. Doesn't know how to articulate his thoughts. How to say sorry, or how to fix his mess.

While his logic was flawed, and his execution careless, his intentions had been good. As much as he had a life to go back to, and friends that wouldn't get it, so did you.

He knows they hate him—isn't ignorant to the roll of Maria's eyes every time they walk into Montgomery's, and has experienced Taehyung's disdain first-hand this evening.

He'd spent his summer getting out of the house to avoid the fall-out of his father's infidelity. Knows how much his family is suffering all because of a man who just couldn't control himself. Was trying to be better. Trying not to wreck both of your lives.

As he stands in the dingy bathroom of a party house, the lingering burn of your lips on his still smouldering, he knows that he wrecked you both regardless.

And so it's up to him to put you back together again.

"I'm sorry," you say as you break the kiss, mortified at how stupid of an impulse it had been. You don't that. Not anymore. A month ago, sure, kissing Jungkook in a dingy bathroom at a party house would have been exciting. Now, it just feels embarrassing. "I shouldn't have—"

His lips are on yours again, stealing your words from you. He doesn't want to hear you apologise. Knows that you don't need to.  Also knows that he does need to.

"Don't," he quickly says between kisses. "Please, don't say sorry."

"But I—"

"Shut up," he smiles against your lips, shaking his head ever so slightly. He kisses you again, and this time it's soft. Pretty. Poetic, almost in how it makes you feel. And then he speaks, and you're reminded of just how easy it is to adore him, even when you know you shouldn't. "You know how much I've missed this? God, I've missed you so much. Please don't say sorry. I'm sorry. It's on me. I made a mistake, alright? I fucked up." 

He pulls back. Has your cheeks in his hands as he makes sure your eyes are on his. They're dark, now, in the dim light of the bathroom you're in, but they've never been warmer.

"I mean it. I'm so fucking sorry," he whispers. Brows furrowed, lips pouty, he's got the kind of face you're hardwired to trust. To adore. Or maybe, it's just him, in general, that you're inclined to feel this way about. "Okay?"

His large hard hands are still holding your cheeks, as yours wrap around his wrists. With a shake of your head, you shrug. Pout, too.

An apology is appreciated, but it's just words. It's his actions that have been upsetting you. Not his words (or lack thereof).

"We're gonna leave this bathroom and you're gonna pretend like I don't exist again," you tell him.

The frown on his face deepens. "That's not true. And that's not what I was trying to do in the first place, either. I just thought—"

"What? That it was a good idea to kiss me on my doorstep and promise you'd pick me up from work, only to never show? To ignore my texts? To—"

"No," he quietly admits, dropping his head between his shoulders. "I made the wrong calls—but I can make it up to you. I want to make it up to you." He rests his forehead against yours. Quietly begs, "Please."

Slowly, Jungkook nudges his nose up against yours. Waits for permission.

Beyond the door, loud music thuds through the room. It obscures the conversation you've been having, keeping you just as secret as you always have been.

It's not like you told any of your friends, either, and when it came to telling Taehyung, you weren't exactly forthcoming. Perhaps you would have been the one to pretend like he didn't exist, had he not done it first.

"I want you," he husks against your lips. 

"You wanna fuck me," you correct him, lips tantalisingly brushing his with every word.

"True," he admits. "But I also wanna send you dumb memes again, and go for drives after work, and wake up in your bed. I wanna go for breakfast, and I still need to cook you my world-famous makguksu. I want to have not been a dick for the past two weeks, but I can't change that. I just wanna be what I once was to you again."

"And what was that?" You encourage.

There was never any label. Realistically, there's no right answer. 

Or at least there isn't, until Jungkook just simply says, "Yours."

And what else can you do when confronted by such a pathetic, yearnful admittance from him, except to give into how you're feeling, too?

Frantic in the way your hands are on his body—his arms, his waist, around his throat—there's a neediness to you. One he's missed. One he reciprocates, as his large palms stroke up your spread thighs, then get your legs wrapped around his hips.

The movements of your bodies are so well nurtured by now that you know what comes next; how the bulge in his trousers will press against your covered pussy, and how you'll whine at the contact no matter how minimal.

"Fuck," you whine as his hands slip under the skirt of your dress. It's an old routine at this point. He knows exactly where to go, what to do. His fingers press against the wet fabric of your underwear, just gently enough to make you moan a little harder into his mouth.

"Oh?" He smirks when he realises just how needy you are, his fingers stroking against your slick panties. "Missed me, too?"

"You're an asshole," you tell him with a smile. As his fingers get firmer, you can't help but whine. "You know I have."

He pulls back to look down at your body. Pushes the fabric of your dress out of the way. Curses when he realises the underwear you're wearing. Is his favourite pair. Red and lacy, there's a suspender belt to match it. While you're not wearing it right now, he's got pictures of you in it that belong in a fuckin' museum.

"Did you wanna fuck me tonight, huh?" He mumbles into your lips.

"Not everything is about you," you say with a smile, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Except it is. They're your favourite pair too, simply for how insanely he reacted to seeing you in them. Sure you're not in the full set up, but it was enough to have you feeling ever so confident as you left the house with Taehyung.

As his lips press against yours, his finger hooks beneath your underwear. Tugs them to the side. Gets you exposed for him.

"No?" He husks, as his fingers begin to sink between your soaked folds. "So this isn't about me, huh?"

You shake your head. Lie. "Never been less turned on."

He plays into your little theatrics. Has always enjoyed them.

"So you don't want me to do this?" He asks as his middle finger sinks into your entrance.

"Can't even feel it," you pretend, as if his thick knuckles aren't stroking against you in just the right way.

"No?" He grits. Sinks a second finger inside you. Gets you whining again, nails gripping onto his arms. His fingers slowly pump into you, easing you into the way it feels for him to be inside you.

There's something electric about Jungkook. Sends shivers through your spine. Always knew exactly how to manipulate your pussy into doing whatever he wanted, and now is no different. As you clench around him, he's overcome with satisfaction.

"This is just my fingers," he reminds you. "I don't think you can handle my cock."

Scoffing, you're desperately trying to pretend you aren't melting for him. "Please, I can handle it just fine."

"Sure you can, baby," he teases with so much arrogance you kinda wanna fight him again—but it's also why you like him. He challenges you. Gets your brain in overdrive.

And when he crouches in front of the counter, eyes aligned with your exposed cunt, you think you might actually lose it entirely.

His hands are on your thighs, spreading you further, getting a good look at the mess between your legs. When he sighs, the shallow breath that escapes his lips feels like absolute sin against your wetness.

"Oh, you really haven't been fucked since me, have you?" He teases again. "Look at how fucking keen you are. Been missing my cock, huh?"

"My vibrator's been doing the job just fine," you assure him, but it has him pulling back to cock a brow in your direction. He knows many things about you that other people don't, but he was not aware you owned any sex toys. Finds that his cock only throbs even harder in his pants at this revelation.

"Maybe so," he husks, leaning closer just so he drags his flat tongue up your folds. Has to stop himself from moaning, 'cause the taste of you is somehow even better than his memories. "But it's not better than me."

With a point to prove, and a desperation to reclaim you as his own, Jungkook doesn't entertain chitchat any longer. He dives back in, tongue lapping against your lips as his fingers push back inside you. The way he curls them just right as his tongue flicks against your clit is enough to make anyone lose their head.

Hands tangling in his hair, you find your body responding to him in the way it always does; pathetically, needily, hungrily. There's no dignity to be found.

His tongue works against you like a well trained craft, until his lips latch around your swollen bud and begin to lightly suck on it. When he hums in satisfaction—which he does often—the suction only grows stronger.

Gets you whimpering, "Like that. Fuck. Like that."

The build is just as undignified as you are. Your grip on his hair gets tighter, and the shake of your legs grows stronger. Dragging his tongue up and down your folds, he settles back on your clit. Flicks his pointed tongue against you until he knows you can't take it any longer and begins to suck again. Curves his fingers just right. Strokes you so gently that orgasm pours out of you like liquid gold. Guilds him into the most gorgeous aureate glow.

He doesn't ease. Keeps his lips wrapped around your clit. Makes sure you're spent.

When he finally releases you, he's breathing just as heavily as you are. Gets to his feet, fingers still plugged in your tight pussy. Is pleased to find you're just as insatiable as he is, pulling him in for the messiest of kisses as soon as you can. There's no care given for the fact he's covered in your arousal. You just want that tongue of his in your mouth—and when it is, you find yourself moaning from the withdrawal of his fingers.

Your hands reach to the waistband of his jeans to unhook his button. Get his zipper down. Your hands down the front of his trousers, when his thick cock is restricted by his tight boxer briefs. By the tip of his cock, a small wet patch resides; his desperation for you obvious. Gently rubbing your thumb across the pre-cum, all you can think about is his slit, and how you wanna kitten lick across it.

But it's been two weeks of near-constant pining, and all Jungkook wants is to bury himself inside you.

"Let me fuck you," he begs. "Please, baby."

If the girl who had first seen Jungkook in a shared lecture hall two years ago would have known she'd end up in a shitty bathroom with him begging for her, she'd have laughed. Wouldn't have believed it for a second.

Fresh-faced and so out of your comfort zone, the first few days at university were full of potential. It was before you had wised up to your place in the pecking order; when Jungkook was just a boy in your orientation class.

Skin kissed by European sun, there had been a radiance to him that seemed to captivate just about everyone. You weren't the only girl who had been sneaking glances his way.

You'd thought about him a lot in those first few weeks. Came to learn of his family ties around the same time you befriended Taehyung. Stopped seeing him around campus so much, and rarely ever thought of him.

But on those rare occasions you crossed paths, your gaze would always linger.

As he frees himself of his boxers, trousers suspended midway down his thighs, he gently rubs the tip of his cock between your folds and husks, "Always thought you were so pretty, y'know?"

Looking up at you for just a second, he smirks. Looks back down. Continues to rub himself against you, prepping himself with your slickness.

"Freshers week," he continues. "You never came to any of the parties."

The tip of his cock kisses your entrance, but doesn't penetrate. You stay in limbo just shy of what you both want.

"Had a stupid fuckin' crush on you," he admits. Has never acknowledged it before, but has always known. Kept it hidden. Safe. Secret.

"No, you didn't," you smile. He didn't even give you a second glance. Was always you seeking him out in lecture halls.

"I did," he says with absolute certainty. "You wore that little black sundress on our first day. Had ruffles on the shoulders."

It hangs in your wardrobe, a little out of style but still sweet in the right setting. You know the exact one he's talking about, because he's right. You did wear it on that very first day.

His cock nudges a little deeper. Enough to make you gasp, but not moan. Not yet. Gripping his arms, brows furrowed, you nod. He sinks himself just a little bit further. The feeling is overwhelming; fire on ice.

"Would have fucked you in that lecture hall, if you'd have let me," he smirks.

"You didn't even know my name," you counter, but he cuts your questioning off as he edges a little deeper, still. His hand dips to gently rub languid circles on your clit. He's not pushing himself any further, not yet. Wants to ease into how this feels.

"I did," he admits. "Listened extra hard during the roll call."

"So this has all been some big elaborate scheme to get into my pants, huh?"

"Is it working?" he jokes, leaning over to yank the cabinet above the sink open. A few random bottles and packets clatter into the sink, but he doesn't care.

He's looking on the top shelf, rifling through old boxes, sending more miscellaneous objects to their untimely demise. Spotting what he's after, he's assertive as he knocks the cabinet shut. Passes you the box.

"S'all there is. They alright?"

"Sure," you say, pulling one of the foil packets from the box. You check the date stamped on the front—only to see it's a year out of date. Some protection would be better than none, regardless of the date, but fuck it. You're on the pill. "You haven't fucked anyone else? In the last couple weeks?"

"What?" His brows contort in confusion. "No."

His expression softens, but is still laced with confusion when you toss the box of condoms down into the sink.

"I don't care. I don't want them—"

You're cut off by the way Jungkook clasps your jaw, keeping your eyes locked on his. There's a seriousness to him now; the same demeanour he holds himself with when he was taking photographs. He's intentional. Assertive.

"Promise me," he says with stern certainty. "You want this?"

When he's got you like this—legs spread, body his to claim, your soul to take—it's impossible to do anything but comply. See, things with Jungkook are reciprocal. Your feelings, your tortured misunderstanding of how a relationship could ever work, and his seriousness, now, too.

"I promise," you swear.

As a chaste kiss is pressed to your lips, his hands stroke down your spread thighs, pushing you a little further open for him.

"Can't unfuck me," he softly reminds you. Is taking his time not for the anticipation, but because he's scared. "If you fuck me raw—"

"Then I fuck you raw," you simply repeat, knowing that it's up to you to ease his woes. If anyone should be scared, it's you—yet there's a safety that comes with being with Jungkook. Smirk, then say, "Trust me. I know I can't unfuck you. I've been trying to forget—"

"Ouch," he laughs, nudging his nose up against yours.

"—but you're just..." you tailed off, not wanting to compliment him too highly. He's still in the dog house. "Memorable."

With a sardonic smile that he knows only means trouble, you reach down to grip his incredibly pert ass cheeks. Squeezing, just because you can, you encourage him to push even deeper into you—and he's the one who whines, now.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight," he praises with such pained desperation it almost sounds like he'll cry. He won't. It's just that he can't quite believe that he's raw inside you right now, and that you feel just as good as he always imagined. Better, even.

"Yeah?" You question, as you pull his hips closer, gasping as he finally sinks his full length into you once more. His fingers were thick, but they've got nothing on his cock. Like he's taken all the air from your lungs, your voice is all light and airy. Makes Jungkook even more insane.

"Yeah," he mumbles as he nods into a kiss that is just as feverant as his need to pulse his hips. He doesn't dare do it yet. Is waiting for you. "Feels so fuckin' good."

"So just fuck me," you hungrily moan into his lips.

You're challenging him deliberately, and it works a fucking treat when he pulls back with a grin. He doesn't withdraw himself, but he does pulse his hips ever so slightly. Keeps you plugged. Is just nudging even deeper into you as he keeps a hold on your thighs, keeping them spread nice and wide.

"Say please," he grunts as his pulsing becomes a singular deep thrust.

Your argumentative streak wants to fight.

You'll berate yourself later for the way you whimper, "Please."

His thick cock withdraws just a little to push back into you. He groans. Curses. Builds momentum. Speed.

The sound of his skin slapping against yours as he pounds himself into you is impossible to ignore. Your moans build. Double. Treble. He's grunting too, and then his lips are on your neck. It's a mess, quite frankly.

In the sordid shadows of this bathroom, your bodies become acquainted with an intimacy not yet bridged before. You can pretend to ignore each other in the hallways of your shared lecture buildings, but you'll never be able to ignore the desperation you have for one another. Jungkook was right. You can't unfuck him. And now he's fucking you raw, it only make it even more potent.

Harshly pulling himself out of you, Jungkook almost fuckin' cums on the spot when he realises how soaked he is from your arousal. It's not like it's a new thing, but skin on skin, it's so much more intense. Gasping from the sudden loss of pressure, you're a little unsteady. Lurch forward as if your body could stop him from withdrawing.

Holding the base of his thick shaft, Jungkook spanks against your pussy with his cock. Rubs your slick wetness around with his tip. Hooks his elbows under your thighs. Pulls you closer. Instructs, "Arms around my neck."

Wrapping an arm around your back, the other one tucks under your ass as he lifts you.

He turns. Presses your back to the wall, and lines himself up.

"Legs around me," he tells you, and as soon as you do, his cock pushes up into you again. He keeps you pinned against the wall as he begins to fuck himself into you, his lips pressing wet kisses to the curve of your neck.

The sight in the mirror behind him is lethal; his broad back covered by his shirt, but it doesn't matter. You know what he looks like. Know his muscles, and the valley of his spine, like the back of your own damn hand.

You wanna see it though. Give it a tug. Send him the right message. Get him tearing his shirt off and dropping it to the floor for you. Victory is so damn sweet.

"Kook," you whine as he really begins to get deep. "You're gonna make me cum."

"All over my cock, huh?" He grunts. "Gonna cum on cock, are you?"

His taunting only makes you whimper even more. "I'm so close."

And because he just likes to get you all whiney and needy, Jungkook stops. Puts you down. Gets you facing the mirror as you protest his unfair stealing of an orgasm.

But then he's lining himself up again, getting ready to take you from behind. Spanks your ass ever so quickly.

Sinking into you again, Jungkook curses. "Tighter like this."

"Good?" You pathetically check, and Jungkook can't help but think it's sweet.

"Yeah, babe," he promises, and pretends as if it's completely usual for him to speak to you so tenderly. "Feels so fuckin' good. Missed you so much, gorgeous. You and this tight cunt."

"Romance," you joke through your needy whines. He smirks at this, and delivers a curt little spank to your ass.

"I can be romantic," he assures you, as if you aren't being soundtracked by the sound of your skin slapping together, his thick cock fucking itself into your soaked hole. 

His eyes rise from the steady gaze he'd had on your ass to your eyes. 

Slowing himself, Jungkook holds his cock inside you without thrusting. Says, "I made that photo you took of us in your room my fuckin' phone wallpaper. I listen to that asmr guy you like before bed, every single fuckin' night. I keep one of your ribbons tied around my gearstick. That romantic enough for you?"

There's an incredibly bashful smile on your pretty face, which contradicts the way in which your pussy is tightening around him in the most lewd of ways. You're giggling when you say, "Shut up and fuck me."

But then he's giggling too, just how you like him to be. Says, "I missed your body, but I missed you more. Stupid."

"You're stupid."

"You're stupider."

"Kook," you laugh, as he's completely forgotten the task at hand. The way that he looks at you, you'd be forgiven for thinking he has. Truthfully, the connection he has with you is so much more than what sex has ever been for him before. 

His hips lightly pulse, as he says, "Sorry. Where were we?"

"Think you were gonna make me cum."

"Ah, yeah. That. My bad."

His gentle thrusts begin to build pace once more. The grin on his face drops a little as he begins to concentrate on you. Watching him in the mirror, you're perplexed to be reminded of just how ethereal Jungkook looks when he fucks.

The deep ridge between his brows intensifies, as his mouth hands slack. His cheeks hollow a little, and his eyes remain entirely focused. Dark. Deep. Brooding.

As his hand dips around to gently stroke against your clit, Jungkook is just as taken away by the way you look. He isn't sure what it is that gets his heart so heavy in his chest, but he knows that he wants you to cum. Doesn't give a fuck about himself.

The walls of your cunt begin to tighten around his length as your moans deepen. You whine his name and he encourages a response, but neither of you can really talk. A numbness is washing over you, your balance unsteady.

"I'm gonna..." you begin, but find it impossible to finish.

"I know, baby," he nods all out of breath and desperately fucked out. "Give me what I want. Cum for me."

You trust and keep your eyes on him, but the nudging on his cock against your g-spot and the slow rubbing of your clit is just enough to tip you over.

"Kook," you whimper as your walls begin to tighten around him, but it's fruitless. There's a shake to your legs, and he's the only thing keeping you supported.

"Oh, fuck," he curses from the strength of your pussy around him. He's shaking just as much as you are. "Cream on this cock, baby. Oh, fuck. Yeah.Just like that. You're gonna make me cum, too. Gonna make me cum so fuckin' hard. All in your pussy. You want that, huh?"

It's as you're desperately whining, cumming all around his thick shaft that Jungkook feels his body lose control. There's a tightness to his balls, and a shudder to his sternum, that he hasn't felt since the last time he was in your bedroom. Last time he was in you, more specifically.

"Kook," you whimper his name, and that's when Jungkook really can't hold back.

"Yeah, babe," he rasps, as his hard thrusts become pathetic stutters. "I'm cumming."

The announcement isn't needed, for you swear you can almost feel it as his thick cum begins to fill you. The lack of a condom makes it all the more primal, the way his body shudders indicative of just how much cum he's filling you up with. 

His body collapses on yours a little, his clammy torso pressed to your back. The dress you're wearing is barely on properly, and the feeling of his skin against yours is catastrophic. As intimate as sex is, it's this right now, the beat of his heart thrumming against your spine that is the real disaster. How you can ever look him in the eye again is beyond you.

But then his lips are pressing chaste kisses to the curve of your neck, and his hands are squeezing at your hips. He doesn't pull out. Keeps himself warm inside you. Says, "How the fuck am I ever supposed to give you up, huh?"

That's the thing.

He isn't supposed to, and you damn well know it.

Reaching back for some tissue to help you out, Jungkook slowly withdraws. Holds his hand beneath your pussy, then replaces it with tissue. Turns you around and lets you take over.

"Here's a radical idea," you offer, not looking at him as you quickly make sure you're decent. Stay standing with your legs crossed, just in case. "Don't."

Pulling his shirt back over his head, Jungkook presses his back to the wall. There's a distance between you, yes, but you don't really feel it, 'cause it's purely physical.

And it's not like it lasts for very long either, 'cause Jungkook decides he needs to kiss you all over again.

"Alright," he whispers against your lips. "Say we don't. Say I wanna be yours. What the fuck do we do now?"

You shrug. The answers aren't yours to decide. It's up to you both.

"Well, firstly I'm gonna text Tae," you hum. "Tell him you're still an asshole and that I need to be let out immediately."

It's been half an hour.

He came to check on things about ten minutes ago.

The music might be loud, but not loud enough to drown out the way you guys fuck. 

Summer had been quiet. In his car, in your empty house, you've never had to keep it down before. Didn't even realise quite how loud you were being.

Which is why Jimin is the one who unlocks the outside bolt with a smirk a few minutes later, Taehyung watching on with a little disgusted grimace a metre or so back.

"Gross," he whisper shouts at you, but then he's smiling, too. Notices how Jungkook touches you—the hand he has on the small of your back, and the way he clasps your hand as you begin to walk ahead of him—and finds it impossible to be mad.

"C'mon," Jimin calls behind himself, leading you up and out of the basement. "We're going to the diner."

"We?" You question, incredibly confused.

"We." He simply says. Doesn't leave it up for debate. Gathers up the rest of the Untouchables (though Claudia is noticeably absent), and tells them the same thing he told you. Drags Taehyung along as well.

Jungkook was scared of integrating you into his life, but there's no other way to do it. Has to rip the band aid off.

As you walk into Montgomery's, hand in hand with the boy who had spent his summer wasting away with you in here, both of you realise that maybe it isn't such a huge deal.

Or at least, you do until Maria clocks you. Eyes darting from you, to Jungkook, and then to your gently clasped hands, she's in a state of absolute shock. Almost drops her tray.

"Sorry, what the fuck?!"

[littlelamy]

Could you write a Rafe x reader fic where reader says she wants to spend more time with Rafe, but he gets upsets and says something mean in the heat of the moment. Reader is upset and stops "bothering" him and initially Rafe doesn't realise it, but he figures out you're ignoring him

Maybe with a fluffy HEA ending, but if you want to keep it angsty I'm also all for it (:

hope you like it! ⭐️ it was a quiet friday night when you finally found the courage to bring it up. things with rafe hadn’t been the same for a while. he was always out with friends or buried in work, his phone practically glued to his hand. you could see him drifting further and further away, and it left you feeling like an afterthought. you missed him, missed the little moments when he’d look at you like you were the only person in the world.

so, you decided to say something—softly, carefully—as the two of you sat on the couch with takeout boxes scattered around you.

“hey…baby,” you started, keeping your voice light. “i was thinking… it’d be nice if we could spend a little more time together, you know? just us.”

rafe barely looked up, shoveling food into his mouth. “what’re you talking about?” he mumbled through a bite. “we’re together now, aren’t we?”

you forced a smile. “yeah, but… i mean like actually spending time together. like doing something fun. or even just… talking.”

he let out an irritated sigh, setting his food down with a clatter. “are you serious right now? i’ve got so much shit to deal with, and you’re really gonna start whining about ‘spending time together’? Jesus, can you just not be so goddamn needy for once?”

the words hit you like a punch. you froze, staring at him, trying to process the fact that he’d actually said that. rafe’s face was already turned away, clearly oblivious to the way his words had cut through you.

you felt your throat tighten, but you managed to swallow back the hurt, forcing yourself not to react. the last thing you wanted was to give him more reason to see you as a burden. so, you nodded, blinking down at your food, even though you suddenly couldn’t eat a bite.

“sorry,” you whispered, more to yourself than to him. but rafe didn’t hear, or maybe he just didn’t care enough to ask you to repeat it. he’d already gone back to his phone, acting like the conversation had never even happened.

that night, you made a decision. if rafe wanted space, you’d give him space. you stopped asking him to go out with you, to spend time together, to do any of the little things you used to enjoy. when he came home late, you didn’t wait up. when he sat down on the couch, you found something else to do. if he wanted room, you’d make sure he had more than enough of it.

at first, rafe didn’t seem to notice the change. he thought you were just busy with work or hanging out with friends, maybe that you’d taken his words to heart. it wasn’t until a few days had passed that he started to feel the shift, the strange, nagging quiet in the air whenever you were around.

you were no longer the warm, lively presence you used to be, filling the silence with laughter, stories, and little gestures of affection. instead, you felt distant, almost guarded, your movements careful, like you were tiptoeing around him. you didn’t smile at him the way you used to; you didn’t light up when he came home. you’d become polite, restrained, keeping just enough distance that he felt it even when he didn’t want to.

one night, rafe came home late, expecting to see you in the living room with a book or a show. but the lights were dim, the place eerily silent, and when he checked the bedroom, you were already asleep. he stood there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of emptiness. he brushed it off, but as the days went by, the feeling gnawed at him more and more, leaving him with an ache he couldn’t ignore.

finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. one night, he found you alone in the kitchen, stirring a cup of tea with your gaze far away. he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you, his expression unreadable.

“are you avoiding me or something?” he asked, his tone sharper than he’d intended.

you looked up, a flicker of surprise in your eyes before you masked it with a tight smile. “no, i’m not avoiding you, rafe. i just… didn’t want to bother you.”

that word—bother—hit him hard, dredging up the memory of his own callous words. he felt something twist in his chest as he realized what he’d done, how his careless anger had made you feel so small, like you didn’t even deserve to be there.

“fuck,” he muttered, raking a hand through his hair. “look, i’m sorry, alright? i was a complete asshole, princess. i was stressed, and i took it out on you, and i shouldn’t have done that.”

you shrugged, your face guarded, unreadable. “it’s fine. i get it. you’re busy, and i didn’t want to get in your way.”

“Jesus, stop saying that,” he mumbled, stepping closer, his voice softer now, almost pleading. “you’re not in my way. you’re the only person who… who makes all this shit bearable. i just didn’t see it until you started pulling away.”

for a long moment, you said nothing, just staring at him, weighing his words. finally, he took a tentative step forward, reaching for your hand. when you didn’t pull away, he felt a flicker of hope.

“let me make it up to you,” he whispered, his voice rough. “i’ll cancel my plans this weekend. we’ll do whatever you want, i swear. just… give me another chance.”

your gaze softened, and a small, hesitant smile crept onto your lips. “alright. one chance.”

he pulled you into his arms, wrapping you up in a tight embrace, his relief flooding through him. you relaxed into him, and for the first time in days, you felt the warmth return, that aching void in your chest slowly filling up again.

“i’m sorry, baby,” he murmured, his voice low, genuine. “i swear, i’ll never take you for granted again. you mean too fucking much to me.”

you let your head rest on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath you, his arms strong and comforting. and as he held you there, you felt the hurt start to fade, replaced by a quiet, growing hope that maybe, just maybe, things would be different this time.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @kissrotten @rafesangelita @sstargirln @rafedaddy01 @soldesole

[mggslover]

Unrequited love

In which reader has been haunted all her life by the ghost of unrequited love, always reminding her of everything she could never have. That is — until she met Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst x fluff x smut (18+) Content warnings: spoilers for s8e12, very angsty but no worries there's a happy ending Word count: 5,4k A/n: for anyone who can relate to not having their love reciprocated, I'm hoping you'll find your spencer reid soon

It’s stupid, really, to love someone so wholeheartedly. It’s even more stupid to expect them to love you back.

Never in your life had anyone reciprocated your love — hell, no one had even accepted it. Unrequited love was a burden that has clung to you all your life, a thread of rejection woven through the fabric of your earliest memories. 

You remember the moment clearly, when as a little girl you found your mother hunched over the dining room table, furiously wiping away tears she did not want you to see. You watched from afar, making sure she left the room when you tiptoed to the table, finding a piece of paper ripped out of a notebook. Your small finger traced the letters of the handwritten note. The words were jagged, some unfamiliar, making you skip them. You experienced a rush of pride and excitement when you could make out some words: leaving, sorry, woman, goodbye. It was the first time you’d read something that wasn’t written in the large colorful books Miss Abigail assigned in school. It wasn’t until a few days later, when your mother explained that your father wasn’t coming back, that the weight of the note fully sank in. From that moment on it felt like your fate was sealed. 

In middle school you had some friends, but when the moment came to pairing up for school trips, it was you being the one left out. You always had someone you would call your best friend, but you’d never be theirs. Someone always seemed to be better, more lovable, more wanted. 

In highschool, you got your first boyfriend, Timmy. You weren’t sure you loved him, but you wanted to be seen, to be noticed. So when he asked you out, you said yes. For a while, you reveled in the feeling of someone showing you off. That was until the day you overheard his friends, talking by the lockers.

“I swear, his tactic is working!” one of them said. “Jessica dumped James the second she saw Timmy walking hand in hand with Y/N through the hallways.” 

“Oh shit, man,” another friend laughed. “If I knew that, I also would’ve used a fake girlfriend to get to Hannah.” 

A fake girlfriend. The words echoed in your mind as you started to make sense of the situation. It suddenly clicked how Timmy only showed you off in public, only kissed you in the busy hallways, where people could see. It was never about you.

You decided to give love one more chance in university, but when a night that was supposed to be the first of many, ended in a one-night-stand and a “I’m sorry, but I don’t really see you that way”, you made yourself a vow: no more chasing love. You stopped giving your love to people who would never truly appreciate it, and instead, you gave that love to yourself. The library became your refuge, spending endless hours studying to give yourself the future you deserve. You passed your exams with flying colors and never forgot to reward yourself after every small victory. And when you landed a position at the BAU, making it as an FBI agent, you knew you made the right decision to never fall in love again. That was until you stepped into the office, and you saw him. Spencer Reid. 

—

“And this is doctor Spencer Reid,” your boss Hotchner introduced him with a nod. 

He was tall, awkward in the way only someone who was brilliant could be, but he smiled warmly as he waved a hand at you. “Hi.”

You smiled back and stuck out your hand instinctively. “Nice to meet you, I’m Y/N Y/L/N.”

He blinked at the gesture, looking uncomfortable. He swallowed, his voice uncertain. “It’s nothing personal, I just don’t like shaking hands.”

You tilted your head and laughed. “That’s totally fair. Do you know how many germs your hands carry?”

His eyes widened in surprise, as if no one had ever said that before. “I-I actually do! The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to-”

“Kiss?” you interrupted, a grin spreading across your face.

The words came out simultaneously, and you both laughed. A sound that felt... easy. Like something you hadn’t experienced before.

Someone you would later come to know as Morgan, who had been leaning against a desk, looked up at the two of you, eyebrows raised in disbelief as he shook his head. 

It was then you realized — there was something special about Spencer Reid. It was something unspoken, something more than just the intellectual connection. Before you even knew it, you had fallen in love.

—

You never confessed your feelings to Spencer, but you felt like there was an unspoken understanding between you. Every morning, you arrived at work with an oversweetened cup of coffee for him, and in return, he made sure you never went without your favorite sandwich from the shop around the corner, especially on days when you were too absorbed in a case to remember to eat. On your days off, you took each other on trips. Sometimes to a museum where you would explain the art in great detail, and he would pretend not to know any of the facts, just to hear you talk. Other times, you’d go to a movie screening, where he would simultaneously whisper translations of the foreign dialogue to you, making you giggle when his breath tickled your ear. You convinced yourself that this was what love was: understanding someone to the point of not needing words.

But how foolish were you to have forgotten about the shadow that lingered behind you, always ready to remind you of everything you could never have.

—

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Have you heard the news?” Penelope squealed in delight as she rushed toward you, the rhythmic click of her heels making a melody against the office floor. 

You glanced up from your desk, raising an eyebrow. “Based on the excitement, I’m going to assume you're not talking about the wildfires in California.”

“Oh no, no,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I’m talking about big news. The juicy kind.”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair as you sipped your tea. “Alright Pen, bring it on.”

Penelope’s grin widened. “Spencer has a girlfriend!” She yelped, hands flying to her mouth as she realized just how loud she’s gotten.

You blink as you try to process her words. “He finally adopted a cat?” 

Penelope shook her head vigorously. “Y/N, I mean a real girlfriend. An actual human being girlfriend!”

You scrunch your forehead, the words not quite connecting. “I don’t think I understand.”

Penelope leans in closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Derek told me that Blake told him that Spencer’s been making calls... to a woman.” She glances around quickly, making sure no one can overhear. 

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your smile drops at the familiarity of the situation. Spencer had been leaving the bullpen often recently. You’d always assumed it was because he was still struggling with his headaches and didn’t want the team to get worried. Not in a million years would you have expected Spencer was seeing someone.

Penelope continues speaking, but her words fade into the background as your thoughts spiral. “Excuse me,” you mutter, your voice barely above a whisper as you push yourself out of your chair and rush to the bathroom.

Once inside, you lock the door behind you. Your chest tightens, the familiar weight of a panic attack settling in as if it had never left. Your breath comes short and shallow, the room spinning slightly as you grip the sink. The air feels thick, suffocating even. For the first time in years you find yourself back in this situation, fighting to breathe.

—

After a while, the whispers and giggles about Reid's love affair had died down. Still, it took Spencer some time to feel comfortable enough to share more about her — Maeve Donovan, the brilliant, lovely woman who had stolen his heart. As his best friend, you were the one he turned to, the one who had to endure all the little details of their intimate phone calls.

And you tried, you really did. You tried to be the supportive friend, even when each word about Maeve felt like a thorn in your chest. You’d joke, asking him if he was sure Maeve wasn’t some sixty-year-old man catfishing him, or teasing him about how it didn’t count as a relationship if you’d never actually met the person. The snark was the only way you could cope with the sinking feeling every time he smiled when her name came up, the way his eyes lit up when he spoke of her. But Spencer was oblivious to your remarks. No matter how hard you tried to plant seeds of doubt in his mind, it never seemed to have any effect.

It was a sad thing to admit, but on nights when anxiety kept you awake, you couldn’t help but wish for their relationship to end. You prayed for a chance to tell Spencer how you really felt. You convinced yourself there would be time, that everything was going well, and eventually you’d find the courage to speak up. But on nights like these, you deeply regret never having thought of the possibility of another girl realizing how incredible Spencer is, and making a move before you ever could. 

Those feelings of jealousy turned into big regret, when Spencer came bursting into the bullpen, panic and fear evident in his eyes. He was frantic, certain that Maeve had been kidnapped. His suspicions turned out to be tragically true, and your world crumbled the moment the gunshot rang out, taking Maeve from him. Your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as Spencer broke down in front of you, and you couldn’t even reach out to comfort him, believing it was you who caused this. That the ghost you knew as unrequited love, finally gave you what you wished for. 

You wanted to scream, to turn back time, to take back every selfish thought. But now wasn’t the time for regret. When Spencer locked himself in his apartment, unwilling to speak to anyone, you made it your mission to be there for him. You were the only person he let in, and when the door creaked open, you were struck by the sight of him — pale, hollow-eyed, and worn down in a way you’d never seen before. Without a word, he pulled you into a tight embrace. The two of you cried together, until his neighbor shouted at you both for the noise. From that moment on, you’d take Spencer to your apartment. Making sure he had a warm, homemade meal waiting for him as you’d binge Doctor Who episodes, trying to get him to smile even just a little. Slowly, he began to open up, the weight of his grief pouring out in quiet conversations. And you made sure you listened to every word as you held him close, offering whatever comfort you could.

As the weeks passed by, the weight of the situation was becoming overwhelming. It wasn’t easy hearing the love of your life talk about another woman. The way he spoke about her, like she meant more to him after just a couple of months than you ever did in all the years you stood by his side. It was almost too much to bear. When you overheard a moment between Reid and JJ, where Spencer mentioned how he would’ve had kids if it weren’t for Maeve dying, you realized you couldn’t keep going like this. You needed time to process what you were feeling, to grieve what you’d lost — even if it wasn’t really yours to begin with. So, you called in sick for the next case. Hoping you could clear your mind, while the team was out of state.

—

So here you were, experiencing heartbreak like all those times before — rotting on the couch with a pint of ice cream as you watched reruns of Love Island. 

You jumped when a loud banging echoed from the front door. Your surprise faded as quickly as it came, knowing there was only one person that would bother you this late an hour. 

“Y/N, I know you’re in there. Open up!” Spencer’s voice rang out, firm and insistent.

With a sigh, you shuffled to the front door, trying to steady yourself before facing him. The moment you opened the door, you were met with Spencer, brows furrowed in concern and annoyance.

“Where were you? You didn’t show up on the jet, and you’re never late,” he said, brushing past you to step inside.

“Sure, let yourself in,” you muttered under your breath, closing the door behind him. “I wasn’t feeling well, had a headache,” you replied, keeping your tone casual.

Spencer paused, taking a quick glance around the room. His eyes landed on the TV blaring in the background and the half-empty pint of ice cream on the coffee table. He turned back to you, eyebrows raised.

“Your TV is on full blast, and you’re eating ice cream,” he said, his tone skeptical, clearly aware of your lie.

You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry, I just needed a break.” 

“A break?” He scoffed. “You never take breaks. We practically had to force you to stay home when you got shot. You’re always there, no matter what. I needed you, and you weren’t there.”

As much as you appreciated hearing that he needed you, this wasn’t the time to feel flattered by it. “Spencer, I know,” you started, your voice taut with frustration. “I just had my own things to worry about.”

“What things?” He stepped closer, his tone rising. “What could be more important than your work? Then being there for a friend when he needs you?” It was obvious how upset he was. “I was worried about you,” he continued, his voice breaking slightly. “I called you every day, and you didn’t pick up.”

His words hit harder than you expected, and a bitter laugh escaped before you could stop it. “What about me, Spencer?” you snapped. “Have you ever thought about me needing a break? Or am I not important enough for that?”

“Oh, please.” His voice dripped with disbelief. “You’ve always been there for me, but suddenly you can’t pick up your phone because you need time for yourself?”

“God, you’re such an ass,” you shot back, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

“Me? I’m the ass?” His voice pitched higher, his eyes widening in disbelief.

“Yes, Spencer! I told you I wasn’t feeling good. I needed time off.”

“You could’ve just picked up the damn phone!” he yelled, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you even realize how worried I was?”

“It sounds like you were more worried about yourself than me,” you countered, your tone icy.

His face twisted in frustration, but then his shoulders sagged. “Is that what you think?” He asked quietly, his voice trembling. “I was worried about you. Can you even imagine what it was like for me to call and get no answer?”

You swallowed. For a split second your mind drifted to Maeve, thinking that he might’ve felt the same fear as when she didn’t pick up the phone. You quickly put the thought away, he didn’t care about you like that.

“If you’d just asked Hotch, you would’ve gotten an answer right away,” you said defensively, crossing your arms to shield yourself.

“Oh, so Hotch knew?” His tone turned bitter, his eyes narrowing.

“Of course, Spencer. He’s my boss!”

“And I am your friend! I always tell you everything before I let anyone else know.”

You rolled your eyes, frustration taking over. “Well, that’s on you. Just because you feel the need to bother everyone with your problems doesn’t mean I have to do the same.”

The instant regret was written all over your face as the words left your mouth. Spencer’s expression shifted, looking completely stunned.

“Spencer, I didn’t mean-”

But the damage was done. His shoulders stiffened, his jaw tightening as he looked away.

“Please, Spence, I swear I didn’t mean it like that,” you said softly, your voice trembling as you reached out to him, but he instinctively stepped back.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry,” you pleaded, your voice cracking. “I don’t know why I said that.”

He shook his head, his lips pressing into a thin line. “Oh, but you said it. And you meant it.” His voice was quieter now, but somehow it felt heavier. The anger in his eyes had faded, replaced with something worse: disappointment.

“Spencer,” you whispered, the sound barely audible, terrified to say anything else that could upset him.

He looked down, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled shakily. When he finally looked back at you, his expression had softened slightly, though the hurt still lingered in his eyes. “Do you really think I’m someone who bothers people with my problems?” he asked, his voice raw with vulnerability.

“No!” you said quickly, the desperation clear in your tone. “I don’t know why I said that. I don’t think that at all. I’m so glad you opened up to me and trusted me with your feelings.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, rubbing his temples in frustration. “You ignored my calls. You avoided me. And then you said that. Jesus.” His hands fell to his sides as he let out a tired sigh, his exhaustion etched into every feature.

“Spencer,” you started, but he interrupted. “I don’t understand,” he said, looking at you like he was searching for answers he couldn’t find. “If you’re glad I talk to you about my feelings, why did you shut me out?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his question bearing down on you. “It’s just… a lot to handle, Spence,” you admitted. “I’m not a therapist. I don’t know how to deal with these feelings. I want to be there for you, I really do, but it takes a toll on me too.”

“It takes a toll on you too?” His voice rose, and you cursed yourself for triggering another outburst without meaning to. “I’m the one with ‘the problem’. I’m the one with the dead girlfriend! All you had to do was be there for me when I needed you.”

You exhaled heavily. “I’m getting a drink,” you muttered as you made your way over to the kitchen. Spencer followed behind you, not willing to give up yet.

“Of course,” Spencer said, with a sarcastic edge. “Grab a drink. That’ll fix everything.”

Ignoring him, you grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount of whiskey. You raised it to your lips, savoring the burn as you swallowed.

He crossed his arms, watching you with a raised eyebrow. “You know what? Go ahead. Keep ignoring the problem. That’s what you’re good at, right? Avoiding things.” He said, his tone filled with hurt. 

Your hand trembled slightly as you set the glass down. “I know you don’t believe me,” you said, voice shaking, “but I am trying.”

“Trying?” Spencer’s laugh was humorless. “You didn’t even call me. You just disappeared. I needed you, and you left. What kind of ‘trying’ is that?”

“God, Spencer, I didn’t want to avoid you. I wanted to pick up the phone, to explain everything, but I couldn’t. I knew I’d just hurt you more, and I couldn’t-” Your voice broke against your will. “I couldn’t risk ruining all the progress you’ve made.”

Spencer’s expression softened, his furrowed brow easing as confusion replaced his anger. “You’re not protecting me by keeping whatever it is that’s bothering you to yourself. You’re hurting me even more by shutting me out. I want to be able to help you when you’re struggling, Y/N.”

Your throat tightened, tears threatening to spill. You bit your lip, trying to hold your words in.

“Please,” he whispered, his hand gently taking yours. “Let me in. Let me help you like you’ve helped me.” 

You stared at him, your chest aching. How could you possibly tell him? How could you burden him with this truth when he was already carrying so much? But the way he looked at you, so desperate — it broke something inside you.

The words escaped before you could stop them. “I’m in love with you.”

Spencer froze, his heart skipping a beat as he loosened his grip on your hand, making you regret speaking up.

“You.. you’re in love with me?” He asked, his voice a mix of surprise and disbelief.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, guilt twisting in your chest.

He stared at you in silence, his gaze unreadable as he processed your words. After a long pause, he spoke up. “You’re sorry?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “I’m an awful friend,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

“No, no, no,” Spencer said quickly, stepping closer. His heart ached as he reached up to gently cup your face, brushing away your tears with his thumbs, hating to see you cry. “You are not an awful friend — you’re wonderful.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not wonderful, Spencer. I listened to you grieve every night, and still I felt jealous because she got your love, even if it was just for a second.”

His eyes widened. “Jealous?” he asked softly. “You were jealous of Maeve?”

You cringed at his words, shame tightening your chest. “I know, it’s disgusting. I get it if you never want to see me again.”

“Is that what you think? That I’d stop wanting to see you?” He shook his head. “How can you think I’d judge you for having feelings for me?”

“Because I blame myself, Spencer!” you cried. “I should’ve been happy for you, but I wasn’t. And now she’s gone, and I feel like it’s my fault.”

He closed the distance between you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for any of that. You didn’t make any of those things happen,” he reassured. “They were just… they were just an unfortunate turn of events. You didn’t have any control over it.” He held you tightly against him, trying to comfort you as his heart ached. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” you sniffled, but you weren’t able to pull yourself away, needing his touch.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to tilt your face up to meet his eyes. “I should touch you,” he said firmly. “I should hold you, and comfort you, and be there for you. Because that’s what friends do. That’s what I want to do.”

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, your voice quivering with emotion. “I did feel jealous, but please, don’t think for a second that I didn’t care. I’d do anything to bring her back.”

“I know you care,” he murmured into your hair. “I know you do. That’s why I could never think of you as a bad friend.”

You cried against his chest, the weight of everything finally crashing down. His arms tightened around you, his hold warm and grounding. “It’s okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve got you.”

You shook your head. “You shouldn’t be the one comforting me.”

“Yes, I should,” he said. His arms didn’t loosen, holding you as if he feared you’d vanish if he let go. “Your feelings matter. Your happiness matters. I don’t want you putting yourself aside for my sake.”

Something in his tone gave you the courage to lift your gaze. His eyes met yours, searching, filled with an emotion you hadn’t dared to hope for. Slowly, he reached out, his thumb brushing against your tear-streaked cheek with a gentleness that made your chest ache. 

“I mean it,” he said, his voice firm. “You matter to me, more than you probably realize.”

You leaned into his touch instinctively, the warmth of his hand calming you. “You can still talk to me,” you said quietly. “I just… I needed a break. But we can still have our talks.”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I know. And I’ll take you up on that.” 

His hand remained on your face as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a tender murmur. “I care about you. I always have, and I always will.”

The proximity was impossible to ignore as his thumb traced slow, soft circles on your cheek, his eyes locked on yours. “I’m sorry,” he began, his voice quiet and pained, “for not realizing sooner how you felt about me.”

“It’s fine, Spence,” you replied, lifting your shoulders. “I should’ve been more obvious.”

He let out a quiet sigh, his heart heavy with remorse. “You were, I should’ve known. Penelope and JJ never treated me the way you did.” He admitted. “I wasted so much time. I could have had you, but I was too blind to see it.”

“You… you would want to be with me?” you asked, surprise noticeable in your voice.

His eyes softened, his expression filled with disbelief. “Of course I would. How could I not? You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re caring, you’re beautiful...” His voice dropped to a tender hum. “You’re everything.” 

You looked away, as doubt crept in. “You’re just confused,” you said. “I gave you a lot to process all at once.”

“I’m not confused,” he said steadily, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not about this. I know how I feel. I know that it’s you that I want.”

Your heart ached at how convincing he sounded, but you couldn’t stop your uncertainty. “You’re not over her, Spence.”

The mention of Maeve made him swallow, his gaze flicked downward for a moment. “I know,” he said quietly, as he looked up at you. “I know I’m not completely over her. I may never be. But that doesn’t change how I feel about you.”

Tears welled in your eyes. “It doesn’t feel fair,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long. It doesn’t feel fair that I get to have you now.”

Spencer gently pulled you closer, the simple comfort of having you in his arms overwhelming. “You deserve everything, Y/N. You’ve been there for me through everything. You’re one of the most selfless, most loyal, most caring people I know.” 

The warmth in his gaze, the tenderness in his touch, made it impossible to look away.

“I need you,” he said, his voice a raw confession. “Not talking to you these past days was torture. I can’t do this without you. I need you in my life, Y/N. Not just as a friend.” He paused, his voice softening. “You deserve to be loved, please let me be the one to do that.”

You felt your breath catch, not finding the words to express how you’re feeling. “Can I kiss you?”

His lips parted in surprise, but his eyes softened, filling with an emotion that made your chest ache. He nodded, “Yes. Please.”

His hands were warm against your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was everything — urgent, raw, and filled with years of unspoken longing. A soft, desperate sound escaped your throat, conveying all the need you’d kept bottled up for so long. Spencer seemed to feel it, deepening the kiss as his fingers threaded into your hair, afraid you might slip away.

He effortlessly lifted you onto the kitchen counter, his body fitting perfectly between your legs as you wrapped them tightly around his waist. The closeness wasn’t enough to satisfy your need. Your fingers found his tie, fumbling to loosen it before letting it fall to the floor.

As you moved to the buttons of his shirt, Spencer groaned softly against your lips, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. The moment your hands met his bare skin, his breath hitched, and his grip on your hips tightened. The heat of his body was intoxicating, and every inch of him seemed to respond to your touch.

“God, Y/N…” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough and filled with desire. His forehead rested briefly against yours, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he caught his breath. But his hands never stopped, sliding down your sides and pulling you even closer.

You continued your exploration, your fingertips tracing the planes of his chest and shoulders as if trying to memorize him. 

You’d always imagined taking your time when this moment finally came — savoring every touch, every kiss. But now that it was happening, you couldn’t stop the rush coursing through you. The need to feel him everywhere, to prove that this was real.

“Spencer, please,” you whimpered against his mouth, your voice filled with desperation.

“I know, sweet girl,” he murmured, knowing exactly what you needed. His hands slid down to your thighs, gently parting them to make room for himself. The warmth of his touch had you gasping, and you let out a quiet cry of relief as his fingers moved to his belt, the soft clink of the buckle filling the air.

You didn’t want to waste any time, tugging your pants down your legs in a frenzy, eager to meet him halfway. Spencer’s gaze flickered to yours, his eyes dark with need, and in an instant, his mouth was on yours again.

His kiss was hungry, consuming. One hand gripped your waist, holding himself steady, while the other hooked beneath your leg, lifting it effortlessly to pull you closer. The heat between you is overwhelming, every touch igniting yet another spark. 

You threw your head back as he rubbed the tip of his cock against your wet folds. A soft gasp escaped your lips, your mouth forming a perfect ‘O’ as he slowly pushed into you, the stretch intoxicating. Your fingers gripped his back as you sunk your nails into his skin.

The sharp bite of pain drew a low, guttural groan from him, his face buried in the curve of your neck. His breath was hot against you as he murmured your name like a prayer.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you gasped, as he began to move, his hips rolling into yours. 

His breath hitched at your words, and he pressed a soft kiss to your jawline. “I know, baby,” he mumbled. “We’ll make up for it,”

A soft giggle escaped you, but it was quickly swallowed by a moan as his pace quickened. 

“Oh, Spence… I’m already close,” you confessed, never having reached an orgasm this fast.

“Thank God,” he groaned, his voice rough with desperation, as his grip on your hips tightened. He guided you to meet his thrusts, the intensity of his movements growing erratic, overwhelmed by pleasure. 

Unable to resist, you cupped his face, pulling him into an open-mouthed kiss as you moaned and gasped for breath. 

Your walls clenched around him, drawing a string of desperate whimpers from your lips as your head fell back. Spencer took full advantage of your exposed neck, sucking and biting on the skin, claiming you. His thrusts grew deeper, determined to hit the spot that made you cry out in pleasure.

His low, breathy moans filled the air, and you could tell he was close. Your legs began to shake around him, and as if perfectly in sync, your release crashed over you just as he shuddered and spilled into you.

“I love you,” you gasped, the words leaving your lips over and over as your orgasm rushed through you. Tears streamed down your face, blurring your vision. You couldn’t tell if it was the sheer intensity of the feeling or the flood of emotions you’d been bottling up for so long, but what you did know is that you meant every word.

Spencer stayed close, his breaths uneven as he gently rocked into you, drawing out the shared high. Slowly, he pulled back just enough to brush your hair out of your tear-streaked face. His eyes locked onto yours, and it felt like he truly saw you — every part of you.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he pressed his forehead to yours.

“I love you too.”

[buckyalpine]

Pick Me

Bucky x reader 

The new recruit has her eyes set of a certain set of super soldiers. Especially your super soldier. 

warnings: jealously, Angsty bangsty, but also so fluffy fluffy and smutty, clueless Bucky, he really means no harm, go easy on him.

A/n - editing to add: when I first started writing this I loved the concept and wrote a large chunk but then I left it for months cause I struggled to actually finish writing it. This wasn’t even the original ending I had planned but I just wanted to finish it so yes Bucky should’ve done way more, pretend there was a time jump where he does a better job with earning forgiveness 🥲

-

“Everyone, meet Nicole, our newest recruit for the field agent training program” Tony walked into the common room where you were sprawled out on the couch with Nat, Sam and Wanda while a young woman walking confidently behind him. “She’s going to be staying with us for a couple of months to train before she goes onto the the field” Tony turned back to her, bringing her to his side. 

“I’m sure you know everyone but let me introduce you to them anyway. This is the very Natasha, Wanda, Sam and y/n” 

“Hey Nicole” You gave her a warm smile, happy to welcome her while everyone else also got up to greet her. “Nice to meet you” 

“Oh, ew, just call me Nic! I don’t really go by Nicole” She scrunched her face at the sound of her full name, her eyes scanning the room, clearly looking for someone. “Don’t suppose the very Captain America and Sergeant Barnes are here?” 

The hopeful uptick in her voice made it clear that’s who she’d been searching for. Right on cue, the two super soldiers walked into the living room on their way to the kitchen after a morning run. 

“Speak of the devils and I do mean devils” Tony snorted beckoning the men to meet the new recruit. “Rogers, Barnes, this is Nicole, preferably Nic” 

“Hello handsome” She gave Bucky a bashful smile before turning to Steve and batting her lashes, “and handsome” 

“Nice to meet you” Steve reddened at the way she gripped onto his hand before slinking over to the brunette, purposely sticking out her left hand so he’d shake with his metal one. “And you Sergeant” 

Bucky gave her a smile and quick shake, excusing himself to get some water while Steve quickly trailed behind him. Tony went on to take her to her room which was on the same floor as yours, all the other spare rooms occupied by a few others who had already started training. Nicole returned to the living room moments later with sweats and a hoodie, her hair tied up, plopping down onto the sofa beside Sam. 

“Hey, were doing a girls night, movies, junk food, wine, you wanna join us?” Nat offered with a smile hoping to make the new recruit feel more welcome even though a part of her was wary. 

“It’s a lot of fun, I was just about to get some snacks for tonight, let me know what you like” You add with a smile, only to be met with a scoff.

“Mmm, hard pass on that, wine isn’t really my thing, thanks though” She gave the group a tight lipped smile before turning back to the two super soldiers who had also joined at some point, scrolling through phones they finally knew how to use. 

“What are you boys up to tonight” She threw them a smile while laying back on the couch and kicking her feet up, letting her hoodie ride up in the process. 

“Bucky and I were actually just going get in a work out, nothing much tonight” He said with a smile, not noticing the way Nicole’s eyes lit up. 

“Oh wow I actually haven’t been by the gym yet but I guess it’ll be where I spend most of my time for the program” 

“You could join us if you’d like, we can show you around” Bucky offered, also missing the smirk that crossed her face, only seeing her bounce right up with an enthusiastic nod. 

“Really? That would be great, I’d really appreciate it!” 

“Of course, anytime. We’re just about to head down soon” Bucky stretched as he got up, along with Steve, waiting for her to change before heading down. She got up and went off to her room while you picked at the skin on your fingers. You felt a pang of something at the pit of your stomach at Bucky’s offer but you knew he was just trying to make the girl feel like she was part of the team. He knew more about feeling left out than anyone else; of course he’d never want anyone else to feel the same way. 

Still.

Something was off.

You shook off the inkling of insecurity you felt, not wanting to over think his intentions. You and Bucky were not official yet but everyone knew there was tension and a clear unspoken dynamic between you both. It was just a matter of time. Unless he had his sights on the new girl...

No.

He wouldn’t do that. 

Right?

*****

“She’s getting really comfortable around those two” Nat cocked an eyebrow watching Nicole have a field day sparring with the two men, throwing herself onto Bucky in particular, giggling when he’d help correct her stance or catch her before she slipped. Every since she joined them at the gym, she made a point to only work out when they were both there, finding excuses when anyone else would offer to help her train. 

“I guess they are really experienced, so it makes sense...” Your voice trailed off, trying to reason why she was practically glued to their side, again ignoring the uneasiness you felt when Bucky picked her up with ease and set her back on her feet. 

“Uh-huh, we’re all experienced” Nat rolled her eyes, plastering on a fake smile when the three finished up on the sparring mat, making their way over to the both you. “You three have a good workout?” 

Steve blinked, noting the iciness In Nat’s voice though Nicole seemed unbothered. 

“They’re great, can’t beat having the two best soldiers train me” She drawled out, giving them a wink. Bucky couldn’t help the blush that spread to his cheeks, not used to being praised and you couldn’t help the jealously that started to gnaw at you again. 

No.

Relax. 

“Anytime, Nic” He shrugged while Nat retched internally, deciding to cut through that conversation before it went further. 

“You know, if you come by in the afternoons, Agent Hill hosts a great self-defense workshop for women, great way for you to do some networking as well” Nat gauged the way Nicole’s nose scrunched, shaking her head. 

“Women’s workshop, sound’s like a drama fest waiting to happen, honestly most of my friends are guys, makes life easier, thanks though” her eyes didn’t leave the brunette, placing herself perfectly between both soldiers. “Besides, I’m pretty good with self-defense already, that's why I got these two helping me with a little extra” 

“Anyway! Y/n and I were talking about the event Stark is hosting later night. You’re both coming, right?” Nat looked at the two men before her, purposely avoiding the Nicole but it didn’t seem to matter. 

“Are you coming as well?” Bucky asked her, her eyes lighting up again, quickly recomposing herself after. “You could meet a few of the other agents too, get to know some more people” 

“Uh sure, I could come by for a bit” She shrugged, coming off as indifferent while shaking with excitement on the inside. “Thanks, Sarge” 

You sucked in a breath at the name she kept calling him, always dropping a suggestive tone in her voice. Or maybe you were over thinking it. It was perfectly plausible she was just being nice to the person who was making an effort to make her feel welcomed. Maybe she had bad experiences in other places that made her wary of women, hence why she only stuck to all the guys on the team. You tried to wrack you brain for answers that would make you feel a little better but came up short. 

But you didn’t want to be petty. 

You were more mature than this. 

“We have plenty of dresses if you want to come by and get ready together” You offered again, mustering a smile, making a final attempt to befriend the new recruit but she didn’t even look your way, fully focused on the brunette. 

“Uh- not really the dresses and heels type. I’m more of a sneakers girl to be honest” She tossed her pony tail over her shoulder, missing the way Nat’s eyes nearly rolled out of her head while you nodded, watching her sway her hips as she walked off. “I’ll drag myself over if I’m feeling it” 

“Oh-okay, then we’ll just see you there!” You called after her while Nat dragged you off, uninterested in your constant attempts to be friendly. 

“C’mon, lets get you ready. I’m going to make you look so hot, Barnes ends up on his knees” The red head smirked while you squeaked, feeling your face heat up.  “We’re putting you in that red dress, the one that makes his pants feel too tight, don’t think I didn’t catch him adjusting himself the last time you wore it”

“Nat!” You hissed, hoping he didn’t hear, the both of you in a fit of giggles as you made your way to your room. “Oh my god” you hid your face while she dug through your closet, pulling out the tiny dress that hugged your body perfectly, the red color making you stand out in the best way possible. 

“Go shower while I get all the make up out, I’m tired of miss pick me trying to get a buy one get one free deal with those two” 

You snorted, hopping into the shower, letting the hot water destress your muscles, feeling a little more hopeful with the dress choice you were going with. Nat didn’t waste any time; as soon as you were out, your hair was styled, make up done and heels strapped. You knew you looked good when both Sam and Tony did a double take, letting their eyes shamelessly linger on you with low whistles. 

“Y’know if you’re done playing games with terminator, I’d be happy to take his place” Tony wiggled his eyebrows while you giggled, taking a seat on the plush couch of the lounge where everyone else sat. 

“What are you ladies drinking” Steve came over with a tray of drinks from the bar, already well aware of what each person liked to typically order. 

“I’m good with a beer” Nicole shrugged, rolling her eyes when you took the pink drink from the tray, “Ugh, I don’t know how you drink those, they’re so sweet, do you even taste anything at that point?”

You shrugged, quietly taking a sip of the raspberry lemonade while she gulped her beer, signaling for another after slamming her bottle down. 

“You guys took forever to get ready, this is why I can’t deal with makeup and dresses n’shit” she snorted, directing her comment mostly at you, “That’s a pretty bright color, I thought tonight was supposed to be lowkey?” 

“Well I think you ladies look beautiful” Thor boomed, not catching the snark in Nicole's voice, his smile wide and voice completely sincere. “Especially you, Lady y/n” 

“Thank you Thunder” You smiled, though the giddiness you felt initially had taken a second hit for the night. He beamed, setting down a bottle of Asgardian mead, searching for the two soldiers.  

“Alright, where are the two that need this” He looked around for Steve and Bucky, since they couldn’t get drunk off of regular alcohol. Bucky strode in clearly dressed to kill, in all black from head to toe. Steve joined his side, their faces lit up like it was Christmas day seeing the crystal decanter in the God’s hands. Bucky’s eyes flicked back to you, his breath hitching in his throat, seeing you in his favorite dress. 

“Fuck sweets, you look- 

“C’mon Sarge, how about a little competition” Nicole nudged Bucky, cutting off the trance he had on you, her shoulder pressing into his, biting her lip and eyeing the alcohol, “Let’s see how many shots we can do” 

“This might be a lot to handle doll” Bucky chuckled while you froze hearing what he called her. Her eyes lit up again, quickly glancing over to you, her eye brow quirking before leaning into him more. 

Since when did he call anyone else doll. 

You felt your stomach sink, taking another long sip of your drink instead, but nothing distracted you from the banter that was taking place before you. 

“Ugh, finee, I’ll stick to regular vodka, c’mon Buckyyy, lets gooo!” She practically clung off him waiting for him to pour shots, inches away from crawling into his lap as he grabbed the bottles. You couldn’t tell if the flush from his cheeks was from the alcohol or the constant giggles Nicole made whenever he spoke but either way, you didn’t want to watch any longer. 

“Where are you going” Nat grabbed your arm as you got up to leave, though you didn’t need to say anything for her to understand. Her green eyes glared at the tipsy solders who were now busy with a game of pool, surrounded by the rest of the team, Nicole practically crawling up Bucky’s legs each time it was his turn. “For fucks sake-

“They’re just having fun, don’t worry about it”  You stopped Nat before she stormed over, shaking your head. As much as you wanted to red head to have her way with any of the three at this point, you couldn't be bothered. You were not about to fight for Bucky’s attention; if he wanted to give it to you, he would...

Right? 

You thought things would go back to normal at some point. But it didn’t. Nicole made a point of training twice a day, anything to get her hands on the brunette. Anything to feel the cool metal of his hand on her. In fact she’d taken up most of Bucky’s time outside of just training, always finding ways to tag along with Steve as well, all while avoiding the rest of the team.

*****

“What's wrong sweets” Bucky could tell something was on your mind while he stroked your back, his body still warm from the way he took you apart at least 3 times before filling you up till you were dripping and soaking his sheets. He had finally gotten an afternoon off, tossing you over his shoulder when he found you in the kitchen, not letting you get a word in as he shut the door behind him. You wanted to argue back that he couldn’t just have access to you any time he felt like according to his convenience, but as soon as his soft lips were on you, you melted, turning into a moaning mess seconds later. 

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages” You shrugged, toying with the corner of Bucky’s blanket, starting to feel more like you were just a body to warm his bed than someone he actually wanted to be with. “We haven’t really hung out recently” 

You had let yourself relax into his hold only for him to curse under his breath a second later after he noticed the time. He shifted you off him, making his way over to the closet to pull over his jeans and Henley before scrambling around for his wallet and keys. 

“Bucky, what are you-

“Sorry doll, I forgot I promised to take Nicole to the corner diner, showing her around a little bit cause she’ll be staying for a few extra weeks”

Fantastic.

“You spend a lot of time with her” You didn’t want to come off as jealous, keeping your voice even, though you were close to tearing someone's head off. Bucky didn’t seem to notice, humming in agreement while sitting at the edge of the bed to pull on his socks.  

“Yeah, she’s fun!” Bucky said casually, which only made the weight in your stomach feel heavier. “She almost beat Steve in MarioKart, just when he thought he was unstoppable”

“Hm” You didn’t bother saying anything else while Bucky threw on his jacket, patting down himself to be sure he didn’t miss anything. He caught the way your face had fallen, his cool metal fingers slipping under your chin to tilt your face up. 

“How about we hang out after? Around 7, we’ll watch a movie together, okay? I’ll grab dinner for us. Promise doll” He kissed your forehead before jogging off, closing the door behind him.

You were ready by 6, too excited to wait till 7, having showered and changed into something comfy, laying out Bucky’s favorite snacks and adding a few more soft pillows to the bed. You knew it was still early so you didn’t mind lounging around for a bit, anxiously checking the time as it neared closer and closer to when he was supposed to show up. 

An hour later, it was 7. 

Then 7:30. 

And then 8.

By 9, you had left everything as is, blinking back the hot tears that wanted to spill, retreating back to your own room, not wanting to see him at all, even if he did have a good excuse for not showing up, which was highly unlikely. You shut the door, throwing on an oversized t-shirt and crawling into bed, burying yourself under the covers, no longer bothering to hold back the tears that began to soak your pillow. 

****

Bucky cocked his head curiously, seeing his bedroom door left ajar, wondering why it was open when he definitely closed it before leaving. As soon as he stepped in, his heart dropped to his stomach seeing the pillows that were propped up against the headboard, his favorite snacks piled on the fluffy blanket, your fuzzy bunny slippers left behind beside his bed. 

He cursed under his breath when he realized the time, remembering his promise to you, running straight to your room, only to find it closed with the lights turned off. He tried knocking only to be met with silence, carefully turning the handle and letting himself inside. 

“Doll?” He felt his heart break further seeing the small lump under a mountain of blankets, curled up into a ball “Oh, doll” He strode over, sitting at the edge of your bed, careful not to wake you if you were asleep, his hand gently tucking a strand of hair from your face. 

“What” Your voice cracked, hoping he’d think its from sleep and not the fact that you had been crying. 

“I’m so sorry sweets, we lost track of time, we went out to grab food and then Sam suggested we check out that new arcade just down the street” 

We were supposed to do that you thought to yourself, swallowing down the lump in your throat, refusing to let your emotions get the better of you. 

“And then Steve and Sam had to leave half way cause they had a mission early in the morning. Nicole wanted ice cream so we went by Carla’s before coming back-

“You took her to Carla's?” You cut Bucky off, your heart breaking further. That particular ice-cream shop always felt like something special you shared with Bucky, the place he took you to when neither of you could sleep. It was the place you shared your first kiss with him, the place where he said he felt something between the two of you. It’s not like you owned the store but it felt like the final straw, your resolve finally breaking. 

“Yeah, I-

“Just go Bucky” There wasn’t a hint of iciness in your voice; just disappointment and defeat, both far worse than you being angry. Bucky froze, pulling your blanket away from you, only for you to push his hand away, burying yourself further into the sheets. 

“Doll?”

“Don’t call me that” It was the indifference in your voice that left him hurt and confused, mouth opening and closing, “Please leave” 

“Sweets, I can make it up to you, I promise-” 

“It’s fine James” You shrugged, pulling the sheets higher up, not willing to speak anymore, knowing you’d burst into tears again if you did. Bucky reluctantly decided to let you sleep, figuring you’d hear him out the next day but no.

How wrong he was. 

You avoided him in the morning. 

And the day after that. 

Nearly a week had gone by and you didn’t spare him a second glance, always finding an excuse to evade him whenever he trailed behind you. It didn’t help that Nicole attempted to stay glued to his side, not giving him chance to get you alone. 

*****

“What’s with you” Sam watched Bucky slump down onto the sofa, where everyone else lounged around, his face sullen from a lack of sleep, grumpiness amplified because why were you avoiding him so much? 

“Y/n isn’t talking to me” He shrugged, while Nat glared at him. 

“I wonder why” the red head mumbled, rolling her eyes at his confusion. 

“When was the last time you guys spoke” Steve inquired, equally concerned about why you were ignoring his best friend. Bucky was the last person to share stories about his love life but at this point he was desperate. He recalled the events of the last time he spoke to you, promising a movie night, going out with Nicole, taking her for ice cream, running late, apologizing to you afterwards, where did he go wrong? 

“I didn’t mean to forget- 

“Bucky!” Nat slapped him upside the head while he yelped, looking at her with puppy eyes. 

“What did I do?”

“Barnes, you absolute doorknob, you took her to all the spots you take y/n to, you’ve been spending all your time making little miss I’m one of the guys feel comfortable, you’ve made y/n seem invisible and you’re wondering why she’s not talking to you?” Bucky blinked while Nat continued, her annoyance only growing when she saw a message from Nicole pop up on Bucky’s phone. 

“You treat Nicole like your girlfriend. Imagine some new guy joins us, makes a point of eye fucking y/n the entire time, finding ways to constantly flirt with her and touch her, you’d be fine with it? Imagine he avoids hanging out with the guys but makes all the time in the world to chase after anything with breasts. On top of that, how would you feel if y/n went out of her way to make said guy feel more welcomed when he clearly just wants to get into her pants. You’d be fine with it?!”

Bucky shook his head, though still not fully understanding because Nicole was just a friend, not someone he’d even be into. Plus, its not like she was into him like that, right? 

“But Nicole doesn’t want to-” Bucky started, shutting his mouth when Nat nearly hissed, staring at him while he did the mental math, “Nicole wants to get into my pants?” Bucky looked at Nat wide eyes, ducking the cushion she was about to whack at his face, all the pieces finally clicking together. He groaned, running a hand over his face, realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. Just as Sam and Steve were about to hum in agreement with Nat, she glared at them, their eyes growing wide.

“And you” Nat turned to glare at Steve, his shoulders slumping when he realized he wasn’t in the clear. He squeaked when Nat pulled his ear, giving it a squeeze, “What were you thinking. You didn’t once think it was weird she only trained with you two? Haven’t any of you noticed Nicole doesn’t hang out with any of us, Just you?” Nat waved her hand at the men that sat before her, their dumb stuck faces only adding to her annoyance. “Idiots” 

As much as Bucky wanted to hit his head onto a brick wall, he didn’t have time to waste, immediately springing up from the couch to look for you. He checked everywhere he could but you were nowhere to be found. He was so desperate, he found himself shuffling outside of Tony’s lab, hoping FRIDAY would give him your location. 

“You’re asking for a lot Barnes, y/n might add my name to the hit list if I tell you where she is” 

“Please” Bucky was ready to beg on his knees while the billionaire huffed, watching the former assassin look like a lovesick puppy. He cocked an eyebrow, noting the glassiness of Bucky’s eyes on his desperate face, nodding before calling for FRIDAY to look for you. “Also, I need another favor...” 

****

“Y/n, babygirl” He’d never felt such relief before, seeing you make your way to your room, coming back from your hiding spot from the roof, the scowl on your face clearly showing you weren’t trying to talk to anyone one your way over. 

“Oh, I’m babygirl now? Has doll now been reserved for Nicole” You couldn’t hold back the sneer in your voice, walking away faster, ignoring his calls. 

“Baby, please!”

No. 

“Baby, wait!” Bucky chased after you, not willing to let another day go by without you knowing exactly how he felt. He managed to get hold of your hand, gently tugging you towards his chest and spinning you till your back was against the wall, his chest nearly pressed to you. “Please, I-I need to talk to you, tell you how I feel” 

“There’s nothing to talk about”

“Yes there is” His voice was earnest, baby blues searching your downcast eyes, his finger tilting your chin up to look at him, “There’s so much to talk about, I adore you” 

“Do you also adore Nic?” You scoffed, while Bucky’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment, the pink spreading up to his ears.

“There’s no Nic or Nicole, theres just a y/n, my y/n, only you doll” You rolled your eyes at his response, trying to move away but Bucky wasn��t having any of it, keeping you pressed against him, “I’m sorry darling, I didn’t realize what she was doing or get her intentions. I thought she just wanted to get to know the team better”

“Wow” you huffed under your breath, wishing you had the space to flick the super soldiers forehead. 

“I know, I’m an idiot, and I’m an even bigger idiot for not making it clear I’m so utterly and desperately in love with you” Bucky bit his lip as soon as the words left his mouth, he’d said everything under the sun except those words before. But they were true and he’d kept it inside long enough. “I love you, I love you, fuck, I love you”

You squeaked in surprise when he scooped you up in his arms, tossing you over his shoulder, walking over to his bedroom, smiling when he felt your small fists hitting his back, your butt wiggling to be put back down. 

“Barnes, put me down, you can’t just say you love me and then carry me away like a complete ogre!” He set you down, kicking the door shut behind him before wrapping his arms around you tightly again, falling more in love with your irritated pouty face. 

“I love you sweet girl. God, I’m so in love with you”

“You’re an absolute idiot”

“An idiot who is in love” 

“You’re so cheesy” You willed yourself not to smile, ignoring the butterflies that fluttered at his words and love struck eyes. “you’re still a dick”

“I know. M’sorry angel, I didn’t realize what I was doing, I never wanted to hurt you. I should’ve known something was up when all she wanted to do was train 24/7 but I guess I misunderstood her intentions cause I didn’t see her as anything else. I’ve only ever had eyes for you baby, you have my heart. You always will” 

“Where is she right now anyway?” You melted into his chest, closing your eyes at the feeling of his lips pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Isn’t she supposed to be leaving soon?” Bucky didn’t respond, his hands starting to wander your body instead, slipping up your shirt, rubbing soft circles on your hips. Without warning, he picked you up again, tossing you on the bed and pouncing on you, peppering your face with kisses. 

“Bucky what are you doing” You giggled feeling his beard tickle your skin as he started to trail kisses down your neck. 

“I may have requested Tony to have her stay an extra night” Your face twisted in confusion at his words but the devious look on his face made your tummy flutter. 

“And he happily agreed because...”

“Because...?”

“I want her to hear how good I can make the girl I picked feel” Bucky smirked as he crawled off you, stripping his clothes off before tearing yours off immeitedly after. “M’not gonna waste another second, gotta let the whole compound know who my best girl is” 

****

“OH G-GOD J-JAMES FUUCCCKKK” 

“That’s it pretty princess, that’s it, cum on my dick baby, my good girl, fuck you’re so good to me, look at that, God you’re soaked baby”

“Jesus Christ” Nicole huffed, no longer able to ignore the moans coming from Bucky’s room while the rest of the team pretended to be none the wiser, your loud love making carrying all the way down the hall. Bucky happily disabled the sound proofing in his room before pushing his cock in as deep as it would go, railing you into the mattress. 

“Baby you look so pretty when you’re all stretched out like this, c’mon you can take more, spread those legs for me baby, open up, c’mon, lemme in” 

“HNG PleasepleasepleaseJames” 

“So perfect when you beg, cock’s all yours mama, m’all yours, go on and use me, that’s it, ride this dick, you own me” 

“Bucky, gonna-c-cum, gonna-cum!”

“Cum for me princess, God I love you” 

“You want a snack?”

“Nick?”

“Uh-Nicole?”

“Huh?” Nicole whipped her head around to where Steve was innocently holding out the bowl of popcorn, while Sam stood up to grab more snacks before the movie started. She stared at everyone surrounding her acting as if they couldn’t hear the way you were screaming your vocal chords raw, the super soldier moaning louder than you, “N-no, I’m fine”

Tony cocked an eyebrow at the way her jaw clenched, mindlessly scrolling through her phone while Bucky’s thrusts punctuated with each word. 

“Y’feel so. Damn. Good. baby, could spent my whole life like this making love to you” 

“Fuck, I love you James” 

“Ugh- they’re so loud” Nicole rolled her eyes again in hopes that someone would feel the same but all she got were blank stares back. 

“I mean, terminator is practically in love with her” Tony shrugged while the others nodded in agreement.

“They’re cute. It’s about time they made it official, don’t you think?” Nat asked sweetly staring directly at her while Steve tried to chime in as well, his cheeks burning hot pink between the sounds of skin slapping and moaning. 

“They sound so happy together” he stuttered out while Sam snorted, choking from laughter. 

“Oh God, oh god, fuck-Jamie-JAMIE” 

“Yup, real happy”

“I-I think I’m actually gonna call it at early night, stay at the recruiting center tonight instead” Nicole headed straight to the main doors without looking back, the rest of the team giving each other satisfied smirks. 

Bucky collapsed beside you, panting, his short locks clinging to his forehead, a thin sheet of sweat covering his body. He truthfully stopped caring about what Nicole could or couldn't hear half way through, meaning every single word he said as he took you apart over and over again. You giggled at his shy smile when he pulled you into his chest, pulling the sheets over you both, kissing your forehead. 

“I love you pretty girl. I love you so much” 

[intoxicated-chan]

angsty fight between miguel and wife!reader

and then they make up yayayayay

Give Me Reasons We Should Be Complete

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel has been pushing you away for some time now. After a talk with a friend, you and Miguel try to sort things out.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “DANCING IN THE DARK” by Joji. Writing this made me think back on past crushes/lovers. But thank you for your request! I am also holding back on writing smut because it keeps getting labeled and it takes me longer to write.

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 1.4k

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, angst-to-fluff, swearing, Miguel is kinda a dick head, mentions of sleep deprivation…

Want more Miguel content? Check out my MASTERLIST!

You stood in his cold and dark office. The best source of light was his laptop but his huge frame blocked most of the light. You managed around the crumbled paper and thrown desk objects with a plate in hand.

“Miguel?” You peer over his shoulder, “I made you dinner.”

He nods.

“You know you haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

He nods again.

“And you know that you’ve been here for a long time. I think it’s best for you to-”

“Take a break?” Miguel interrupts you, “I don’t have time for that.”

“Miguel, I’m sure whatever it is, it can wait a few minutes. All I’m asking is for you to eat something.” You try to set the plate down.

“I thought I made it clear that I do not want to be bothered. You’re distracting me. Leave.”

He didn’t mean it like that… He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that. He didn’t mean it like that…

“But Mig-”

“I said go.” He growls, his eyes turning its blood red from anger, “You’re becoming a nuisance.”

He didn’t mean it like that.

“Okay.” You tried not to let the crack in your voice show. You didn’t even bother to leave the plate behind because you knew it was going to be wasted.

“And don’t bother me again.” You heard him say as you left his office.

You took deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down before you burst into tears. But your hands shook, nearly dropping the plate.

You choked down your sobs and let your tears fall, the plate was left in the fridge, and you pushed yourself to your bedroom. It was basically yours now since Miguel was sleeping in his office.

The sheets no longer lingered on his cologne and any sign of his presence was gone, other than his clothing and a few photos. The room has become a mess of discarded clothing, old plates and cups, and candy wrappers.

How long has it been since Miguel showed affection? Or even looked at you?

This was normal behavior for Miguel, right? You should know, you’re married to him. You’re his wife. But he experienced loss, unlike you. You didn’t want to judge him for how he deals with his emotions, he’s emotionally distant. You knew that from the start.

And because of this, you felt like he deserved more than what you could give him. It’s what kept you going through the many times Miguel tore your heart, how it squeezed in pain at his actions and words. How you look the other way and ignore his hurtful words.

You couldn’t sleep. You left the still cold bed and dressed in something warm and headed up to the roof.

You sat on the edge, looking at Nueva York. How beautiful it looked during the night, which is one of the reasons why you liked sitting up here.

“Sitting all by yourself?” You tense up only to relax when you know that voice, “At this time? All alone?” Peter B. lands next to you, his daughter in his arms.

“I would ask my husband to join me but he’s too busy.” You respond truthfully.

“Again? He’s been at this all week.” He sits next to you.

“Yeah.” You huff.

“And… how are you holding up?”

“I’m fine.”

“Really? Because it doesn’t look like it.” He offers Mayday who reaches out to you.

You take her and set her down on your lap, “I just don’t know what to do, everything I do seems to bother Miguel. Checking up on him, bringing him food. It feels like he’s doing this on purpose.”

“Miguel’s always been difficult and from the time I spent with him… He’s different, not like the rest of us. He’s accepted his fate as Spider-Man and believes he’s destined for bad things 24/7. But good things do come along, like you. I think… I think he’s trying to come to terms that he can get it because he deserves it.”

Mayday coos, pulling at your hair, “And I think Miguel is scared. He puts on his tough act because he has to, yet he’s afraid to admit he’s scared. Normally, people would’ve given up on him. Why haven’t you?

“Till death do us part. I don’t want to lose him. I don’t give up on him because when you love someone, you love them every single day as who they are.”

“Talk about romantic.”

“Oh please.” You look down at Mayday, “Plus I think-”

“There you are.” You jump and this time, you remain tense, “I was looking for you.”

“Now you’re looking for me?” You respond, refusing to turn your head.

“It’s late, (Y/n). It’s dangerous.”

“I’m here, she’s alright.” Mayday jumps into her father’s arms.

“I’ve already had enough of you. Please, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” You tell him, following Miguel inside.

You head to the bedroom, “Where are you going?”

“Bed.”

“(Y/n)-”

“I’m tired and I do not want to be bothered. That includes you too, Miguel.”

“Excuse me?” He follows you into the bedroom.

“You heard me.”

“Please, (Y/n), talk to me.” Miguel begs.

“I’m sorry, did you just say talk? Like I have been trying to do for the past week?”

“(Y/n)-”

“You know what? No, no. You do not get to try to get me to talk after all of this. I have been trying, I have been all in. All I asked of you was to look after yourself.”

“I know.”

“You know? You KNOW?” You scoff rather loudly, “Did you know that Lyla has even talked to me about your behavior? I’m worried about you Miguel. All the damn time, even more when I see you not eating and staying up all night. All I ask is one minute, one bite of the damn food.”

“I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Is sorry all you have to say? Not even a half assed excuse?” You see Miguel trying to form a sentence but nothing leaves his left and his head hangs low, “I need to be alone.”

You walk past him but he grabs your arm, “Please don’t leave.” He says, “Please don���t walk out that door.”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, you could have the bed.” You look up at him.

“I love you, (Y/n). I know I don’t say it as much but I fucking love you. He’s right, you know. I am scared. Scared of everything. Because at first, I didn’t think I could have that, have you. You let me hurt you and that is unforgivable.”

He’s crying. Looking right at you, letting himself be bare right in front of you. His grip on your arm loosens and his hands come up to your face, cupping your cheeks. You could hear his staggered breathing, trying to keep himself composed.

“But I wasn’t lying when I said I love you, I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted a family, and I wasn’t lying when I said that you make me believe in love.”

“I’m always here for you, Miguel. You don’t have to go through things alone, but when you want to, I’m here.” You take one of his hands into yours, pulling it away from your face but keeping a tight hold on it.

“It’s not that easy. I hurt you, I understand why you don’t want to.”

“I love you, Miguel. We’ll work on this. I promise you.” After a moment, Miguel practically tackles you, nearly falling to the ground. The hug is tight and warm, and you could feel your shirt become wet with Miguel’s tears.

“You’re okay, right?” His voice cracks as he speaks through his sobs, “Please tell me you’re okay.”

“I promise you, I am okay.” You whisper.

“I’ll make it up to you, I swear.”

“You can start by getting some rest. But you’ve got a lot of apologies O’Hara.”

You don’t know how long you and Miguel stayed like this, nor did you care. All you cared about was Miguel and he felt complete at last.

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform with permission.

[deadhands69]

A Nice Fantasy with Nice Shoulders

MDNI

Katsuki Bakugo helps you after you're hit with a sex quirk, based on the same idea as the Shigaraki one here

Katsuki Bakugo x gn/afab reader

All characters in 3rd year, over 18 and you should be too if you're reading this

Warnings/Content/etc: soft but slightly possessive Bakugo, unestablished relationship, swearing, very light violence, oral (m/f receiving), slightly public/people listening, sex (various positions), walk of shame.

*the start’s a little angsty but idk how to write anything that doesn’t turn into mushy fluffy smut 

**a lot of feelings of not consenting to being hit by the quirk, but the actual physical interactions are very much consensual/have been wanted for a while

***this one’s long, it got a bit out of hand [4.9k words]

“They thought it would be funny” you hear someone say. A black cloud of dust had just dissipated, leaving a shocked Monoma and Mineta in the middle. “I don’t think they actually realized how dangerous what they did is” added another voice. 

You had all heard of the sex quirk villain terrorizing the city. Every news station had been talking about it all week. 

While on patrol for his internship this morning, Monoma picked the villain’s quirk up attempting to apprehend him to no avail. After some brief convincing from Mineta, they assumed it would be a fun prank to make all of the fem-bodied 3rd years a little horny. What they didn’t realize is this quirk doesn’t just make people a little turned on, it drives them to insanity if not dealt with. 

“A new article was posted on this today, the effects are worse than previously assumed.” you hear Iida’s nearly robotic voice over the crowd “It can cause permanent damage to quirks and mental stability if intercourse isn’t acted upon promptly!”

Oh, I could fucking kill them you think before launching yourself across the room. Monoma dodges and yells that he’s so sorry and will make it right before running out the door to get help. Mineta on the other hand, is still in shock.

You make quick work of him, leaving him tied to a chair in the common area covered in bruises. The teachers will arrive soon with Monoma and they can deal with it. Turning away and walking to your dorm room, you hear him hurling some insult at you but can’t be bothered to listen.

Most of your classmates are trickling out of the area. Fortunately, the others in your class affected by the quirk all seem to be taken care of. Your best friend Shoto is even leaving with his crush. You’re happy for him but can’t say it doesn’t hurt a bit that he didn’t bother to check on you. It’s not a big deal though, Momo needs help. 

And you’ll be fine. 

You think. 

Or maybe you won’t be.

The happiness for your friends using this as a catalyst to confess to their crushes feels sharply in contrast with the overwhelming loneliness and dread you feel walking back to your room alone. Sure, you have a crush on someone too but he left earlier this morning and you didn’t expect him to be back until tomorrow night. Bakugo frequently leaves on the weekends to visit his parents.

You consider texting Denki or Kiri for his number but they just left with their crushes as well and you’d rather not interrupt them. 

Besides, even if Bakugo was here, you don’t think that would make much of a difference. To put it lightly, he doesn’t seem to be into you. When you and Shoto hang out in the common area like you always do, his red eyes glare at you from across the room. Just seeing you seems to put him in a bad mood. He doesn’t even yell at you like everyone else, seeming to ignore your mistakes as if they aren’t worth his time to correct. He did argue with you once, the first day of school but when you threw it back at him he just stared at you. After that, he always seemed indifferent. It was disappointing, his sass seems like it could be fun sometimes. 

You’d since written it off as a lost cause and tried to move on. Still, there’s something that draws you to him that you can’t quite place. Something in his eyes that hints things could be different. 

You close the door to your dorm, comforted by the familiar space. Iida’s words ring out in your head again “...permanent damage...”

That’s just one article, maybe this won’t be as bad as they say you think before a dizzy spell makes you double over.

Flopping face first into your bed, you scream into your pillow.

You didn’t fucking ask for this.

Katsuki Bakugo just got back from the gym, walking into an uncharacteristically deserted common room. It is Saturday, right? His eyes light up when he sees Mineta still bound to the chair you left him in.

Someone finally snapped, good for them. He’s a little sad to have missed it. 

“What happened?”

Mineta stammers at the looming figure above him before blurting out random bits of the story. “t-the villain. Sex quirk. And Monoma- we thought it was harmless but then-”

Of course he’d heard all about this quirk, who hadn’t. Clearly Mineta.

“Are you that fucking stupid?”

“N-no we just thought-” 

Bakugo was losing interest, having put the dots together by now. At this point, Mineta was rambling how it would be okay, listing the names of their classmates who had left together.

“Jiro and Kaminari, Ochaco and Midor-”

“Raccoon eyes and Red, [y/n] and Icy Hot, yeah yeah”

“What? No. Todoroki didn’t leave with [y/n], he left with Momo.”

“Huh?” Curiosity replacing the disappointment in his voice. “Who’s with [y/n] then?”

“No one, they left alone. Serves them right. That delinquent’s the one who did this to me!”

“Glad someone finally did,” Bakugo mutters under his breath, smacking Mineta with a small blast while walking past him to the stairs.

“Oh come on, you can’t just leave me here - wait!”

Back in your room: you’re losing it. Every article says the same thing: you’re fucked.

You’d read as many as you could before the overwhelming desire became too much to handle and you couldn’t keep track of the sentences anymore. You tried to fix it yourself too, but no matter how hard you tried your touch only seemed to amplify the problem. Leaving you feeling overheated, your panties desperately drenched. It’s only been fifteen minutes, this will get even worse.  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

It’s probably one of your friends, you think, wondering who would bang so loudly on your door (also who finished that quickly????) In the heat of the quirk, you’d taken off your hoodie - leaving you in a nearly see through white tank top and the tiny athletic shorts you’d been wearing all day. Your friend’s wouldn’t care though.

KNOCK KNOCK.

You make your way to the door, thighs clenching around your aching groin as you walk. Swinging it open, you find yourself face to face with a black skull hoodie. Your heart nearly jumps out of your chest before remembering, he doesn’t like you. And he’s not even supposed to be here this weekend. Why’s he here?

“Bakugo, why are you here?” you grumble, sounding much more gruff than intended.

“Uh, nice to see you too?” his fingers tap impatiently on the door frame next to your shoulder.

“Any other day, I’d love to word spar with you but today I just can’t.” you turn to close the door.

“Why? Are you mad your crush left with someone else?” 

“What?” you rub your eyes in confusion before getting distracted. Bakugo is hot in workout clothes on a normal day. This quirk was rendering it nearly impossible to concentrate on his words. Not with the way every muscle in his thighs appears to be sculpted into his pants, leading up to his-

“Icy Hot.” he repeats himself, “He left with pony tail. ‘s why you’re pissed, right?”

Oh, that. You’d forgotten about that.

“What? No. Shoto and I are just friends. Besides, he’s had a crush on her forever and she needed his help.” you say blankly.

“You needed help too though,” that one stung. He continues, “sounds like a shitty friend if you ask me.”

“Look. If you’re just here to criticize my friendships, I can’t deal with it right now. Are you done?“ your voice breaks. You step back slightly, hoping to hide in the dimness of your room. He’s not wrong, but you really don’t want him to see you cry. 

“I-” he notices the tear in the corner of your eye and knows that one hit too close. He’s off to a bad start. If he keeps talking like that, you’ll definitely slam the door in his face. 

Much more quietly he tries again. “Look. I didn’t mean to- fuck, I’m so bad this.” Biting his lip, he wipes his hands on his pants before shoving them in the front of his hoodie. His cheeks flush, making the scar under his eye look pale in comparison. Is he nervous? That can’t be it.

Regaining his composure, he looks back at you. “I came to see if you’re okay, if you n-need anything.” 

It’s the most quiet you’d ever seen him. He can’t look you in the eyes. Glancing down, he notices how see-through your shirt is before quickly looking away. He focuses hard on the walls of your room, hands still deep in his pocket.

Of course you’d always wanted Katsuki Bakugo in your dorm room, but assumed it would be different. You imagined that one day he’d start fighting with you like everyone else and fighting would turn into play fighting which would turn into him being nice every once in a while. You always assumed, under his prickly exterior, he’d be soft and sweet inside. You’d never seen it though. Not even when the prettiest girls in your school threw themselves at him, only to be on the receiving end of an explosion. Still, you hoped maybe one day you’d be the one who could break through that, finding something loving underneath. Your crush was all built on a fantasy, but it was a nice fantasy. A nice fantasy, with nice shoulders. 

Back to reality.

He at least thought to be here now, which is better than the apathy you were used to. It’s a start.

“Come in,” you whisper “I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Closing the door behind him, you turn to walk back to your bed when the world shifts. The dizziness had been coming in waves, this is just another one. You could expect it now. Tensing to hit the ground, you’re engulfed by his athletic arms instead.

“Holy shit [y/n], you okay?” he holds you in his arms, looking down at your face.

“Oh, yeah. This has just been happening,” you trail off, hardly aware of what you’re saying. You’re trying to find up from down, only to find every direction your body leads you to is him.

“This has been happening the whole time??” his clenched jaw could easily be mistaken for anger but the waver in his voice gives away his concern. He doesn’t seem to mind you grasping his sweatshirt to right yourself. His body feels warm against you, much warmer than you - making you wonder how he’s managing to be so overdressed right now. Pulling closer, he feels firm under his soft worn hoodie. He smells like laundry detergent and deodorant, with a subtle sweetness. The throbbing in your tight shorts worsens, the quirk-induced ache leaves you feeling empty. You need more of this. More of him.

The dizziness passes and you’re back on your feet. He lets go of you but keeps his arms near as you steady yourself against the wall. 

Deep breath. If your friends managed to confess to their crushes today, you can too. Your situation might be a bit different, but he’s not stupid. He knew very well what he was walking into when he showed up. He has to expect this.

Here it goes. 

“Bakugo?”

“Yeah? D’ya need somethin?”

“I need your help.”

“Whaddya need?”

“You.”

He nods, understanding. “Yeah. I can do that.”

“Really?” That’s all it took? Holy shit.

“Pshh. What kind of a damned hero would I be if I can’t even fuck a sex quirk out of ya?” the mock confidence would normally make you cringe but he stepped closer and your face is now inches from his. His hands move to the wall behind you, caging you between his arms. Looking down at you, he pauses.

He wants to throw you on the bed. To shove you face first into the mattress and make you scream his name all day for every other girl in the dorms to hear while they’re being awkwardly fumbled by amateurs. He wants to fuck you as hard as he can, so good it’ll ruin anyone else for you. He wants to make everyone jealous of you. 

But when he’s right here with you. 

When he leans in closer. 

His lips barely brush against yours. 

Bringing his arms down from the wall, he cups your cheeks. Holding you softly, pulling you in closer but just as sweet. It isn’t the rough boldness you would expect from him, but it was explosive in its own way. Every subtle move of his lips drags up wishful feelings you’d been burying deep inside you for the past three years.

He pulls back for air, his heavy eyelids opening to see you confused at him.

“Oh.” you breathe.

“Did I do somethin wrong?”

“No, I just didn't expect that.”

He rolls his eyes. 

“You’re just being… nicer than I expected,” you clarify. Understatement of the fucking year.

“’m never mean to you” he mumbles. Even in the low lighting you can see how hard he’s blushing. To hide his embarrassment, he closes the gap between your lips again - this time with more confidence. Mouthes pressing together, his tongue dancing with yours.

Taking this as an invitation to move forward, your hands embrace his body. Exploring every inch you’d only dreamed of. The soft skin of his neck you’d grown accustomed to staring at sitting behind him in class. The ridges of his back you watch flex under his suit when he’s training. You take off his sweatshirt to run your hands over his arms, his black tank top giving you a better view of the muscles and scars that cover them. Fingers lingering on every curve. You pull your hands from the top of his chest down to his thighs. Your touch veers up his inner leg when his hand grabs your wrist, stopping you.

Grimacing at himself for the pause, he bites his lip to collect his words.

He definitely can’t say he hasn’t thought about doing this with you. He has. Constantly. To a point, he maybe wondered if it was unhealthy. It’s actually the reason he went to the gym this morning, he needed to think of anything else but your ass in the tiny little shorts you were wearing while casually making a cup of coffee. The ones you’re wearing now, pressed up against him.

But having you now? Like this?

“Wait.” His voice is gritty but softer than you’d expect.“What?” 

“Things ain’t gonna be weird with us, right?”

“No weirder than ever. Why?” 

He looks away momentarily. Not wanting to say it if you hadn’t been thinking the same thing. For his own sake though, he can’t bring himself to leave this unaddressed.

“Cuz I skipped a few steps, I was supposta take you out and stuff first.”

“Well, I’ll let you know to ask me out in advance next time I plan to get hit with a sex quirk.”

“‘m serious. ‘m not fucking this up.” 

“You can take me out later.” you smile, his eyes soften looking into yours. Something in his stare makes you melt like ice cream on a summer day. Is this the sweetness you’d always dreamed of?

Feeling too hot, you take off your tank top, throwing it on the ground nearby. His eyes drop and the corner of his mouth creeps into a smile. His hands move to your waist before gliding up to trace the shape of you. He follows your lead - pulling his shirt off and exposing the scars scattered over his toned body.

Granting your own wish, your hands trail down the V along his hips and into his pants. Closer, you need to be closer.

Without thinking you drop to your knees. The pants don’t leave much to the imagination, his outline appearing rock hard already (and he didn’t even get hit with that quirk). Peeling back the fabric, his cock bounces out heavily. It’s massive in a way that would usually scare you but with the audaciousness of a sex quirk taking over your inhibitions, you only want it more. Grasping the soft skin with both hands, you bring the dripping pink tip to your mouth. You have to. It’s so beautiful and you need it. He gasps as your tongue lolls out and you bob your head forward.   

One of his hands finds your neck, thumb gently caressing the back of your head; the other planted on his own face leaning over you with his elbow into the wall to steady himself. You watch his abs flex with every heavy breath before your eyes find his.  

“Fuck, you’re so fucking good” he groans. You moan at the sound of his voice, sending vibrations through him.

He doesn’t last long. To be honest, he’s a little embarrassed by this but he really had been thinking about you in these shorts all day and didn’t expect this to happen. Less than a minute later, his hips are sputtering while he whimpers “wait, [y/n] gonna cum.”

Perfect.

Even in your throat, you can’t take him all the way in at this angle. Increasing the speed of your hands, you pull your mouth back enough to look up at his face again while still working his sensitive tip. His brows furrow and he bites his lip, exhaling hard while gripping your hair tighter. 

“Fuck… cumming” he whines through clenched teeth. His dick gushing in your mouth.

You stare up into his crimson eyes, licking him while letting his load drip through your lips down your chest. The astounded look on his face says he’s into it. 

Milking out the last drop, you let him gaze at you while catching his breath. You grab your tank top to wipe your chest and face off but he’s already pulling you up before you can finish. Pressing you back into the wall. His lips find yours as he cups his hand around your cheek.

“So fucking pretty,” he mumbles between kisses, “now it’s my turn.”

Suddenly, his strong hands grip the backs of your thighs. Not removing his lips from yours, he carries you across the room to your bed. Laying you across his lap, he takes the shirt still in your hands and finishes cleaning his cum off of you. Still worked up, every touch he gives is met with your moans. Noticing this, he works his hands around your body. Lightly grazing and squeezing where he pleases. Taking off the shorts he’d been daydreaming about removing all day. You’re soaked through your panties, pressing hard into him as his fingers gently pass over you.

“Wanna sit on my face?” he asks, knowing you’re dying to grind into him any way you can.

Absolutely, you do.

A little too eagerly, you shove him back onto your bed - he doesn’t mind. First, you peel the wet fabric from between your legs. Climbing over him, you position yourself above his face. Your ankles slide under his shoulders, fingers tangling with his above his head to steady yourself. You slam into him, dropping harder than intended (okay, you really want this.) A bit rough, but you know Dynamite can take it. Slightly overwhelmed at your enthusiasm, he groans into you before his wet tongue laps at your folds. Sucking and biting at your clit as you ride his face. His hand follows over yours as you move to grip his blonde hair. 

You’re almost there.

KNOCK KNOCK.

“Hey, [y/n] are you okay in there?” Mina’s distinct voice sounds through your door, “we’re worried about you.”

“Yeah, I’m.. uhm. I’m good.” you yell back, trying (and slightly failing)  to control your breath.

Glancing down, Bakugo’s eyes light up. Without warning, he shoves his tongue into you. Your world spins.

“Fuckkk” you moan under your breath, gripping his hair harder. He’s enjoying this.

Of course the other hero students would immediately jump back into helping people, but now? There’s no way you’re answering the door right now.

Shoto inquires next,  “are you sure, we read more and-”

“Yeah, I’m- I’m fine!” you manage to get out before throwing your face down and exhaling hard into a pillow. You feel your pussy throb as you cream on his tongue. He’s still not slowing down, determined to make you break. His hands now squeezing hard around your thighs, pressing you into him.

“I think someone’s in there,” Mina giggles. 

“We should probably give them space, it’s the manly thing to do right?” Kirishima adds.

“Wait, I wanna know who it is!” Sero’s voice chimes in. 

How many people are out there??

“In that case,” Momo adds, “[y/n], I made these for you. I’ll leave them out here, okay? Hope you’re being safe!” Something slides under your door but you can’t make out what it is.

You continue to hold your breath, clenching around his relentless tongue.

Finally, their voices trail off down the hallway. Bakugo (you should probably call him Katsuki after that) lessens his grip allowing you to roll onto your bed. Pulling your face away from the drool and bite mark covered pillow, you start to catch your breath. He presses himself up, rubbing his messier than usual hair and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. After a quick kiss on your forehead, his heavy footsteps make their way to your door and back before throwing a few condoms on your bedside table.

Useful. Thanks Creati.

“Ready now?” he grins at you.

He decides it’s his turn to be on top. With your legs wrapped around his hips, he slowly presses forward. His tip slides into your wetness and you feel yourself stretch around him. Bringing his lips to yours, he kisses you like earlier - soft, passionate. He’s being so sweet you wonder how this is the same person who was just tongue fucking you, trying to get you to scream while all of your friends listened. The same person who grumbled and rushed past you this morning without a hello.

Considering his glacial pace, you weren’t really sure when it happened: he bottoms out in you before pausing. You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, scratching them through his soft hair. Thoughts of who he was earlier blur away, taking in the feeling of him in you now. He slowly resumes movement. 

His tongue inside you felt amazing earlier, but his dick is even better. Hitting every sensitive spot you didn’t even know you had. He sucks your bottom lip into his, gently nipping as he picks up the pace. You’re panting hard, kisses becoming sloppier. He thrusts into you, harder and deeper.

“Fuck Katsuki,” you moan, “gonna cum.” 

“Do it. Cum on my dick,” he growls back, slamming harder into you.

Your throbbing cunt pulses around him while you scream in his ear (you'd feel bad but it's not like he can hear that well anyways.) Hands dragging down his back, pulling him in closer to you.

A jolt of pain amplifies your pleasure as his teeth connect with your throat. Biting down while he whimpers into your neck. You feel him pump into you, exploding white into you while you ride out the waves of your own orgasm.

As you both come down, you run your hands over his scared face. Wanting to cling to any moment of softness you can get from him. He closes his eyes, melting into your touch. 

“Thanks for your help,” you whisper in his ear.

“Help? Oh. Yeah,” his gravelly voice is soft against your cheek, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time, you don’t have to thank me.” He pulls out, leaving you feeling empty again.

“How’re you feeling?” he asks, tying a knot in the condom before tossing it.

You stand up. No dizziness yet. You test your quirk. Almost back to normal.

He picks up another condom from the table, giving himself a few strokes before putting it on.

“Again?” you ask.

“You’re not through the quirk yet, are you?” His red eyes pierce through you and you know there’s no use trying to hide anything from him.

“Almost.”

“I can do better than almost,” he smiles and find yourself pressed into the wall again. His calloused hands running over you in contrast to his smooth lips leaving a trail of small pecks over your neck. 

In one fluid motion, he grips the back of your legs, pulling you up while sliding you back onto his dick - this time faster with more ease. You gasp, clutching his shoulders while he roughly thrusts into you. 

“ya feel so good on my cock, you’re doing so fucking good,” he chokes out between heavy breaths, "you look so fucking pretty taking me like that."

The pressure in your gut rises every time he pounds into you before spilling out, sending pulses of satisfaction through your whole body. You shove your head into his shoulder, crying his name while he fucks you harder. Toes curling as your heels dig into his back.

Before you can catch your breath, he throws you back on your bed.

Strong hands pull you onto your knees, your back arched, and face finding your pillow again. Grabbing your ass to bring you closer, he penetrates you again. His fast pace resuming, making you whimper into your pillow.

His hands find yours, bringing his elbows to either side of your shoulders. Groaning in your ear “ya sound so fucking pretty, louder for me,” as he plows into you. You scream, feeling yourself pulse around him as your pleasure cascades through you.

“Ka-katsuki” you whine, the sound of his name in your voice sending him over the edge.

With another hard thrust, he stutters his hips into you, exhaling hard. For the third time today, you feel him flex in you, filling the condom. You stop biting your pillowcase to look at him. His bright eyes staring back at you through heavy lids.

He thinks you look so fucked out and pretty on your tear-stained pillow.

“You did so good,” he breathes, “you feel better now?”

“Definitely”

Definitely better but 

So.

Fucking.

Exhausted. 

You know you should clean up more, go to the bathroom down the hallway but you’re so tired you can’t manage to do more than melt into your sheets. The last thing you remember before drifting off to sleep is Katsuki helping you get dressed for bed and wrapping himself around you.

A sliver of light slices through your room. Your hands move across the bed but it’s empty.  Yesterday feels like a hazy dream. The ache between your legs reminds you it was definitely real. Your neck and hips are sore too, must have fallen asleep at a weird angle. Blinking your eyes open wearily, there’s a note on the pillow next to you. 

Had to leave early this morning for extra training but let me buy you coffee. Text me when you wake-up and we can meet at that place on the edge of campus.

Katsuki xxx-xxx-xxxx

You check your phone. 

[you have 57 new messages and 14 missed calls] 

The latest few, from Mina, asking who’s in your room. Quickly, you swipe them away. That’s a long story and you’re not sure how you’ll tell it. You can deal with it later. You text Katsuki. 

You [heading out now, meet at the coffee shop?] Katsuki [see you soon]

Getting ready in a rush, you quickly throw some pants on before brushing your teeth, pulling your hair out of your face, and heading down the stairs.

Walk normal you remind yourself on the way into the common room, trying to look like Katsuki hadn’t spent half of yesterday pounding his massive dick into you. The rest of the class doesn’t know that yet and considering that it’s new, you aren’t really sure if he wants them to know. That probably wouldn’t be the best way for them to find out, anyways. 

Ochoco’s voice beams behind you “Hey [y/n], you’re alive! We were so worried about you!” 

“Hey Ochoco! Yeah, I’m okay!” you yell back.

Hearing you’re awake, Mina runs from the couch to hug you. “Hey!!!” Her eyes widen. “You had a good night!” she says before giggling “I’ll text you!”

Mineta scoffs at the sight of you before getting far out of your way. Good.

Tsuyu, Iida, and Jiro all stare from the couch, they wave back politely but avoid eye contact. 

Denki high-fives you. 

Sero also high-fives you before running to the couch and handing Jiro money. Is this about beating up Mineta? They can’t possibly know about anything else.

Deku looks mortified. “Uhm.” He grabs at the collar of his shirt.

Is there something on your sweatshirt? Using the window by the exit as a mirror, you check.

Oh, shit. There’s more than something on your sweatshirt. 

Tiredly, you assumed the hoodie you woke up in was yours; this one has a big white skull on the front. Peaking out above that, a massive bite mark covers half your neck. You pull the hood up but it still doesn’t cover it.

You [just looked in the mirror] You [why didn’t you warn me???] Katsuki [now everyone knows ur mine 🧡] [you have 8 new messages]

There's a part 2 now!!

more Bakugo here: m.list

[fastandcarlos]

Restless Baby : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: 1.1k words of dad and husband max trying to fix the angsty mess that he's made

A hum of confusion came from Max as he tapped the space beside him, expecting to feel your figure. Instead he was slapped by the harsh cold of your empty space, the chill in the air leaving Max shivering. He knew bed was where you needed to be, especially with your pregnancy so close to the end.

He slowly sat himself up, brushing his hands over the front of his face. Max steadily stood up, noticing a faint glow of light coming from the doorway. He knew it was you, but he was confused as to what you were still doing up. 2:07 the clock informed him, definitely time for you to be resting. Max crept through the house, moving down the stairs to try and find where you were.

Fast asleep.

Max was almost relieved to see you resting until he noticed how uncomfortable you looked. The guilt struck him as soon as he took you in, knowing that your decision to sleep on the cold, battered sofa was all down to him.

Unlucky for Max, you weren’t quite as asleep as he thought you were. You could hear him moving through the room, desperately trying to keep your eyes screwed shut in an attempt to convince Max that you really were asleep and for him to leave you alone. He knew you better though, and knew exactly the way to try and catch you out too.

His head shook as he took a few quiet steps towards you, poking his finger against your arm that hung out from the blanket you had draped over you. Your body jumped at his sudden touch, confident you could hear Max giggling proudly to himself as he sat down beside your figure, giving you a moment to rub the sleep out of your eyes and tilt your head to look across at him.

“This is ridiculous,” Max told you, resting his arm just above your head.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you huffed, pulling the blanket further around your body, making sure that your bump was well protected and warm.

“Just come and join me in bed.”

Your head shook defiantly back at Max. “Why would I share a bed with the man who says I’m distracting his career because he can’t get a good night’s sleep with all my fidgeting. I’m giving you what you wanted right now, what’s the problem?” You snapped. Max flinched at your harsh tone, he knew what he’d said was probably the worst thing that he could say, and he knew he had a whole world of making up to do too.

“According to my data I got three hours of sleep last night, my coaches are really concerned as to what’s going on!”

“You try being seven months pregnant and see how it easy it is to rest at night, I’m sorry life is so difficult for you Max.”

“At least you can rest most of the day!”

“Wow Max!”

“My lack of sleep is starting to effect my performance and I can’t let that happen, my career is important and you wriggling around most of the night is really starting to impact that!” Max yelled back, stopping as soon as he realised what he had said. Your eyes fell to the floor as you took a moment to process what he had said, sticking the blame on you as if you wanted to sleep restlessly and enjoyed not being able to let your husband rest at night. “Babe, I-“

“Don’t even try and apologise, I can’t believe you’re making me feel guilty for growing our child, I’m sorry it’s all just such an inconvenience.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, you know I don’t feel that way,” Max tried to argue, but your mind was already made up, his true feelings really were now known.

“You go to bed Max, I’ll give you the space that your precious career needs,” you told him, pushing him in the direction of your bedroom. He let his feet go, knowing arguing with you was pointless, hoping you’d follow behind him.

“I don’t know what I was thinking when I said what I said earlier love.”

Max’s hand slowly reached out and hovered over the top of your bump, smiling to himself as he admired just how big your baby was getting.

“My career is important, but you and the baby mean so much more to me. I was insensitive and rude, my priorities weren’t straight. I know it’s hard for you, and I really do completely understand how difficult being pregnant is,” Max whispered.

Your hand slowly moved across your bump, resting your fingers just over the top of Max’s.

“No one wants for me to sleep peacefully more than me,” you informed him.

“I know,” he smiled, shuffling closer towards you. “I’m so proud of you, you’re coping so well, and I’m sorry if I ever made you feel anything different.”

“You’re an idiot sometimes, you know?”

“I do,” Max chuckled as he saw the first hint of a smile on your face. “I’m stupid, selfish and a massive ass sometimes, but that doesn’t stop me being so in love with you and our baby. You have no idea how excited I am for our future together babe.”

You hummed in agreement with Max, “I do, I’ve heard all those interviews you did in Miami last weekend.”

“Seeing as you’re talking to me again, is there a chance you might come and join me in bed again too? It’s horrible being in there without you,” Max smirked, extending his hand out for you to take.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” you teased, taking Max’s hand and allowing his other arm to wrap around you and help you off of the sofa.

“Can I get that in writing too?” Max grinned as you started walking.

Your head shook as he supported you all the way back to the bedroom, easing you down and placing the duvet gently over your body.

“Max, reckon you could sleep if I laid in your side?” You whispered, surprised by just how cold your spot was after you left it abandoned for so long.

“Of course,” he replied without even having to think, lifting his arm up and inviting you into the warmth beside him.

“Is this alright for you?”

“I promise, it’s more than alright for me.”

Whether he slept well for the rest of the night or not, it didn’t matter to Max, just as long as he had you back by his side.

And if his data was rubbish, well, his coaches would just have to deal with it.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[motorsportbarbie13]

Hiiiii couldn’t help but see you do requests, could you do something where after a hard race reader placed on the podium but felt sick and Max catches her when she collapsed after getting out of the car? Maybe with the words "I can't... my legs... everything's tingling..." and him being super worried. Basically a little angsty with a fluffy end where he’s checking on her, can be established relationship or not.

OH ANON. this was so fun.

Enjoy!

Heatstroke In which, as it turns out, Max wasn't just 'Maxplaining' the difficulty of Singapore to you after all

Pairing: Max Verstappen X FerarriDriver!Reader Warnings: fainting, getting sick/weak, max being a knight in shining armor. Word count: 2.2k Masterlist

Max tried to warn you. Lando tried to warn you. Checo and Lewis had tried to warn you. Hell, the entire fucking grid had tried to warn you that Singapore was a different beast. You had thought they were just coddling you and being over dramatic, as the boys tended to be with you. It was a hazard of being the only woman on the grid, which frankly, drove you bat shit crazy because you had earned your way into the red Ferrari seat next to Charles on your own, thank you very much. You didn’t need to be coddled and you didn’t need to be warned off anything. 

But they were right. 

Singapore was a different beast. 

The heat during the day was oppressive but at night? There wasn’t any relief once the intense sun went down either. You were from Michigan though, that midwestern state being famous for its hot and sticky summers so you had thought you’d been prepared.

As you claimed into your sleek red car, lining up P3 behind Max and Lando though you knew you were in trouble before the green flag waved. The thing about sweating in the humidity like this is that there’s no where for the moisture on your skin to go, the air already too heavy so that slick sweat sticks to you, making you even hotter than before. 

“Fuck, this is going to be brutal.” You mumble, hoping that the braid you tied your hair in would stay for the entirety of the race. Suddenly, shaving your hair into a pixie cut like Fred had been suggesting (mostly jokingly) for weeks seemed like a good idea.  

The formation lap is fine. 

The first ten laps are fine, if not a little squirrely thanks to your car being wildly loose. 

The first fifteen laps are fine, if not a bit hot. 

But on lap 23? All hell breaks loose. 

First, your hydration system fails and you’re completely unable to get any water through the tiny straw that you usually flip into your mouth on the straightaway, just like Danny taught you. You’re sweating up a storm with no way to replenish those valuable electrolytes. 

Then, you’re so busy focusing on the fact that you’d give your first born child for a sip of water you nearly slam into the same exact wall that took George out on the last lap of last year’s race. You yank the steering wheel around so hard, you feel something in your wrist pop. The searing pain causes you to over correct and you nearly drive right into your own fucking teammate. 

“Fuck. Tell Charlie I’m sorry.” You groan over the radio, telling your engineer to pass on the message to Charles. 

“Focus on your race.” Your engineer tells you, voice obviously strained just as yours is. “Charles is fine.” 

Well, I sure as fuck am not fine. You think as you fight the car down towards the starting line. 

On lap 45, you’re granted a reprieve when a Sauber goes into the wall, bringing out a yellow flag. The leaders all duck into the pits, including yourself. There’s nothing anyone can do about your water situation and at this point, your instincts have kicked it. 

Max was right and you knew it. Singapore was hell. He had tried to tell you last night, as you had been snuggled up in bed with him, a ritual that you both had become dependent on this season. It seemed cliche, you falling for one of your rivals. You hated it but there was no denying that there was a magnetic chemistry between the two of you that had started the moment you had met last year while you were still driving in F2. 

You had resisted his charm for a while but things had taken a turn the night it was announced you’d be driving for Ferrari alongside Charles. Several of the drivers that lived in Monaco full time insisted on taking you to Jimmy Z’s to celebrate and who were you to say no to a bunch of handsome men paying for your drinks? 

The night ended just as you might expect it: Max drunkenly confessing his year-long crush on you and you drunkenly kissing him in a dark alleyway as you waited for your Uber. What had started off as a drunken confession and your reckless response that wasn’t supposed to mean anything had turned into one of the greatest things that has ever happened to you. Max and you? The pair of you were endgame. 

But none of that mattered now. Not here, in the raging heat and humidity of Singapore. You knew that Max was going to give you shit for not being better prepared the moment you got out of the car. You knew you were in for an ‘I told you so’ lecture on the plane ride back in the morning. You knew Max was right and you had been stupid to underestimate the power this track had over drivers. 

Looking back on your first race in Singapore years later, you don’t quite know how you managed to finish those last laps. Pure determination and stubbornness, Max would insist later on that night. But before you’re able to fully wrap your head around how dangerous of a situation you’d gotten yourself into, the checkered flag is waving and you’ve crossed the finish line in P3, right behind Lando and Max. 

Your third podium of the year. If you had been more coherent, you probably would have been elated. But all you could think about as you pulled your car into parc ferme, right behind that little cardboard 3 sign, was the ice bath you knew was waiting for you somewhere in the paddock. 

Your red racing suit is soaked through and through, you can feel it before you even get out of the car. It takes a mammoth effort to pull the steering wheel out of it’s dock and for a moment, you worry you’re so weak you can’t even do that. In front of you, you see Lando pop out of the car in the P1 spot, elated to have won with a healthy margin of over 20 seconds for the second time that season. 

Max is out of the car too, albeit a bit slower than Lando. There’s a distant buzzing in your ear that sounds eerily like your engineer’s voice asking if you’re okay. But you’re completely unable to focus on anything beyond the tingling sensation in your legs. This wasn’t something you’d ever felt inside a race car in all your years of driving. Everything stung, like a million little fire ants were making a meal out of your flesh. It took every ounce of strength, of which you didn’t have much, to hoist yourself up out of the car. 

Your head swims the moment you stand up straight, and you feel your legs collapse under you. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear Max calling your name but you can’t look up, your helmet suddenly feeling like it weighs 300 pounds. 

Crouching in your car, you desperately try to pull yourself together before anyone notices you’re struggling. You didn’t want to give the media the satisfaction of pulling another ‘look, another woman who thinks she can hang with the rest of the F1 drivers.’ Like they’ve been attempting to do all season. 

Your eyes are closed but you still hear the faint call of Max’s voice somewhere off in the distance. The entire world is reduced down to a singular pin prick of light while you fight to stay conscious, the heat and humidity wrapping their ugly little fingers tightly around your throat. 

Just as you’re about to surrender to the warm quiet of the darkness that seems to be calling out to you, a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist, hauling you out of the car like you weigh less than a bag of potatoes. You go limp in the arms of whoever has come to your rescue, collapsing under the strain of what you just put your body though. 

“Baby, please. Look at me.” 

Somehow, your helmet has been removed and you find yourself blinking up at Max. 

When did he get here? You wonder idly, not realizing it was him that pulled you out of the car. 

Max had gone practically feral when GP told him that you’d gone nearly 3/4 of the race without water. He knew how brutal this race was, and the humidity was unusually high tonight. He had gotten out of the car fairly quickly but had panicked when he saw your helmet tipped forward, resting on the halo device and you not moving. 

You lift your head, still wondering where your helmet was and instantly found yourself staring straight into the baby blue eyes of your boyfriend. “Maxie?” You croak, throat feeling like you just dined on a three course meal of sand and gravel. 

“Hey…” He coos, bringing you closer to his chest. “There’s my girl. You’re okay. I’ve got you.” He rubs soothing circles over your back, not caring that the press is having a field day with this. 

“I can’t…” You stutter, struggling to make the words in your head sound coherent when your mouth tries to form them. “My legs…everything is tingling.” 

If you had been a bit more coherent, you would’ve seen the look of absolute panic cross Max’s face. He frantically looks around as he lifts you into his arms, one arm under your knees, the other cradling your back against his chest. He knew you were going to absolutely murder him when you come around and see the pictures. You hated being coddled and hated showing affection on the grid even more. You and Max weren’t really hiding the fact that you were together, most fans knew and it was common knowledge around the paddock but the causal fan might be surprised to find out the lore between the two of you. So this outright show of concern, affection, and panic over the state of you that Max was showing right now? It was absolutely not a common occurrence 

“Interviews are going to have to wait.” Max barks at Jensen, this weeks post-race presenter. “She needs medical attention.” 

Jensen simply nods, allowing you to pass. 

Fred and Charles intercept you half way to the tent, insisting that getting you in the ice baths will be the thing to help you the most. Max, nearly delirious with worry because while your eyes were open and you were somewhat alert, follows their instructions and takes you back behind the garage area where the ice baths had been set up. 

It’s all you can do to stand upright as Max unzips your race suit. It’s so heavy with your sweat that it practically peels off of you with no effort, gravity doing the work for Max. And then your left in just your fireproofs. If you hadn’t been in the middle of the paddock with thousands of people and cameras around, Max would have stripped you down to just your underwear, but that wasn’t an option. 

WIth Max and Charles’ help, you’re able to hoist yourself into the waiting ice bath. The shock of the frigid water jolts some awareness back into you the moment your body is submerged in the glacial water. 

“Holy fuck.” You grit out, eyes closing in pain. 

“I know…I know, schatje. But it’ll get you feeling better so much quicker than anything else. 

You nod, still not fully aware of how you got here but thankful for Max’s steadying presence beside you. He’s crouched down so he’s eye level with you as you ball yourself up to get as much heated skin under the cold water and the worry etched all over his face is enough to steal your breath. 

“Max. Holy fuck. That was…you weren’t just Maxsplaining to me last night, were you?” 

A chuckle finds its way out of his lips, despite the state of panic Max is in. “No, I was not just ‘Maxsplaining’ anything last night, silly girl.” 

“Shut up.” 

“You’ve got your fire back, I see. I think you’ll live.” Max leans in to press a kiss to the crown of your head before dropping another kiss on your temple, then your cheek, and finally his lips find their home on yours. Right where they belong. It’s not a lingering kiss, or a passionate one. No. This kiss is filled with gratitude and relief and sheer dumb realization of how much this man loves you. 

Your eyes are open more now, a few minutes in the ice bath doing your heat stroke symptoms good. It takes you a few moments to really grasp the severity of what just happened. How close you came to passing out mid-race. How it was Max that got you out of that car and was at your side before anyone else. 

All around you, the paddock is bustling to life. The scene Max created by hauling you over to Ferrari’s garages has somewhat dissipated. Only a few onlookers are stopped still, but your team remains solidly around you, faces a mask of concern. But the only person you see is Max. 

“Thank you, baby.” You murmur when he leans in for another kiss. 

“Anything for you, schatje.” He rasps, emotion clawing at his throat. “Anything.” 

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

[chuluoyi]

✎ sweet felicity

- gojo satoru x reader

what do you get the man who already has everything for his birthday?

genre: teeth-rotting fluff and comfort because no—i can't make his birthday angsty ok

note: so this is my entry for the birthday boy <3 this takes place immediately after daddy-to-be, where the first years are still yuta, maki, panda and toge

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

Honestly? Satoru wondered about it a lot these days.

He already has everything he wanted—unparalleled cursed technique, a fairly happy life, a pretty wife, and just recently, a kid on the way.

But his birthday was in a week and it was as clear as a day that you were planning something for him.

“Come on, you can't fool me, sweets.”

He noticed that you had started waking up earlier than usual. Initially, he thought it was due to your morning sickness, but it turned out you were sneaking away to another room for an hour or two and only came out when it was around breakfast time.

Did you really think he wouldn't catch on? Satoru found himself torn between concern and amusement. He didn't want you to strain yourself—especially after your recent fainting spells—and yet a part of him was over the moon by the fact that you did it for him.

His eyes crinkled, twinkling with affection. “You're planning something for my birthday in the mornings lately. That's sweet, but you don't have to, really.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. "Why are you so sure that it's for your birthday? I never said anything."

"Well, what else could it be? Unless you're cheating on me at six in the morning—"

"I have your spawn inside me, Gojo Satoru—"

"Don't call it ‘spawn’!" Satoru interjected with a theatrical gasp. "It's our very own little munchkin! Our love! Love!"

This was so ridiculous and you couldn't help yourself from giggling. And seeing you like that softened something inside him.

"Really, don't push yourself too hard," he said with a pout, resigned. "You need lots and lots of sleep."

"I'm not a baby, Satoru."

"Half of you is, so it makes you one!"

He was dramatic, but it was his own way to care because your husband was just wired that way.

You sighed, relenting. “Okay, okay… I know my limits. I will stop when I don't feel well, yeah? Besides, I won't have time to do it except in the mornings because I still have classes to teach.” It seemed like he wasn’t satisfied with your answer so you added, “Just so you know, it's something I enjoy too.”

"Hmph," Satoru huffed, eyeing you petulantly. "It'd better be good, or I'll spank you."

If it were physically possible for your eyes to roll a full 360 degrees into the back of your head and back, they definitely would have. "Oh, you will adore it, I promise."

Well, it wasn't a part of the plan, but now that he had asked for it, you'd definitely add a twist in his gift...

Satoru connected the dots instantly when he saw yarn and needles—what else were you doing aside from knitting?

His sweet wife, who woke up early just to make a handmade gift for his birthday—ahh, his heart could've burst. It was so cute and so you, the warmhearted being that you were.

He would go back early today, he decided, as he strolled the halls of the Jujutsu High with a cheerful tune. You were certainly waiting back at home and he would shower you with love and praise just for your efforts alone these past few days.

And so, he would have never expected that when he received a call from Nanami that afternoon, his world would utterly shatter in the most terrifying way.

“Gojo-san, please, you must come back.” Nanami was always steadfast even in the direst situations. And yet, now he was breathing hard, and panicking. “Something happened. You must go back to your residence—”

In that moment all he could think of was you and his baby. His entire world. Were you hurt?

He didn’t dwell on it—or rather, he couldn’t. His fingers went to rip his blindfold off as a sense of exponential dread creeped in and threatened to engulf him whole—a very, very strange, unfamiliar feeling to him—and he teleported back to his haven in a blink of an eye.

He had been ready to unleash hell, to see you lying on your own pool of blood, or anything. No, that was something he could never be ready for, but he would somehow make it right—

“Ooh, there he is!”

“Already?!”

“Nevermind—”

—and suddenly, he was swept into a whirlwind of confusion and commotion.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GOJO-SENSEI!”

Today is December 7.

It took a while for Satoru to discern everything, with his pulsating heartbeats and the rush of emotions that overwhelmed him. His eyes darted from each and every face who were suddenly in his house, searching for yours—

“Satoru!” you greeted him from behind Nanami, radiantly beaming, and only then could he finally breathe. You are safe—you’re well—

You had meant for it as a joke, a little payback for all the grievances he had caused you—and let’s not forget, Nanami—but you immediately regretted it when you had a look over the absolute terror in his heavenly blue eyes that you loved so much.

You had seen this once, before, when he proposed to you.

“Satoru.” You waltzed towards him, gently cradling his stunned face in your hands. “Hey,” you coaxed him with an apologetic smile, reassuring him of your presence.

Satoru looked at you squarely in the eyes, and as he fully took in the sight of you, he let out a shuddering breath and pulled you close with a firm arm around your waist and and the other around your back.

“You evil woman,” he murmured in your ears, and you could feel the slight tremble of his body and the way his heart was still thumping wildly inside his sturdy chest, which made you feel even more sorry.

“Whoa, that got you good, huh?” Panda remarked with a bemused grin.

“As expected,” Megumi snorted.

“Salmon! Salmon!”

“Ehh, that’s actually sweet…” Maki noted thoughtfully. “I would have never expected him to drop everything that fast just to go back here only after a suspicious phone call—”

“Of course he would!” Yuta rebuked with pride. “It’s his wife after all! And Nanami-san truly did a really convincing job at it!”

Nanami. Satoru casted a stern glare toward his junior, while the man in question awkwardly coughed. How did you even involve him in this?

Nah, he would deal with him later.

Despite the scare that got him good, your little plan commenced as it should. The closest of his friends and students were there to throw him this silly birthday party, as well as shower him with a plethora of gifts.

You had managed to round up his students to write birthday wishes for him in a scrap book filled with various photographs throughout the past year. This is sweet, he thought.

And one note tugged at his heartstrings the most:

Thank you, sensei, for everything — Yuta.

If anything he did ever made an impact on those young sorcerers, then Satoru was wholeheartedly glad. He wanted them to grow and made their own path in this unforgiving world, and their gratitude stirred a profound sense of relief within him.

“Here.” He was genuinely surprised when Megumi abruptly pushed a long, thin box toward him next, shyly averting his gaze. “Happy birthday.”

A fountain pen. It must have costed him some. It was strange, but Satoru felt oddly emotional.

The kid was barely six when he first approached him. He was prickly and sour and definitely wasn't welcoming. And then, he had matured right before his eyes. Satoru couldn’t help ruffling his hair vigorously and snickered, disregarding the scowl directed his way.

Nanami extended his well-wishes, and even though he still had a score to settle with him later, he was happy to have him here. Shoko couldn’t come but she left you with a recorded message.

“Happy birthday, Gojo, idiot,” Shoko was grinning in the video you played. “I'm sorry I can't be there, but my wish is for you to tone down your antics. We could all use a bit less of that.”

The two remaining reminders of the bluest spring in his life. Something pricked his heart at the stark reminder that they were not whole—and if only that someone was here, they would—but the fact that these two thought of him was enough.

And now, at last, it was time for your gift. Satoru thought he knew what it was, but as he carefully opened the ivory box, a profound sense of warmth still washed over him.

Mittens, with the color of freshly fallen snow, lay in the box—two pairs in total. One was remarkably tiny, seemingly tailored for a baby, while the other was notably larger, undoubtedly meant for him.

You. Him. The baby. By this time next year, there would be three of you. The happy picture of all of you together in near future was a gift in and of itself. You two are his everything.

Satoru went by his instincts and grasped your arm, crashing his lips against yours ardently, beaming with the broadest grin. He paid no heed to the squeals and disapproving glances from everyone around, as he felt entitled to do so—declaring his love boldly so you would know… that he was utterly, hopelessly in love with you.

That he was grateful for you in this otherwise dreary life.

And that if there were any other lives he might live after this ended... then he hoped the heavens would always bring you back to him—and for you to always choose him just like this, no matter what.

Epilogue

“So you really did call Nanami at six in the morning.”

Later that night, just before bed, your husband was still holding a grudge on you for frightening him back in the day, evident by the permanent purse of his lips.

You shrugged, buttoning the last button of your sleepwear. “I did… but it’s for greater purpose, so… yeah.”

“I can’t stand this. I’m suing you for collateral damage.”

You almost laughed. “Pffft—what? What damage—”

“My fragile heart! You can’t do that to me and expect I won’t charge you!”

“Well…” You noted with a meaningful smile. You couldn’t say you didn’t expect this, because Satoru always got pouty whenever he was irked in one way or another, and so in advance, you had actually been prepared for this.

You caught him off guard when you suddenly sat on his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers teasing his undercut. It was a nice change of pace, seeing the faint blush coloring his cheeks as he steadied you by your waist.

“…what if I say… I still have one present left for you?”

So, what did you get a man who already has everything for his birthday?

Your whole heart, of course.

And if you were in the mood for an additional surprise, a brand new pair of lacy lingerie you had under your pajamas might do the trick.