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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 4)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 3, Part 5

summary: You get your laptop fixed... eventually.

warnings: smut!! (finally lmfao) masturbation, mutual masturbation, tiny bit of voyeurism, recreational drug use, dry humping, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: caught up to where the og oneshot ends so i wanted to switch it up!!

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 6.8k (still in shock i wrote all this lmfao, i'm strictly a <4k words kinda gal)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

lips black and blue and gold.

You're frustrated. Bouncing off the walls, head spinning; and it's for a couple of reasons.

First off: you haven't managed to find a laptop. Money you've worked damn hard for, and you can't really afford a new one. With moving around, you've burnt through quite a bit of your emergency fund. Enough to convince yourself you'll be just fine with a pen and paper in class, and the Google docs on your phone when desperate. It might actually force you to go to the library instead of half assing assignments the night before, you think.

And there's your lab book, which you were smart enough to back up on your computer, but guess what? That's fucked; probably taken apart and sold for scraps by Miguel's mysterious friend , who you've conveniently never even heard of and–

"Just ask for an extension." He says, feet up on the sofa. Oddly enough, you've been doing that more often; spending time together. He's not holed up in his room as much, and spends time studying on the dining table, or pretending not to watch the soaps you've got on TV.

"You're overthinking it. Explain the situation, chula, and it'll be fine." He doesn't even look up, just throws the statement in your direction like the lazy pass of a ball.

You scoff, because he's right, and go back to overthinking. You think you can copy out the ruined half of your labbook by hand, and if you beg your OChem teacher for an extra credit project then–

"If I let you use my laptop, will you stop doing that?"

"Doing what?" You frown as he walks over, and reaches to gently pull your hands apart. He turns your palms over, pointing at the raw edges of your fingernails.

" That. " Mindlessly, you'd been picking at your fingernails, without even noticing. Looking up at him, he rolls his eyes.

"...is that a yes?" You nod, hesitant, and catch the hint of a smile as he pads off to his room.

When he returns, open laptop in hand, he thrusts it into your arms - and sits himself back onto the sofa. This time, he splays out facing you, avocado socks resting on your knee. You fight the urge to push him off, a small price to pay in return for his moment of kindness. He's been doing that more often now, slightly more touchy and maybe even… comfortable around you. Eyes flickering up towards him, you catch his. His brows knead together, and you return your attention to the screen just as quickly.

You're going through the motions, more or less, logging into your college's portal and drafting up quick emails to send to your lecturers. But it's when you open up a new tab, that you see something at the top of the screen and pause. Mouse hovering over an incognito tab, hidden in a nest of referencing websites and scientific journals; it's there. Bold letters, in all caps: WOMAN POUNDED BY BIG BEEFY–

You shouldn't. You really, really shouldn't. Once again, you look up at Miguel, and he couldn't care less; tapping away at his phone, only stopping to look at the TV. Nevertheless, you shift to hide the laptop screen from him. But you're not going to look, or anything. You know better than to take a look at your roommates porn habits, the stuff he drools over whilst he fucks his fist; a big, dextrous palm wrapped around his shaft.

You've done it. Clicked on the tab and nothing's exploded, as of yet. You turn down the brightness, with some shame, as if to make the paused video less explicit. But the image stays, a woman folded under the weight of the man above – in the middle of bullying his fat cock into her pussy. It's amateur; hot and sweaty and sticky, with only the woman fully visible. You suppose your curiosity's been sated, but you can't help but think…

…the woman. She looks like you.

Tilting your head, you can't help but see the resemblance. Not the exact same of course - but her hair is similar, body type, skin tone, eyes. It's not close enough to be weird, you guess, but it's enough that that thought stays - burrows into you like an earthworm into an apple. Scrolling down, you see other videos, with the same woman, other women that look like you - the telltale red bar of watched videos. Evidence, but not really, and it makes you heat up. Your mouth goes dry, and you look over to him: only able to concentrate on the hand he's got spread out at his belly, the brown flesh peeking out - and how it looks just like the one on the base of the woman's stomach in the video.

"...everything ok?" He's looking at you, suddenly; and you attempt to click over to your original tab, discreetly.

He doesn't seem to notice, padding over to your side and leaning into your shoulder.

"Yeah, no, I just…" All you can manage is a nervous smile. "The screen froze, so…"

"Oh." He gives the track pad a swipe. "Seems fine to m–"

He freezes up slightly, and you watch as his eyes flick up the screen. The laptop is eased out of your hands, and he gives a few quick clicks. By the time it's back in your lap, the offending tab is gone. Imperceptible, his jaw shifts.

"...Should be okay now."

You hum, a little amused at the display. He's seemingly unfazed, his little slip up notwithstanding, and leans back to lie up against you. Obnoxious, he splays onto the sofa cushions, his weight practically smothering you as you fight to push him off. You think he likes it – it's the only possible explanation – and gets off from watching you squirm. He seems desperate for a reaction, a child pushing boundaries and pressing buttons to see what exactly makes you tick.

And that's the second thing: it works . He's more touchy, and just as insufferable – jumping at any excuse to be near you, it seems. Miguel has a tendency to hover, follow you around the apartment as you talk aimlessly, and you do the same. You sit by against the doorway to the kitchen whilst he makes dinner; he floats around the door to your room when you try to study. In fact, you've spoken to your roommate more in the past week than you have in the past month; about anything and everything. Sometimes, he actually tells you where he goes during the day; off to lectures of his own, another tutoring session or his basically-an-unpaid-job of an internship. In your words, it seems like with the shit they make him do at Alchemex, he may as well be a full employee: with way fewer perks and a distinct paycut. It's almost as if they're paying for my degree, he says with an eye roll, practically hanging off your door frame.

He does that a lot, now: arms drawn upwards to lean from the oak trim. Especially during lazy mornings in - he'll hang on the frame, and move to tug at your heel, waking you up despite fervent protest. Ultimately, it's a kindness and you don't know how to tell him how much you appreciate it; as he wakes you up on time to get to the library in good stead. You're still waiting on that laptop, debating whether or not to bite the bullet; but for now Miguel obliges, letting you borrow his now and then.

He's not nice, you think his tongue is much too sharp for that; but he is kind, giving you some grace you're not too sure you deserve. It's more than what you've been given in a relationship of 4 years, and you don't know how to feel about it.

Well, you do. Your talk on the living room floor not so long ago flipped a switch and all of a sudden you're paying attention to your roommate; really, really looking at him. He is very, very pretty; with a tendency for lingering touches disguised as something else. And you're out of practice: horny, frustrated, stressed. With the way he touches you; a hand on your back to greet you, a squeeze of your shoulder to tease, bare legs across yours on the sofa; it's a lethal combo.

And here you are, headphones on, prepping to take a dildo. Incredibly self-indulgent, but you need it . You don't quite have the emotional stability for a one night stand (you think if someone touches you just right, you'll fall in love), but this dry spell has taken its toll.

It wasn't just after the break up, either. Mismatched libidos had felt like a steady death knoll. Realistically, you knew Jaime was always too tired after a placement, but it didn't make you feel wanted. You just want to be desirable and fucked within an inch of your life – was that too much to ask?

As a result, your toy drawer had grown: vibrators and dildos, clit-suckers and g-spot strokers; crude once said aloud, but all in search of something. With the stress of school and Miguel, Schrodinger's slut ; it's a wonder you haven't cracked it open earlier.

You're on the floor, its purple base suctioned to the hardwood and towels to cushion your knees. Lower half completely exposed, it's an art , porn on your phone to complete the visage. The screen is smaller than that of the laptop you're used to, only providing some stimulation. And so, as you sink down on its silicone length, you can't help but think back to the sofa - and the videos squirrelled away on an incognito tab. Miguel, hunched over and fisting his cock to someone that looks like you; maybe even thinking of you – although the jury's still out, on that one.

But you keep it close to your chest, rub your clit to the thought of it: you're his type, and maybe he'd fuck into you like the man on your screen. Broad, gorgeous shoulders and you wonder how pretty he'd look with scratches littered down his back, or hickeys sucked into skin: lips plump and messy and swollen.

"Oh, fuck," You say it under your breath, knowing that whilst Miguel is out of the house, it still feels odd to put your lips around the pleasure that thinking of him gives.

You speed up, the slap of thighs ringing out into your bedroom. The dildo is around 6 inches, sizeable; but you can't help but wonder how it compares to Miguel's. He might even be bigger; thicker, most definitely; and you bet his cock is just as pretty as he is. Oh fuck, and he'd tease; press into your hole just to snatch it away at the last second, rubbing persistent circles at your clit. You hear his voice in your head, the low grunts and groans you've memorised from all those nights he's spent with other girls.

"Miguel," You're moaning shamelessly now. "...f-fuck, please–"

There must be something electric in the way he fucks: with the litany of girls in and out of his bedroom, what keeps them coming back? He must talk them through it, whispering filth with his plush lips against their ear, and you wonder what he'd say to you. God , you'd give anything to hear it him say, just once, how beautiful he thinks you are; for him to wrap his hand around your neck and pull you close. You want him to fuck you; hard and deep and desperate.

With that, your pace quickens and you gush around the toy. A spasm of limbs, and you're clamping down on the silicone – an orgasm that leaves you breathless and heaving. You convince yourself it's the taboo of it: fucking yourself to the thought of your roommate, after listening to his grunts and groans for the past couple weeks. He started it … thin walls, and all that.

You ignore the want that lays stubborn at the pit of your stomach, riding through stuttering spasms as your orgasm winds down. You're touch starved, that's all, and Miguel's the closest warm body to latch onto. Nothing more, nothing less. Groaning, you shift, picking up your hips to gear up for another round. Just once more, so you know for sure.

Thin walls. The sound leaks into your roommate's bedroom. But with your headphones on, you can't hear the sounds that echo back: Miguel O'Hara, back home early, with an ear pressed to the wall and desperately pumping his cock.

~~~

"I'm not completely convinced, to be honest." You're in Miguel's car, tongue sticking out as you fiddle around with the dials.

His gaze flicks over, and bats your paws off the dashboard. Flopping into your seat, you watch as he turns up the AC and switches the radio, as if reading your mind.

"You really think I'd go through all this trouble?" He scoffs. "Bundle your ass out of the house and drive all the way here to…. do what exactly?"

"Assert dominance in our shared ecosystem." You say it with finality, and he scrunches up his face in confusion.

"...what does that even mean?"

"Like in that nature doc you were watching the other day."

"Well, the point was that spiders aren't hierarchical in the traditional sense. They form colonies that are… quasi-social, if anything, and–" He pauses. "Wait. You were paying attention?"

You shrug. "I thought it was interesting."

"Seriously?"

"...no, not really."

You laugh as he pulls over to park, in a space next to what looks like an apartment complex. It looks way nicer than your place, with sandy brick and hedges that look well kept. Your laughter peters off. Miguel looks decidedly not amused.

He opens the car door and clambers out as you scramble for the seatbelt. To your surprise, he opens the door for you; stretching out a hand for stability as you get out. When you both walk over to the intercom, your palm burns with his touch, and flexes with the memory of it. It's becoming a problem, his hands. You push down the beginnings of a hazy daydream. He presses a panel, waiting for the buzz.

"Lyla? Could you let us up?"

He waves demurely to the camera, and the receiver clicks. A cheery voice rings back.

"...Us? Who's us, Miggy? Did you finally find a girl that puts up with your shit?" Her voice is singsong, teasing. With a smile, you watch as Miguel bristles, speaking into the slick panel.

"My roommate, Jesus, Ly–" He says the next bit a little rushed, turning away slightly as if you still can't hear her loud and clear. "I thought we went through this, you can't keep trying to embarassmeeverytimeI–"

She talks over him towards the end, rapid-fire banter that you can barely make out.

"You never come and visit, except when it's 2am and you need to break into–"

"Once! It was one time! Déjate, ya está bueno ya–"

[Let it go, that's enough now–]

"Let it go? No, no, absolutely not… what is it that you always say? It's the principle –"

"Can you just fucking open the–"

"What's the magic word?"

He sighs, mouthing an apology to you. "Lyla–"

"Magic. Word."

He mumbles. "Please."

"Please what?"

"Please could you open the fucking door."

There's a pause, and rustling over the intercom. The door buzzes open.

In the elevator up, you keep quiet, trying your hardest not to burst out laughing. Miguel is visibly brooding; arms crossed and brow furrowed.

"Don't." He says, with a pout you almost think is cute. Almost.

"I'm trying really, really hard not to." You put your hands up, as if to surrender. "... Miggy."

"Fuck off." And then, a little softer.

"...I told you I have friends."

~~~

You leave it at that until you're in Lyla'a apartment, when she opens and ushers you in. She looks exactly the way she sounds: pretty, mousy features, with her hair in short, choppy layers. She's bundled up into a plush white robe; heart-shaped sunglasses sliding down the tip of her nose.

Miguel breezes past her, towards the murmuring voices you can just about make out in the front room.

"Lovely to see you too, Miguel." It's under her breath, but when she turns towards you there's a twinkle in her eye.

You introduce yourself, and she pulls you into a tight hug.

"I know," She says. It's ominous, but her voice is light and airy. When you separate, she flashes a wide smile. "Lyla. It's nice to put a face to a name."

"Uhh, sorry. What?" She ushers you further into her apartment as you speak, confused.

"Oh, Miggy talks about you all the time. Complaining , mostly, but in that way he gets when he's trying really, really hard to pretend he doesn't care. Like, he texted me yesterday and–"

"Thaaat's enough." You feel hands on your shoulders, and all of a sudden, Miguel is steering you away from her grip. You stumble into her living room, so bright and airy your eyes have to adjust to the light that floods in. Looking around, her apartment is gorgeous; a spacious open plan, floor-to-ceiling windows with a prime view, and lush furniture. Everything about it screams expensive – especially in comparison to your paltry place. Maybe the shock is visible on your face, but you're in awe. She can't be much older than Miguel, right? She looks about the same age, mid-twenties, not too far-removed from college… and it isn't quite adding up.

"How can she afford this? That's what you're thinking." There's a voice on the sofa that makes you blink. A young man with messy brown hair, a set jaw and 5 o'clock shadow calls out to you in between mouthfuls of pizza. "Lyla's… mmhgh… suuper fuckin' rich… mmfgh… that's how."

It's then that you notice there are other people here, sprawled out on the sofa set; boxes of takeout on the side tables next to them. Of course Lyla's rich: only 20-somethings with money to spare have matching sofas.

She's like Beetlejuice, or the Candyman, and pops up next to you when her name's said.

"I work in tech! With a cute little job on Wall Street, and a part-time one white hat hacking." She clarifies. " Ethical hacking."

She giggles like she's told a joke somewhere, and you nod – still not quite understanding.

"...and some side gigs that aren't as ethical." A blond haired man next to Mouthful-Of-Pizza pipes up. "When are you going to introduce us, Miguel?"

He's grumbling in the kitchen area, digging through the shelves for something. He returns with a bag of chips and dip in a container, flopping onto the zebra print throw pillows. Distracted, he waves a hand around the group noncommittally.

"Uhh, Peter, Ben, Lyla." He gestures to you, saying your name, and then to himself; tearing open the bag at the same time. "-and Miguel. All done"

"My turn for questions, now," Miguel says, pointing at Lyla, looking at the boys to his side. "Is she…?"

"...super high? Most definitely." Lyla giggles at Ben's words, for good measure.

"...right. Peter Parker, nice to meet you." He throws a thumb to the back of the sofa, where you notice a little mop of red curls peeking out. "And this is my little Mayday."

Peals of laughter erupt from behind him, and you notice grubby hands with a death grip to the cushion rest. Miguel leaps up, rushing to her side to help her up its back.

"Ayyy dios mio." He scoops her up carefully, "Buenas, Arañita."

Mayday is on his lap now, a little toddler of about 1 or 2, snaking herself around to hug Miguel's chest. She is certifiably the cutest thing you've ever seen: gap-toothed and giggly, with a smatter of freckles like someone's flicked a paintbrush across her nose. And with the way Miguel melts, you can die happy, knowing that you've seen the impossible: Miguel O'Hara, cooing and fussing over the little girl.

"Arañita?" You ask, to no one in particular.

"Itsy-bitsy spider." . ..is the sing-song, choral response from everyone but Miguel. They're mimicking his tone of voice, and he raises his head from May, looking around.

"I don't sound- "

"You do, dude." Peter sighs, tickling the little red head on the tummy; smiling as she collapses into bright laughter. "I don't have a nickname, and I've known you waaay longer than she has."

Miguel covers her tiny little ears, and says, "Eres un pendejo, Parker . "

[you're a dipshit, Parker]

The scraggly man sticks his tongue out in response, and May pulls at his hair for good measure. He yelps, and Miguel passes her over to her Dad. The scene is funny, for sure, but you feel it's warmth more than anything. God, you can tell they've loved and laughed with each other for years; the kind of friendship you'd kill to have.

"We just need whatever's left of her laptop, Lyla," He's blunt, batting away long forgotten chips and dip. "...and then we'll get going. Wish I could stay longer, Arañita, but I've got some work to finish off."

May makes grabby hands at him, and you melt. Who knows how Miguel can stay strong in the face of her big, round eyes.

He gets up to stand next to you, arms crossed. The height difference is stark: his tall, solid frame towering over everyone else. It seems like an intimidation tactic, but you know him just well enough to tell: he's trying not to be swayed by puppy eyes and promises of food.

"You just got here, Miggy." Lyla sighs. "We're going over prep for Jess', and we'll be two minutes, I swear."

"Oh?" His eyebrows light up. "I knew it! You were being evasive on the group chat, and Pete wasn't returning my calls…"

Huffing, he clasps his hand around yours, ready to storm out. "This is an ambush. A goddamn setup!"

"Wait, Miguel, I need my-"

"I'll pick it up later for you, okay?" It's said like an aside, so soft only you can hear it. With his hand around yours, it certainly feels more intimate than it should. And it seems like he realises a little too late, dropping your hand as your faces are mere inches away.

"Um, we should… we should go."

You look past him to the faces blinking at you guys, on the sofa. A pause, and then you're gulping down stubborn feelings to ask a question.

"Jess' ? Is there a party, or something?"

Lyla nods. "Yeah, and Miguel's meant to be picking up cake."

The man in question pinches his nose. "I can pick up the cake just fine. It's the whole… going to a party bit I'm not too keen on."

"Come onnn, you know Jess would love it."

"She'd love to blackmail me with some dumb shit I did drunk, that's for sure."

"It's her birthday, hardass ." Peter whispers that last bit, covering little May's ears like before. "She can have a little blackmail, as a treat."

"You're gonna say no to a surprise party ?" Ben echoes, shaking his head dramatically.

"A surprise birthday?" You light up. "Miguel, you have to go."

His stony demeanor cracks, for a moment. You latch onto it, hellbent on wearing him down. He's always got his laptop out doing work, or cracking open a little notebook to prep a lab. When he's not at home, he's at that internship, or tutoring, or planning a tutoring session. Work, work, work; and you'll be dammed if you let him rot away in a little cage of his own machinations.

"Come on, Miggy." You watch him bristle, prying at that little crack in the surface. This has to be done with finesse: present a challenge, and watch him scramble to prove you wrong. "You're telling me a couple of hours at a party's too much for you? That's it? "

"That's not–"

"S'what it sounds like to me." You shrug, a little smile on your face. The aim is to look as smug as possible; and it seems to be working.

His jaw shifts, annoyed. Lyla catches on, giving you a crazed smile.

"Even your roommate's gonna come." She says, an arm linked in yours.

"I am?" She gives you a little dig, and you're spluttering. "Y-Yeah, I am!"

You can see him fight with his own ego; but it's a one-sided affair.

"Fine. " He strains. "Two hours, max. And then I'm gone."

Lyla gives you a squeeze, and then wraps you both up in a hug he desperately tries to fight off. Ben slots around you guys, and Peter's last to join, with Mayday squealing on his shoulders.

Eventually, you get what's left of your laptop: a little thumb drive with as much as Lyla could save. You'd thanked her profusely, of course; trying to slither out of her vice grip of a hug, as best you could. She's absolutely batshit, the good kind; cryptic, and strange, but with a lot of heart. She makes you wonder, and they all do; just how did they become friends with Miguel? How do they fit?

The man himself seems a little different, as if reinvigorated by being around friends. In fact, you catch him smiling to himself on the drive home. It's sweet; to see a different side of him around people he's clearly comfortable with. If only for a little while, he sheds the heavy weight he seems to carry around.

Around the house, you notice he seems lighter – humming to himself whilst cooking dinner. That very day, you watch the little sway of hips as he stirs a pot; headphones in, singing under his breath. He can't sing for shit, of course, and he'd kill you if you ever uttered a word; but it's a sight you commit to memory, not knowing when next he'll be in such a good mood.

There's still the question of a new laptop in the air, but you feel more settled by the events of the day. You're a little less fucked school-wise, you've got a party to look forward to, and potentially a drunk Miguel to make fun of. He goes to bed early; and you can hear the quiet drone of a podcast from the other side of the wall. He drifts off to the sweet, dulcet tones of Top Ten Genetic Precursors for Early Onset Dementia; one of his favourites, you've determined.

All is well, for now. A tentative truce, and maybe, just maybe: you're finally friends with your roommate.

~~~

There's something about dramatic irony that seems to smack you across the face, every time.

You've come to somewhat of a understanding with your prickly roommate, and the stream of women in his bed seem to slow down, for a bit. He's hot, he's a whore; but he's sweet, with an eye for detail. He can read you with a scary amount of accuracy. Antsy and hungry from a long day? He leaves you scratching your head at his clairvoyance when you come home, chucking you a hot water bottle and a warm meal. You go to bed with a full belly, cramps abated.

He's still a prick, of course. Sarcastic comments, and a massive grump – but you've learnt to deal with that. Just a couple of days after a seemingly settled week; what you can't wrap your head around is the pounding music from next door, at fuck-off-o'clock . He shouldn't be awake, let alone interrupting your late night study session.

You're pissed, leaping from your desk to pound at his door. You're thudding towards his room, ready to deliver a well-deserved verbal lashing, and the door just… swings open. Empty; there's a window ajar and music pumping from speakers. Bachata and cheesy 90s R&B; which sounds suspiciously like his sex playlist.

Yes, he has a sex playlist. And it really has no business to sound as good as it does.

Nevertheless, you're resolute. If he's managed to sneak someone, at this hour, you decide he's going to get more than a stern talking to.

There's clattering in the kitchen, and you whip around; half-expecting the giggle of another girl. When you walk in, it's just Miguel, rummaging through cupboards: a half-naked thief in the night.

"Miguel?"

He pops his head up from a cabinet, with a half-eaten piece of bread in his mouth. Caught red-handed, you suppose; and he gives you a little smile.

"S'everyfin' – mmmfggh –" He scarfs the rest of it down. "Everything okay?"

You squint. "No. Not really."

He chuckles, a slight rasp at the edges of his voice. Dickhead – what exactly is so funny?

"You can't have your music so fucking loud, not when I'm studying. It's the middle of the night and–"

Dressed in nothing but a pair of gray sweats, he's busying himself with a sandwich on the counter; clattering around noisily like he doesn't have full control of his limbs. Which is…. weird, admittedly. You'd trust Miguel to slice a grape with a machete – his dexterity is usually unmatched. Not that you'd made a habit of staring at his hands, or anything.

"Are you even listening to me?"

He nods, attempting to keep a straight face, but the faux solemnity does nothing to hide that droop of eyelids and slump of his shoulders. You get closer, pushing him to face you properly.

"Oh, fuck," His eyes are a little red, hair messy and windswept. "Are you… high? "

Miguel O'Hara? High? You'd never thought you'd live to see the day, honestly. His eyes go wide, dropping his sandwich dramatically. And then he's got a big hand at your shoulder, pulling you closer with a finger pressed to his lips.

"Shhh! You can't-" Now, he gets close, whispering your name like he's saying something he shouldn't. "You can't tell anyone."

With the way he says your name it makes you light-headed. It's slow and careful, as if he's testing the way it feels spilling from his lips. And maybe, with the way he smiles, it feels good; tastes sweet wrapped around his tongue.

"I won't." You breathe, and then you're both giggling.

There's something about the way he looks at you, peering under heavy lashes; basically eye-fucking you in the space of your tiny kitchen. You feel bare in a little t-shirt and sleep shorts; suddenly exposed.

"You should…" He starts, cocking his head ever so slightly. "Join me, chula. "

It's soft; sinful, even; said as he coaxes you between his body and the kitchen counter.

You don't trust your voice enough to answer, legs already shaky, so you nod. Slight, at first; and then with a little more gusto as the idea of him and you on his sheets – intimate, alone – creeps in. He stretches out a hand, and you take it; led to his bedroom like a scene you've seen before. All those girls before you; led to the dragon's lair like damsels in a fairytale. Except in this one, you suppose, you're not waiting for a knight in shining armour to save you.

He sits you down on the bed, passing you a freshly rolled blunt. Passing it to your lips , more specifically; hand on your chin as he brings the lighter up to its end. Even prettier up close, all you can do is watch the press of plump lips, and pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates. As he leans in, there's a hand on your bare thigh. You inhale, deeply, and he hums with content.

"Good girl," He purrs, prying it from your lips to take a slow drag.

"You're a bad influence." You murmur, watching as his eyes flutter shut.

"You need to relax," He leans back, arm drawn lazily upwards. "This is helping."

"That's not–" Oh. You feel it now, a steady haze rolling over limbs.

Miguel quirks up an eyebrow, amused.

You repeat, slowly, "You're a bad influence ."

"Does it feel good?" You pause, trying to ignore his low tone; and the steady blaze that it ignites within you. Dragging your eyes to meet his, you see it: want, lust, something heavy that swirls behind them.

You nod, itching for another pull. As if psychic, he gestures for you to come closer; and your lips almost slot against his. He exhales, and you inhale; in the closest thing you've come to a kiss in months. It makes you ache for just a little more contact, for those pretty hands to slot between your thighs and–

"Is this all I need to do for some quiet around here?" He asks, lilting. If only he'd stop talking; interrupting your fantasy with that stupid grin of his.

You're shaking your head, laughing at the sheer gall .

"You're fucking someone new every week, O'Hara. Loud. Who was it the other day? Cathy, Kayla –"

"Sita, actually." He has a strange expression on his face. "And we didn't fuck. Just going over lecture notes."

"Sorry . Must have gotten mixed up with the half-dozen other girls in and out of here. Our apartment's not a brothel , Miggy."

He rolls his eyes, handing you the remnants of the blunt.

"...s'not my fault there isn't anyone fucking you right."

You scoff. "How would you know?"

"Thin walls. " It's cryptic. What the fuck does that mean?

You take a careful drag, and hand the blunt back – trying your hardest not to strangle him. It must show on your face as you tussle with the thought, because Miguel is staring; unabashedly, unashamedly. When you notice, it throws you off.

"... what?" Ready to defend yourself, you huff.

He shrugs. His expression is soft, reminding you of that night, not long ago.

"You look like a painting."

You practically short circuit. You've been complimented before, of course. Hot, by men trying to get into your pants. Pretty, sometimes. Beautiful, the other times. Whether it's been sincere, you don't know – but you're smart enough to not overthink it. It's hard enough to live a life, as it is; and you'd rather not be bogged down by what others think, how you look whilst doing it. And yet, you feel your body betray you; a steady bloom of heat at your heart, like you've been stabbed. So deep, it spreads like blood on the front of a blouse. Like a painting, he says. And you like the way he says it; how it sounds spilling from his lips.

Its implication sits heavy. Like a painting : hand-crafted, silken, soft –

He blinks, the crack of a smile on his face. And it ends in a fit of giggling, if you can even call it that.

"Stop fucking with me." You grumble, and he thinks the way your face scrunches up with disdain is cute. There's probably an implication there he should unpack in therapy – how he likes it when you shout and put him in his place – but he's much too high to care.

"M'not-" He quiets down, flattens his face into something resembling sobriety and gravitas. He gets a little closer, so close you can feel the heat of his body and flutter of lashes. With wide, dilated pupils, he stills - and it really doesn't help that he looks so pretty.

"Can't stop thinking about you, hermosa." His voice is low, slurred with the weight of the blunt he's taken careful drags of. Every word makes you feel hazy, drawn in by his lips. " Fuck, all the time."

"Hear your laugh in my dreams, sometimes." He circles your bare thigh carefully, without breaking eye contact. With a thumb on your chin, he brings you closer, and closer still. Gently, you close your eyes, expecting the press of his lips against yours…

…instead, you get a puff of smoke for your troubles. Reeling, you push him away. He collapses on the bed in a laughing fit.

"... now I'm fucking with you." Rumbling laughter, and you've got the wherewithal to be embarrassed – hand still resting on his bare chest.

A little cruelly, you push down, giving him an elbow to the ribs for good measure and he splutters with surprise – laughing all the same.

"Asshole." You slur, and he grabs your arm to pull you onto the covers with him. You paw at him wildly, wrestling amongst the table of sheets. It's not a fair fight, not really; the wide expanse of his bare chest feels solid, and he's probably got more muscle in his pinky toe than you do in your whole body. Miguel is strong , but plays along regardless, pinning you to the bed with his hands around your wrists - but lets you turn him over just as quick. You're both laughing, the blunt long forgotten but its haze blurring the lines. You straddle his middle, hips flush against his and he keens; head back and cheeks flushed.

"Fuck," It's quiet, said as he writhes below you and you try to pin his hands above his head. Maybe it's the weed, but he lets you: eyes low, breath steady. And you stay like that, for a moment; bodies laid against one another.

You don't know who starts it: the slow roll of hips, the swell of his cock bucking up against your heat. Regardless, you welcome it, letting the heat build up with the pressure at your clit. Your hips sway and all Miguel can do is watch.

Lips parted, head back; and you set a steady rhythm that washes over you both.

Humping against one another, you get more desperate and drag your hands to his chest for purchase. Underneath you, Miguel practically purrs – one hand on your waist and the other clutching yours at his chest.

"So, so pretty…" He sighs into it, wide palm pawing at your ass, shamelessly grabbing handfuls. By now, he's rock hard; and you feel him throb through the thin material of his sweats.

"Fuck, I can't–" You moan, ragged, the roll of your hips gaining speed.

Miguel coos, bringing a hand to your chin to pull you closer to the crook of his neck.

"Too fast, hermosa. S-Slow it down for me." He grips your waist, forcing the pace to slow. Your hips stutter against his, delicious pressure making you cry out. And, God, you're close; pleasure building up at your gut.

"Ohhh, fuck. Just like that, just like–" It's soft, whispered between the press of bodies like a prayer: reverent, intimate, a slew of garbled English and Spanish into the shell of your ear that goes straight to your pussy.

"A-Ahi, ahi–"

[t-there, there–]

Plush lips brush against your cheek, and you try so hard to not float away - with only his words to keep you tethered.

"... no pares lo que sea que estes haciendo–ohh-fuck–"

[don't stop what you're doing, oh fuck–]

The coil at the base of your stomach snaps, and you arch into his touch as he does the same. Miguel spills into his sweats, heaving with the effort. He can feel the clench of your pussy above, and he chases it in the aftermath; craning his neck to finally get a kiss. Limbs heavy, you still manage to swerve so his kisses land at your jaw. He's grateful for the contact anyway it comes and sucks careful hickies into the skin: at your neck, your collarbone, and anywhere else he can reach.

You sink into it, curl up on his chest like a housecat; his hands wandering the gentle slope of your back under your shirt.

Limbs heavy, you pry yourself from his hands ever so slightly. He strains to follow you up, snapping back into the sheets like an elastic band. Still, he kneads at your flesh - bare thighs spilling from your shorts.

" Miguel," You whisper, hand travelling past his neck to cradle his jaw. "Need more…"

You punctuate that last word with a roll of your hips. Wanton, conflicted; he groans .

"It's late, chula. " He says it slowly, hesitant – like he can't believe the words are coming out of his mouth. He's still high, lost in the whispy remnants of that blunt. You've never known weed to make someone more responsible, and you flop to his side, a little childishly.

Miguel makes sure to keep a hand wrapped around your waist, dragging his other knuckles up your exposed tummy so that it rides up to the swell of your tits.

"And you've got that 9am."

You cover your face with the span of your hands, grumbling. From between the gaps in your fingers, you repeat,

" ...and I've got that 9am ."

He traces lazy circles in your flesh. Maybe it's the blunt, or the afterglow of an orgasm; but you make him laugh, a gentle ache replacing the creak and shudder of gears.

"Idiot." He says, kissing it into your skin. And he burns from the touch, fleeting; like the warm flame from paper lanterns, or the flicker of a lighter against cool night air.

Miguel taglist (1): @d1lf-loverrr, @afro-hispwriter @ilovemiguelohara @weedxgirlx420 @ladydovahkiin180 @aaliyuh3 @sweetanimebakery @vvitcxen @rosecoloredlenses708 @daikondal @magikmina @impettywhenyouare @alonelygirlsuicidenote @plushyplants @javi0ca @rheeves @starrfruit @nikirikii @marsbars09 @foxglove-grove @mimooyi @crosshairclown @dead-by-light @kynamitedessert @naarra @wanderlustingcastaway @sagejin @cookielovesbook-akie @tangerineloverrr @gobblegluckgluckgod @wolfiepirate @jxxey3 @ebrysteria @elliemm @manchuria @youngghostpeachslime @weasleybuns

@ilovemuppets @vauriz @bonbyon @aimno256 @ancientbeing10 @tvije @venus1224idkpleaze @neteyamsbulletwound @chickenjefferson-blog @maki-z @jasjasthings @aiyaaayei @hyp-oh-critical @tea-earl-grey-thot @sunset-euphoria @moonsio @akiras-key@szaplsdropthealbum@levanneisdumb @naiya-patel17 @Serostapesweat @strawberrymiguel @yumeeesss @errorundyne-exe @spear-bitch @redsoleily @marsissoswag @slezhara @ye4gerzz @adlct515 @nanam1 @indigocookie @cincocosas-blog @starguiders @path0logicalpeoplepleaser@funkyfishy@whoreloll@eugeab@tarjapearce@maddielikesmoths@egotaestical

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #kat_writes😼#rigor mortis 😼#spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 x reader #atsv x reader #atsv fic

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 6 months ago

Text

Flower Crowns.

masterlist || ask my anything <3

anniversary masterlist here !!

authors note - hi!! this is the last post ill be doing for my anniversary week and this is one of my most favourite little one shots ive wrote in my opinion so i hope you enjoy, it’s a little bit dark so if that’s not your cuppa then feel free to skidadle ☺️

word count - 1k

in which, harrys your body guard because your father is a mafia boss and instead of him taking a bullet for you, you end up taking a bullet for him.

warnings - mentions of guns and shooting, mafia, vulgar language and blood.

With your books hugged close to your chest and your backpack thrown over one shoulder, The campus is bustling with students, the energy vibrant and contagious. You and your best friend Rayleigh chat animatedly, caught up in the ease of your conversation.

"I can't believe Professor Thompson assigned us another case study," Rayleigh groans, rolling her eyes. "Does he think we have no other classes?"

You laugh, adjusting your grip on your books. "I know, right? As if we didn't already have enough on our plates. But I guess it's good practice."

Rayleigh nods in agreement, her expression softening. "Yeah, you're right. Still, it's going to be a long night. Coffee later?"

"Absolutely," you reply, grinning. "I wouldn't survive without our study sessions."

As you walk through the corridors, you spot Harry leaning casually against your locker. His presence is striking, a mix of calm and vigilance that makes him stand out from the crowd. He's dressed in a plain black T-shirt and jeans, his tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

"There's your shadow," Rayleigh teases, nudging you gently.

You chuckle, feeling a mixture of embarrassment and amusement.

Rayleigh gives you a quick hug. "See you later."

"Bye, Ray," you say, waving as she heads off.

You approach your locker, where Harry straightens up as you get closer.

"Hey," you greet him, opening your locker and starting to put your things away.

"Hey," Harry replies, his voice steady and calm. "How was class?"

"Busy, as usual," you say, glancing over at him. "Professor Thompson assigned us another case study. I'm starting to think he enjoys watching us suffer."

Harry chuckles softly. "Sounds intense. Y’handling it okay?"

"Yeah, it's all part of the deal," you shrug, organizing your books. "How about you? How's standing guard duty treating you?"

He smirks. "S’a bit different from m’usual assignments, but I don't mind. Keeps me on my toes."

You finish putting your things away and close your locker, turning to face him fully. "I appreciate it, you know. Having you around makes me feel a lot safer."

Harry's expression softens slightly. "S’the goal. M’here to make sure nothing happens to you."

You nod, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence. "Thanks, H. It means a lot."

He nods in return, his gaze steady and reassuring. "Anytime. Ready to head home?"

As you walk towards your car, chatting with Harry about inconsequential things, a sense of normalcy begins to settle over you. The campus is still busy, students milling around, completely unaware of the tension that shadows your every step.

Suddenly, you notice a red dot flickering on Harry's chest. Your heart stops. Your mind races, realizing the implications—someone knows Harry is protecting you, and taking him out would make it easier for them to get to you.

Without a second thought, you push Harry out of the way. "Harry, look out!"

A gunshot rings out, splitting the air, and you feel a searing pain in your shoulder. You scream, falling to the ground in front of him.

The world spins as you hit the pavement, agony spreading through your body. Students around you scream and scatter, the chaos erupting in the once peaceful campus.

Harry is at your side in an instant, his face a mask of panic and horror.

"No, no, what have you done?" he cries, crouching down next to you. "Silly, silly girl."

A tear slips down his cheek, and your heart aches at the sight. You've never seen him cry before, not once in all the time you've known him. The anguish in his eyes is almost too much to bear.

You manage to smile weakly through the pain. "Harry... you're too pretty to cry."

"And you're too pretty to die," he replies, his voice breaking. "S’was never supposed to happen. S’my job to protect you."

He presses down on your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, his hands shaking. "Everything is going to be fine. Just hold on, help is coming."

You focus on Harry’s face, seeing the raw emotion and determination in his eyes.

"Promise me….you'll be careful," you manage to say, your voice barely audible.

"M’promise," he says fiercely, more tears falling. "But y’have to promise me you'll fight. Fight to stay with me."

You nod weakly, using every bit of strength you have left. "I'll... fight."

As the world around you blurs and fades, Harry’s face is the last thing you see, filled with raw, heartbreaking emotion. He leans closer, his voice trembling.

"I love you," he whispers, his words like a lifeline pulling you back from the brink.

Love.

You had always loved Harry, you can’t pinpoint a time when you first felt it, perhaps it was when you first met him, or when your lips first connected to his, but it was a feeling you had always felt and always would feel.

"I... love you too," you whisper back, your voice barely more than a breath. The pain is overwhelming, and you can feel yourself slipping away.

"Tell my father..." you start, struggling to get the words out. "Tell him I want a flower crown... when I'm buried."

Flower crowns had always been your thing, your mother had taught you how to make them when you were little and your father always had one in his office, as a reminder of both you at her.

His girls.

They were a symbol of your family.

Like a family crest.

Harry shakes his head fiercely, more tears spilling down his cheeks. "You're not going to get buried because you and I are going to get married and live forever. We'll have babies and grow old together."

You manage a faint smile at his words, the thought of a future with him a beautiful distraction from the pain. "Harry..."

"Stay with me," he pleads, his voice raw with emotion. "Keep your eyes open. Don't you dare close them."

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love2poetry · 5 months ago

Text

loml

⤷ mcu!peter parker x artsy!reader

𝜗𝜚. . . synopsis. you are both peter's love and loss of his life

𝜗𝜚. . . general tag. mostly fluff & some angst

.ᐟ. . . content warnings. if you see any grammar mistakes, keep them to yourself pls thx<3 might be cringe tbh

♫⋆｡ our field of dreams, engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and i'll still see it until i die, you're the loss of my life

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ sophia's letter ! i wrote this as it's raining and can you guess what scented candle i have lighting? 😝 anyway i went through a depressive episode for no reason so i took a hiatus, but i might be back for the summer. i often go through another one when school starts so im gonna do the most now. i was thinking of making a part two for this using 'peter' but idk. anyway, HIIII NEW GRACIE ALBUM THIS WEEK RAGHH

prequel

wc. 1,926

spring had just began, more warm days after months of freezing cold weather. today, however, seemed to be one of the few cold, rainy days february had left. you had finished homework earlier today, always wanting to have your weekends free as much as you can, so you decided to occupy your mind with something else more calming.

after finishing the last of your ap psychology assignment, you walked to your kitchen and made yourself a quick matcha. as you measured the green powder into your cat mug - a lovely gift peter got you because one of the cats in the bug is a calico, like your own cat - a thud was heard from your room. it was followed by an 'ow' quickly after, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

peter.

at the sudden noice, autumn, your calico cat, run cautiously out of your room. after finishing your matcha with some creamer, you also walked to your room.

peter looked towards the door upon sensing you. his spidey sense usually only triggered when danger was near, however, when it came to you, peter was able to feel you. he couldn't describe it, but there was something in you that made him feel safe. it was a warm feeling that ran down his spine, and maybe it was because he was in your room, but he could also smell the vanilla lotion you love to use. everything about you made him feel like he was engulfed by a soft blanket.

so it was no surprise that the first thing peter did was offer you a smile. you automatically smile back of course. how could you not when he looks at you like that, like he was going to somehow bring you the moon he often photographed because it made him think of you.

'it's raining,' peter pointed with a boyish grin. the obvious pitter patter coming from your windows made you tilt your head playfully. 'you don't say.'

peter patrolled the streets of new york everyday as his alter ego, spider-man. but on days like this, he likes to use the weather as an excuse to come see you earlier instead. he has a build in heater in his suit of course, but in his opinion it doesn't work as well as a good cuddling season with you.

peter sets his masks down on your night stand. 'cuddles?'

you took a sip of your matcha as you walked to your desk. 'i have to work on my portfolio.' you heard him walk to your dresser that sat on the corner of your room where you had a drawer with his clothes to change to after patrol. 'i thought you were done with it?'

'yea, it's just,' your fingers glossed over your sketches. junior year was ending and soon college applications will start. it had been your dream to attend the art school of chicago, and now that applications are around the corner, you want to make sure everything is perfect. 'it doesn't feel complete.'

once peter was out of his wet suit and into his favorite pair of bright pink hello kitty pants matched with a plain white tee, he sneaked his arms around you, taking your comforting scent in. you felt him place a kiss in your hair, 'i think it's perfect.'

you turn to look at him with an unimpressed expression. his smile widens and he can't fight the urge to kiss you any longer. peter gently presses his lips into yours. he's always been delicate with his kisses, especially after being spider-man. you knew it was his way to ground himself after a day of fighting criminals, so you let him be as soft as he needed.

you loved it that way. you loved him that way.

peter pulls away first. 'i have some photos i took last week. you could draw some if you need.'

peter's hobby went hand in hand with your art. thanks to being spider-man, he was able to take some shots of new york no one else would be able to obtain, and he often let you sketch them, so often that half of his storage is pictures he takes for you to draw. the other half is probably of you.

you hum in agreement, still looking into peter's eyes. you have never loved brown as much as you do now.

'tomorrow.' peter took your mug in one hand, then used the other to hold your hand while he drag you over to bed. 'today, we cuddle.' he set your bug on the night stand.

you smile. 'okay.'

you two settled under your warm covers with you closest to your mug incase you want a sip, but before you could find a comfortable position, peter stood up, muttering a quick 'wait!'.

you frown, but understood what he was doing when he pulled a lighter from your drawer in the night stand. he lit up the candle that rested on top. apple pumpkin. you bought a few pumpkin scented candles last fall, and peter grew to love this specific one. he wasn't a fan of scented candles because of his enhanced smell, but this one was subtle enough for him to enjoy without getting a headache.

once peter returned to bed, he wrapped his arms around your waist with his head on your chest. he slightly tilted his head to plant a kiss into your skin. 'i love you.'

his whispered confession filled you with butterflies. you don't know what you did to be lucky enough to love this boy in your arms, let alone be loved back by him. one of your hands wrapped around his back, while the other caressed his check, slightly squishing his face. his chuckles echoed in the room along the rain when you started kissing his face.

two kisses on his right check, two more on the left, three on his forehead, and one on the bridge of his nose.

'i love you more.'

a bright smile stayed on peter's face as he shook his head. 'that's not possible.' your smile matched his, 'i think it is. no, i know it is.'

'i love you most.' before you could disagree, you felt his hands sneak under your shirt, cutting you off by tickling your sides. you squeak in surprise and try to squirm away. your laughter fills peter's ears, 'okay! i can't breathe!'

peter paused his movements and you inhale to suggest, 'we both love each other equally.'

peter makes a thinking face. 'i'll let you have this win,' he rolled his eyes playfully before settling in your arms again.

the two of you stayed intertwined in bed until you felt peter's breathing slow down, indicating he had fallen asleep. his weight was on your side now, but looking down at him you decided you wanted to engrave this moment forever.

swiftly, you reached for the small sketchbook you keep on your night stand. thankfully, you had left a pencil there too. you sat up slightly, making sure not to disturb peter's slumber. his arms tighten around you making you freeze, but the light snores coming from peter tell you he is still deep in his sleep.

you find a clean page and begin drawing shapes until you like how they all sit together. you move to the face proportions, not focusing on shading yet. your hand makes the hair part look effortless, and it may be from the many times you've drawn these curls. moving back to the face, you use your finger to blend the lines better.

finishing the rough draft, your focus goes to the nose, moving to the freckles you have memorized.

'stalker.'

peter's deep voice caused a blush to creep into your cheeks. it wasn't the first time peter caught you drawing him, he has seen the many sketches and paintings you've done of him, but you still shy way when his eyes follow every detail of him you've embedded into your mind.

if only you knew peter feels the same. to know the person he loves more than anything has memorized him, his body and soul, fills him with an indescribable feeling. he does the same with his camera. most of his photos are moments you've shared together that he wants to remember forever.

peter not having storage on his phone from all the candid pictures he has of you is his version of when you learned to draw the lines that form around his eyes when he smiles.

'shut up,' you nudge your leg against his. there's smiles on both of your faces as peter snuggles closer to you.

the room is rather dark by now, only the candle peter had previously lit and another lamp you always have create a cozy atmosphere. the warm glow of the lamp reaches your features enough for peter to see and he takes his time to draw his own painting of you in his mind.

the flickering flame of the candle mixing with the apple pumpkin scent ignite a perfect portrait of peter you ache to fabricate, you take a mental picture for later.

you could be here with peter for all time.

neither of you knew that it was only momentary.

peter climbed through the window, a plastic bag in hand. he pulled his mask off, wet hair falling over his eyes.

the loud thunder from outside shook his apartment. it started raining earlier that day, so peter decided to cut his patrolling short. he hadn't done it in a while.

his body was freezing from the harsh wind that he old suit would have kept him warm from. he walked towards a basket full of his clothes that sat in a corner, that was his dresser for the time being, and grabbed a gray shirt.

when peter picked up the shirt, he caught a glimpse of what once were a bright magenta hello kitty bottoms, is now a dull shade of pink. with a sinking feeling, peter decided to put them on as well.

he made it to his twin size bed where he left the bag and took out the single purchase he made.

a small scented candle. apple pumpkin.

once lit, he set it on the small dining table his studio apartment came with. he stared at it until the soft scent filled his nose. his throat closes when memories of you that are still imprinted in his mind come back. peter feels his left eye twitch as tears threaten to spill, but he refuses to cry.

he can't afford a breakdown. he has no one to turn to anymore. peter doesn't know if he can pick himself back up if he breaks. it was easier with tony because he had may and friends who cared about him. but especially because he had you.

now may is gone, he's a stranger to his friends, and every detail of peter you had memorized has been erased.

peter turns back to his bed and pulls the covers to get in. he continues to stare at the flame emotionless, slowly dissociating from his lonesome.

even after everything, peter can't comprehend how you could go from perfectly drawing the creases on his lips without a reference to not even remembering his name.

do you still have those pieces of him?

do you still draw him even now like it is muscle memory?

is he in your dreams like you are in his?

you will continue to occupy peter's mind until the day being spider-man finally kills him. you were his deepest love, and now his greatest loss.

#୧ ‧₊˚ 🏹 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝕭𝐋𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🎀 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐎𝐑𝐊𝐒 #୧ ‧₊˚ 🍰 ⋅ 𝕾𝐎𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐀 𝖂𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 #peter parker x you #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #mcu!peter x reader #mcu!peter parker #loml taylor swift #peter parker blurb #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #no way home #peter parker angst

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0310s · 5 months ago

Text

gently, by your side | jaehyun

members: myung jaehyun x gender neutral reader

genre: college au, angst, comfort, best friends! to ???, more platonic stuff in this one

tags/warnings: extensive discussions of mental health and chronic/mental illness, y/n is not okay. :(

summary: jaehyun finds you after a bad week.

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this fic’s title comes from this lovely song. as someone who’s struggled with both chronic and mental illness, it really takes someone strong and amazing to keep on going, despite everything. most of the dialogue in this comes from my own musings and experiences with mental health. i wrote this for a dear mutual of mine! i hope better days will come for you soon, whenever that may be. meanwhile, i hope this gives you comfort when things are tough! sending lots of love <3

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

5 days ago 1:28 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

(y/n) we haven’t seen each other in such a loooong time imy :(( i mean i KNOW it’s just been a couple of days since we last hung out but still!!!!!!! when are we seeing each other again !!!! tell me ur schedule QUICK !!!!

4 days ago 6:33 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeeyyyyyyyyy (with the intention to hang out) heeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy heeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyy reply to meeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!! tell me when ur free pls i miss u :((

3 days ago 11:58 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

hey i didn’t see u at the party today i thought u said u were going last week!!! also i asked around and people said they haven’t seen u around recently??? and they don’t know what ur up to

2 days ago 2:05 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

heeeyyyy ?????????? did i do smth????? or are u just really busy w school and work idk either way pls just let me know :(( i won’t bother u if ur rlllyyy busy

10:35 PM sorry if i’m being annoying btw

Yesterday 11:32 PM 🐶 cutie puppy

ok i thought about it reaaaaaallly hard and i don’t think i’ve done anything to make u mad or upset w me??? well aside from that time last last week that u got mad at me for accidentally messing w ur computer and deleting ur work files WHICH IM LIKE REALLY SORRY FOR but i fixed it!!!!! i thought we were good alrd!!! are u still mad at me 4 that ?

1:00 AM (y/n)?

1:28 AM idk i thought i was ur best friend :(( did smth change???

2:47 AM pls pls reply :(( i know we can talk this out i don’t want us to not be ok

Today 3:00 PM 🐶 cutie puppy i’m coming over.

𓉞⋆｡˚☁︎｡⋆

Sitting up from your bed, your heart thuds in anxiety as you quickly scroll through your chat history with Jaehyun. Your eyes hurt and your brain feels especially foggy, like you’re looking at the world through a particularly cloudy lens. How long did you sleep? The last thing you recall was working on your assignments last night, then choosing to sleep instead when you got overwhelmed. Even then, you slept fitfully. You remember setting an alarm at 9 AM today to continue working, but even as you sat at your desk, you couldn’t type a single sentence on your laptop. Everything felt muddled and it was as if you couldn’t understand anything at all. Even the cups of coffee you drank in desperation was of no use keeping you alert; all it did was make you palpitate.

Then you gave up, went back to bed, and you’re here now. Checking the chat timestamps, you realize you haven’t replied to Jaehyun’s messages in almost a week, which has never happened before—you talk almost everyday, even multiple times a day. Jaehyun’s last message was at 3 PM, when he said he’d come over. One look at your screen shows you it’s already 3:20. If you’ve memorized his schedule right, it takes your best friend thirty minutes to get to your dorm from his Fundamental Maths class. That means you have ten more minutes to get your shit together and clean your mess of a room.

But right when you’ve mustered the energy to stand up, you hear a series of knocks on your door. That can’t be— “(Y/n), open up, I know you’re in there!” Jaehyun’s voice echoes from outside the door. “I asked your dormmate and she said you haven’t left your room since yesterday, so there’s no use pretending!” Shit, shit, shit! You immediately spring up and hastily fold your blankets and organize your desk, throwing away stray food wrappers and plastic cups. You open your blinds to let some air in, and the bright sunlight makes your head throb even more.

On your way to the door, you spot yourself in the mirror. There’s no other word for it—you look like utter shit. Your eyebags are dark and prominent, your hair disheveled from tossing and turning in your sleep. You look horrendous, but Jaehyun is persistently knocking on your door, so you have no choice but to fix yourself up as fast as you can. You splash water on your face and smoothen down your hair and open the door—then there’s Jaehyun in all his glory. Your heart clenches seeing him; he looks as handsome as always, his bangs fluffy and soft and his letterman jacket fashionably oversized. He looks nothing like you in your ratty T-shirt with coffee stains and pajama shorts. His hand is halfway raised, positioned to knock at your door (he could and would probably do it all day if he had to). Upon seeing you, he blurts out: “Did I do something?”

Instead of answering him, you open your door wider as an invitation, and Jaehyun takes the hint, stepping into your dorm. Once the door is shut, Jaehyun peers at your messy room and remarks, “Wow. When was the last time you cleaned up? You’re usually not like this.”

You know he didn’t mean it like that, but his comment stings at you all the same. “Sorry, Jaehyun,” you snap, “not everyone can be at 200% energy all the time like you.” At his hurt expression, you backtrack. “Sorry, that was really rude of me.”

“It-It’s fine,” Jaehyun replies confusedly. Then he looks straight at you, eyes pleading. He’s picking at the stray thread hanging from his jacket, a habit you’ve come to known is something he does when he’s nervous. “You know what, I thought about it. For days, really, if I did anything that would make you mad and ignore me. But I couldn’t come up with anything at all. I was really worried when you didn’t reply to me for days on end, especially when we talk everyday. So if I did something, can—can you just tell me? I just want us to be okay.”

Your throat closes up and your heart pounds even faster, making you feel dizzy. You have no idea how to answer him, when all he’s ever seen of you is the perfect student who does everything right, who’s smart and good at what they do without any flaws or exceptions. How would he react if he saw you for who you really were?

The words can’t form in your mouth, and out of frustration at yourself, you tear up. Jaehyun notices this, eyes widening in worry, “(y/n), baby, no, no,” and pulls you into his arms. Almost instantly, the tears cascade down your face and sobs wrack your body. You feel pathetic crying in your best friend’s arms, but Jaehyun just soothes a hand up and down your back as you break down. His other arm is wrapped around your shoulders, and it feels like your anchor when you’re drowning in all your troubles. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he says in a hushed tone, “let it all out.” You grip his jacket even tighter as you bury your face in his chest.

When was the last time you’ve ever been hugged like this? The last time you’ve ever been truly vulnerable to anyone without that mask of perfection you often don? The last time you felt safe just being yourself? You have no idea. All you know that is in the circle of Jaehyun’s arms, you want to be small and imperfect and yourself just this once.

After your cries die down, Jaehyun clears his throat. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I don’t know what it is I did, but I’m so sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s not you, Jaehyun,” your voice is muffled by both your sniffles and Jaehyun’s chest. You don’t want Jaehyun to get the wrong idea that he’s hurt you in some way because of how broken he sounds thinking he’s done something to make you sad. “It’s just. Me.”

“You? What do you mean?” Jaehyun leads you into your room from the doorway. He’s holding your hand and doesn’t let go even when you both settle at the edge of your bed. His palm is warm and his grip loose enough in case you want to let go; you don’t. While you muster up the courage to speak, your best friend just sits there, waiting patiently. “It’s okay, whatever you say, I’m not going anywhere.” You don’t know that for sure, but him saying that makes you want to be truthful just this once, damn the consequences.

You take a deep breath, focusing on your intertwined fingers. You’re too scared to look at his face because you don’t want to see his reaction. “Jaehyun, what kind of person do you think people see me as?”

“Well…” He takes a moment to think about it. “Someone smart, talented, and who gets stuff done?”

In turn, you let out an resigned exhale. “Well, that’s the image I project. Of someone who’s perfect… someone who does things effortlessly. People think it comes easy to me. But it doesn’t. When people tell me that I didn’t need much effort to get to where I am now, I feel undermined. When I express I’m having a hard time, people brush it off and think I’m just overreacting. Because they think I’m perfect all the time. But honestly…? That’s the farthest thing from the truth."

Glancing up from your hands, you scan your room—your desk is a mess of papers and assignments that you have yet to get to. You can’t tell when the last time you spent time being actually productive when what you’ve been is fatigued out of your mind. When you try to sit at your desk and work, all you feel is difficulty concentrating and processing work and readings. Sleep has also proven to be elusive—no matter how long you lie in bed, you never feel well-rested. Simple actions and decisions require so much energy from you that you undeniably lack. You also constantly compare yourself to others, whom things like these come natural to them. But you’ve kept these feelings of yours secret for a long time—you’re utterly terrified that you’d be undermined for being useless and overly sensitive.

“(Y/n)?” Jaehyun squeezes your hand, and you turn to meet his eyes. His eyes are sincere and kind. “I-I know I may not be the most empathic person, but I promise I’ll hear you out without judging you. I want to be here for you… and I hope you’ll let me. Please?”

At this, you spill everything you’ve been feeling the past weeks—months, even—to Jaehyun. You stumble over your words and your breath gets caught in your throat, but he’s there to pat your back and to encourage you to keep going. Without you knowing, tears make their way down your face once again, and Jaehyun uses his other hand to gently brush them away. “It just gets so hard that I want to just. Give everything up. I don’t know what the use of trying so hard is when I see how other people don’t need this much effort to do even the most basic of tasks. It’s just so… unfair.”

When you’re finished with your rant, you don’t know what to expect from Jaehyun—but you’re stunned to see him crying. He’s sniffling and wiping at his eyes furiously. “Why…” You have no idea what he’s about to say, but you brace yourself for the worst. “Why didn’t you tell me any of this?” he whispers brokenly. “I didn’t know you were having such a difficult time. I feel like such a shitty friend for not even noticing. I’m sorry, (y/n).” Jaehyun’s eyes fill with tears and he starts “I… I thought we were best friends.” The best friends tell each other everything goes unsaid, but you know exactly what he meant.

“I…” You feel awful now for making Jaehyun cry. “You’re just. You just naturally have all this limitless energy. You’re…” Normal. Not like me. “I don’t know how if you were going to take me seriously if I told you what I was going through… There were times I’d see you, and I’d be so disappointed in myself for not being like you. And I was so scared that if I did tell you, I’d be letting you down.”

Jaehyun’s expression grows more miserable at this. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n), I never meant to make you feel unheard. And I never meant for it to feel like you couldn’t tell me about these things.”

“It-It’s not your fault, Jaehyun,” you protest, but he shakes his head, obviously disappointed in himself.

“No, (y/n), I’m supposed to be your best friend. How stupid can I be if I can’t notice when you’re having a hard time? I didn’t even stop to ask how you’ve been doing because you seemed to be doing fine. But I should’ve known better. I shouldn’t have taken things at face value. I’m such an idiot,” Jaehyun berates himself. “I’m so, so sorry.”

At his sincere apology, you can’t help but admit it to yourself—you desperately needed Jaehyun’s support as your best friend, but you were too scared to ask for it. And honestly? You felt immensely lonely without his words and presence to comfort you.

“(Y/n), I hope you know that I see how hard you work. I know your sleepless nights and how much effort you put into every single thing you do. Despite everything you’re going through, you’re always trying to be better than the person you were yesterday, and it’s something I truly admire about you. But I hope you know it’s okay to be imperfect and flawed and to not be okay. I want to be here on your good and bad days. I just wish I could’ve been more vocal about this earlier… I’ve really taken you for granted, huh?” Jaehyun sighs wetly, taking your hand in both of his. He’s still crying; you both are, actually. What a silly pair the two of you make.

“Thank you for trusting me and sharing all of this. It literally means the world to me,” Jaehyun rambles. “I promise I’ll be a better friend to you, someone you feel safe opening up to about anything, whether that be your achievements or your struggles. And (y/n), if it’s not too much to ask… Could I ask you to be more honest with me in the future?” He stares at you imploringly. “I don’t want you to think you have to go through all of this alone. I want to be here for you the same way you’ve always been there for me… Okay?”

“....Okay. Okay, I’ll try,” you respond softly. “Thank you, Jaehyun. I… I’ve never told anyone about this before. But thank you so much for just listening, and not judging, and accepting me for me…” While you appreciate Jaehyun’s presence at this moment, a new wave of fatigue washes over you with all this emotional vulnerability and talking. “Jaehyun… I’m still feeling really tired, so I might go back to sleep. Sorry, I know you came all the way here to see me, but here I am being shit company,” you apologize regretfully.

“Oh! That’s okay. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Jaehyun stands up from your bed to leave. When your fingers slip from each other, you feel an acute loss of warmth—both in your hands and in your heart. He makes his way to the door, slipping on his shoes, and your heart sinks. There’s something you badly want to ask of Jaehyun, but you’re too much of a coward to tell him what you truly want. You don’t want to be on your own right now, but you’d probably be asking too much of him. Accepting your fate, you settle in bed, attempting to take a nap so restless you’re sure will be of no help to your exhaustion.

However, Jaehyun himself stops in the doorway. He turns back around, a distraught look on his face. “(Y/n)... I don’t want to assume, but are you sure you want to be alone right now?” he begins. “I mean, we just had this really heavy talk. Can… Can I keep you company? I promise I’m great at cuddles—that’s what all my other friends say anyway when I annoy them with my hugs.”

When you nod, that’s all it takes for Jaehyun to shuck off his shoes, strip his jacket, and climb into bed with you. With your ear against his steady heartbeat and his comforting arm around you, you’re asleep in no time. It’s the best you’ve ever slept in months.

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that-sarcastic-writer · 2 years ago

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Bandage To A Broken Heart (Simon 'Ghost' Riley)

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley X Fem Medic!!Reader

Summary: You're a medic assigned to the 141 task force, Ghost is particularly fond of you and after an injury, he comes straight to your door. This is in Ghosts point of view (still second person, just from his perspective)

Warnings: explicit content, minors dni, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, praise kink, size kink (mans 6'4 whaddya expect), choking, dirty talk, language, mentions of injuries, mentions of reader being much shorter than ghost and has tattoos, no other physically descriptions

WC: 7k I'm so sorry

A/N: FINALLY, ive been writing this fic for like 3 weeks now and I finally got to finish this and omggg, Im down so fucking bad for this man, so naturally I wrote filth for him. I hope my ghost girlies enjoy this

You can also read this over at Ao3

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Ghost was no stranger to pain. Not in the slightest. Pain was second nature to him. He had spent his entire life experiencing and learning to manage his pain to the point where he no longer felt it. But he'd be lying if he said that your touch didn't take away his pain better than he ever could himself.

Always so careful and gentle, and always willing to help anyone that walked into your infirmary and in the field. He couldn't understand how someone so sweet and caring could've ever ended up in the military, but then again after the things he had seen you do in the field, he'd be a fool to ever doubt your capabilities.

He was no stranger to you either, afterall, the 141 had become your main patients after you were assigned to their task force as their physician a year ago. And for one reason or another, Ghost always ended up at your infirmary, whether it was for an actual injury or to ask about your day under the excuse of needing some painkillers he probably didn't really need through grumbles and that particularly dry humor of his that always made your day. And truly, he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his day too.

Simon Riley was down bad for you, and he didn't know what to do about it.

He had lost track of time. He wasn't sure if it was from the crash or just the overall shit show that his latest mission had been, but everything was an absolute blur to him. All he knew is that there was only one thing he wanted to do and one thing only. He wanted to see you. No, he needed to see you.

Price had insisted Ghost joined the others at the infirmary, but he knew it wouldn't be you stitching up his wounds. After a very disastrous previous mission, you were left with pretty severe injuries yourself, ones that left you at your own infirmary for a few days. And while you assured them you were ready to go back to your duties, which included accompanying the 141 to their latest assignment, Price and Ghost himself insisted you sat this one out, and took a couple more days to fully recover. After a good fifteen minutes of protesting, you were outvoted. There were medics on base after all. But they weren't you, so naturally Ghost refused to go to the infirmary. He didn't trust anyone else but you. He'd rather bleed out, he said.

Price wasn't one to question anything Ghost did, he could take care of himself. And he knew you were the only one he trusted to take care of him.

Before he even realized it, Ghost was dragging himself to your quarters, unsure if you'd tell him to fuck off and to go to the infirmary instead, or if you'd honor the idea that he only trusted your hands to fix his wounds and take away his pain, for a little while at least. He was hoping it was the ladder.

He knocked, once, twice and a third time, and with a pained groan he leaned his body against the door, trying to take some weight off his sore legs. He waited, his mind racing and thinking that maybe you weren't at the infirmary for a reason, that maybe he should leave you alone and let you take some well deserved rest.

But he needed to see you, right now.

He lifted his head only a few inches to find you, for the first time not in your usual uniform, but instead a plain dark green tee that left the pattern of black and colored ink on your right arm on full display, and sleeping pants. But you didn't look like you had been asleep, you looked wide awake. Though that quickly turned into what Ghost thought was a mixture of worry and relief on your features. He knew because he had that same look when you woke up after he had carried your unconscious body to the medivac.

"Will you ever learn to take care of yourself out there?" Were the first words out of your mouth as you scanned his slouched body, taking particular notice to the hand glued to his right shoulder.

He let out a dry chuckle and the way in which his entire body relaxed, his shoulders dropped and was no longer on high alert the second he saw you was more than obvious. Whether or not you did notice that or not was beyond his people reading skills.

He didn't have to ask or say anything, you simply moved out of the way and walked back. He followed you in, his heavy but surprisingly quick steps following close behind you until you eventually came to a stop. He stopped, standing to his full height and his dark eyes were fixed on you as he waited for you to grab your medical supplies, which he knew you always kept around just in case.

"I can't check for injuries with all that gear Simon." You motioned your free hand to his tactical vest strapped with just about every weapon he could carry and most likely a bullet covered plate underneath his jacket.

He stood silent for a long second, just taking in the way you said his name. You only ever called him Simon in private, where you both knew you were safe from everyone else, where your protective armors could come down for once. He liked it when you called him Simon, it reminded him that he was still, in fact, a human being, that he was still Simon Riley, not just the ghost of a dead man that hid behind the mask of a killing machine.

He gave you a nod and his hand went towards the clips that kept his harness and vest together. Slowly, minding the throbbing pain in his shoulder, he dropped his vest on the floor, his black jacket quickly following the same fate. This, though, earned a groan of discomfort when his shoulder moved, he closed his eyes momentarily as he pulled the sleeve from his injured shoulder before dropping his jacket to the ground as well. All that was left was his clinging black shirt leaving the black ink of his arm on full display, and of course, his balaclava and the skull plate stitched to the thick fabric.

You were already gloved up by then, your tools already laid out on a desk behind Simon. So once he was free on his gear, you looked up at him, now seeing the trail of dry blood that ran down his right arm, starting at his shoulder. You stared at him for a few seconds as he stood there before you spoke.

"I can't stitch your shoulder if you're all the way up there Simon, sit down." You rolled your eyes, forcing out an exasperated sigh and exaggerated motion for him to sit down by your desk.

"It's not my fault you're all the way on the ground down there. Would it kill ya to grow a few?" He said with his usual lack of emotion, but under his mask, his lips tugged up just a tiny bit at the glare you gave him as he sat down in front of you, because even with him sitting down, he was still half a head taller than you.

"I'll remember that next time you come to my infirmary asking for pain killers after you get shot or stabbed again." You shot him a nasty glare, but you both knew you didn't mean that. "Speaking of getting shot, how did this happen?"

He hissed barely loud enough to be heard through his mask when he felt you lift the sleeve of his shirt and scrunched it up to his shoulder to reveal a gash from a bullet just above his bicep. You glanced at him, eyes meeting his own for a second in a silent apology before you turned your attention back to his wound.

"Bastard shot me at close range, bullet must've grazed through my jacket. Good thing he was a shit shot though." He answered, his eyes watching you as you cleaned the dried blood around the wound, more focused on you than any pain he could be feeling in that moment.

"Y'know, had you let me go on that mission I probably would have cleaned this up hours ago." You muttered, swiping the wet cotton around his skin, giving him a minute or two to breathe before actually cleaning the wound.

"Had you gone with us you would've probably ended in the infirmary for another week." He quickly shot back, his naturally gruffly and raspy voice turning just a bit more so at the idea of it and you could feel his shoulders tense under your fingers. "Better me than you, eh?"

"That's not funny." Your eyes flickered in his direction and you narrowed them at him, only to find his brown eyes staring deep into you, not once looking away. Until you swiped a soaked cotton over his wound and he exhaled deeply and unevenly, his eyes closing momentarily as he felt his skin throb and burn.

"I'm not laughing," He eventually responded in a quiet tone, eyes finally opening to meet yours once again.

"Do you ever?" You asked with a tiny smile, earning the typical dead eyed glare Ghost gave everyone that annoyed him.

"No."

You looked away from him, lips curved up into a smile as you covered his clean wound with a gauze, not really needing stitches. You weren't looking at him then, so you missed the way he looked at you, his head slightly tilted and his eyes hooded as he memorized every detail of your face. He always did this, just in case it was the last.

"Anything else hurts?" You asked after a minute, taking your gloves off and throwing them on the desk and leaned on your left foot, head tilted as you looked at him again.

"Mmm," He half pointed to the left side of his face, "I hit my face when the heli crashed. 'm afraid I did some irreparable damage to that side of my face."

You stared at him, you blinked a few times and your eyebrows furrowed with confusion at his request. He knew you were trying to understand his request, he was giving you permission to see his face. For the first time and you weren't sure if he was being serious or not.

"I can't, y'know, the mask," You pointed to the thick fabric covering his face, noticing the tear on the left side but you made no effort to actually look, let alone touch.

You stood still, hands glued to your side, itching to remove his mask yourself, but you were afraid, afraid to cross an irreversible boundary. He could see it, he could see the way your hands shook and your teeth nervously dug into your bottom lip. And he wasn't much better, he could feel his heart pound in his chest and his breath pick up. But he wasn't scared.

He trusted you.

Simon watched you intensely, brown eyes watching every detail on your face, every expression as he reached up to the front of his balaclava and with a deep exhale he pulled it off his head. Your lips parted and your eyes slightly widened. He could hear how your own breath picked up in an instant. But you weren't scared or disgusted, not at all. All he saw was awe.

You slowly licked your lips as you stepped closer, until you were standing over his knee with your parted legs. With a shuddered breath you leaned down, eyes lingering on his own before they flicked down to the cut on his left cheek. Your hand ghosted over his face, but didn't quite touch him, for some reason, this felt like another boundary you didn't want to push unless he said so.

He noticed your hesitation, and he didn't blame you. But he didn't need to say anything, he simply nodded.

He shuddered when he felt your soft fingers graze his skin and he momentarily closed his eyes, before opening them again to watch you bring a wet cotton to clean the dried blood on his face.

“What happened to your face?” You asked quietly after a long silence, brushing the cotton over the cut that appeared to be a couple inches long right across his cheekbone.

“Enemy missile, the heli crashed. I dunno how I got out of there. I blacked out and next thing I knew I was being dragged out of that heli by Soap.” He explained, the memories of it all still being too blurry to remember clearly. But he did remember one thing; the thoughts going through his head in that moment. “We lost a lot of good soldiers.”

“You’re lucky all you got out of that was a cut on your face and probably a concussion. You could’ve died.” Your throat nearly closed up then, your fingers stopping to rest on his face. You were both used to this idea of death, of going on an assignment and never coming back, but that didn’t make your heart ache any less.

He turned his head to look at you, his eyes searched for yours, but you weren’t looking at him, “Well I’m alive aren’t I?”

“Yeah, and you’re one lucky motherfucker for that,” Your voice was close to breaking, and your hands were shaking. Was that anger he heard in your voice? Or was it panic at the idea of him dying? “I could’ve helped, I just wish I had been there.”

His gaze turned hard and his jaw tightened, “I don’t.” His tone shifted, there was nothing lighthearted about it, he was being dead serious. And you actually looked at him this time, and you found his eyes. But you didn’t respond, you couldn’t, so you stayed silent as you gave yourself the time to actually take him in.

"So what's the diagnosis Doc, am I gonna make it?" The low timber of his voice startled you after a long minute or two, but not because it was loud, he barely raised his voice above a whisper, it startled you because you were so focused on taking in each and every one of his features, the unique shape of his nose, his sharp jaw, the three day stubble that scratched the pads of your fingers, his light eyelashes that contrasted the dark paint smeared over his eyes. You memorized all of them in case you never saw them again.

A small smile eventually tugged at your lips and you chuckled softly, nodding, "Looks like it, you'll have a scar though."

He chuckled, and this time, you could see the tiny curl of his lips when he did so, "I can live with that."

His lips fell back into a flat line and instead, his eyes locked onto yours for a long second and he could swear he could hear your heartbeat. Or maybe it was his own. He wasn’t sure, all he knew was that he was this close and he couldn’t stop the thoughts in his head.

Something was different. Something in the air felt different. The careful touches of your hands, they were different. And he felt different too.

He leaned in, stopping only when he heard you take a small breath. One of his hands rested on your hip then, and when you didn't tense or shoved him away, he pulled you closer with a tight grip

“Tell me to stop, right now.” His voice was low and quiet, but you heard him loud and clear. And you didn't want him to. He didn't want to either.

"Simon…"

He didn’t have to hear anything else, he heard all he needed to hear. The way his name fell from your tongue, the shakiness in your voice and the way you also leaned in, like your body was gravitating towards him. He knew.

His large hand found the back of your neck and he pulled you in, lips capturing yours into a kiss that left you without air. His other arm sneaked around your waist to pull you closer and forced you down on his thigh. You gasped softly at the sudden movement, but you welcomed it nonetheless and you threw your arms over his neck as his mouth covered yours. He took it slow, much to your surprise. For a man known for his brutality he was surprisingly gentle. He kissed you slowly, his tongue eventually slipped into your mouth, but it never felt messy or rushed. You honestly didn't know how long he held you like this, but eventually he let you go to breathe when he started to feel you panting.

"This okay?" He asked barely above a whisper, the raspy ring of his voice filling your ears in a way that made your thighs unconscious clench against his leg. Which he definitely felt, but he kept that to himself.

"Yeah, more than okay." You answered with a breathless laugh.

"Good."

Both of his hands were on your waist and he was on his feet in an instant. He completely forgot about the pain shooting through his arm when he hoisted you around his hips. It caught you off guard and you were wrapping your legs around his torso instinctively.

"Simon your arm—"

"I don't give a shit about my arm." He had his uninjured arm holding your thighs and he was looking at you with this look in his eyes you had never seen from him, but you liked it.

You leaned down, lips crashing against his own with an urgency that made him want to find the bed even quicker. He eventually figured it out and your back was hitting the mattress before you even realized it. He held himself above you, your legs still wrapped around his waist. His lips left yours and attached themselves to your neck. He wouldn't leave a mark knowing everyone would see it, but he still took his time finding that spot that made you squirm under him while his own hands were making work of exploring. He ran a cautious hand into your shirt, calloused fingers grazing your skin until he found your breast, and he squeezed. You shivered under his touch and an unconscious moan escaped your lips. He could himself twitch against the constraint of his denim jeans at the mere sound. Fuck, if that's what you sounded when he barely touched you, he could only imagine what you would sound like wrapped around him. And he wondered when was the last time someone touched you like this. Probably as long as him.

"When was the last time someone touched you like this?" His words caught your ear in a haze, it took you a minute to register them, but when you felt him pitch your covered nipple you answered.

"I don't—” You swallowed, blinking a few times as you tried to clear your foggy mind, “A long time, years I think." You eventually answered, eyes glued to the ceiling as you tried to keep your head straight.

He gave you a quiet hum, his hand moving down to your stomach, stopping at the waistband of your pants, and he lifted his head to look at you, "Did you ever think about me touching you like this?"

The way his words left his mouth, the raspiness in his accented voice and coated with arousal, it made your throat close up, and the way his intense and dark eyes were fixated on you didn't help either. You felt so small under this mountain of a man and his gaze, all you could do was nod.

"Words love, use 'em."

“Yes.”

A subtle smirk tugged his lips, the confirmation that you had wanted him as much as he had wanted you igniting a hunger and need that could only be satiated with one thing. You.

He lifted his head to capture your lips in a feverish kiss that was so rough it made you gasp into his mouth. You snaked a hand the back of his head, one that quickly took a hold of his messy short brown strands, a motion that didn’t go unnoticed by him. The growl that came from his throat was otherwise muffled by your lips, but what he did next, however, didn't go unnoticed either. His large hands found the collar of your shirt, and without hesitating, he tugged and ripped the fabric right in half. The moan that ripped from your throat at his manhandling was anything but subtle, and he swallowed it happily. He pulled back, tugging your bottom lip as he did so and his dark hungry eyes fixated on the newly exposed skin once he laid eyes on you. He took a hard swallow as his hands traveled to your chest and much like he had just done with your shirt, he ripped your bra open by the thin fabric that connected both cups.

“Fuck, look at you,” He breathed out, hands brushing over hardened nipples as he took in the sight of you in front of him, chest completely exposed, your hair loose and pooling around your head and arms now sprawled above your head, expectant and ready to do as he asked, “You’re absolutely perfect.”

“I could say the same about you,” You replied, breathless and reaching to tug at the hem of his own shirt with urgency. “Please Si.”

Fuck, how could he ever deny you anything? And more so when you ask him like that?

With a short nod, he moved his hands from your chest and grabbed the back of his shirt, quickly pulling it over his head. And fuck, the amount of gear this man wore definitely didn’t sell him short. His muscled chest was covered in various scars, ones you had seen, and others you hadn’t. And from his neck hung his dog tags, ones you had never ever seen him wear. Lord this man was going to be the death of you just as you were going to be his.

“Listen to me,” He said through a heavy breath, pulling you from your frenzied state for just a second, “If you want me to stop you tell me, no fancy words, tell me stop and I will. Is that understood?”

It took you a couple seconds to respond, your mind already foggy with the need to feel his touch, but you nodded at his words regardless, “Yes sir.”

Your hands found the back of his neck and you crashed your lips against his with a newly found urgency that made him groan into your mouth. His calloused hands found the waistband of your pants, and he tugged them down without hesitation. With a hard swallow you lifted your hips off the bed, allowing him to pull them down, your panties quickly following. He tossed them behind him somewhere to join his previously discarded vest and jacket.

He brushed a long finger through your folds, swallowing the choked out moan that came out of your mouth. You shuddered under him, your thighs unconsciously closing around his hand as he drew circles around the bundle of nerves. You didn’t even remember the last time you were touched by hands that weren’t you own, and fuck, his felt so much better already.

“No, no,” He tisked, pulling back to glance down at his hand practically disappearing between your thighs before he gave you a stern look, “Keep those legs open for me.”

You did as you were told, you shakily spread your legs apart, and you were rewarded with a thick finger dipping into your entrance with ease. He took a deep breath as he felt your walls clench around his finger and he could feel himself twitch in his pants, wondering just how you would feel around his cock instead.

With a hiss of pleasure, you threw your head back and your hips slightly lifted off the mattress as he filled you with two of his long fingers. He drew them in and out until he could feel you start to drip on the palm of his hand.

“Shit, shit, fuck.” Your lips fell open, silent cries leaving your mouth as he began to scissor you open with each snap of his wrist. It wasn't long before you could start to feel that delicious burn in the pit of your stomach.

His thumb eventually found your nub, he pressed it and rubbed circles around it as he buried his thick fingers to the knuckle each time. He could already feel it, the way your walls clenched around his fingers, your shuddering thighs, your hands fisting the sheets. His lips found the shell of your ear, and as he curled his fingers against your most sensitive spot he spoke.

“You’re doing so good,” He coaxed, his thumb pressing your clit with enough force to make you twitch and roll your eyes into the back of your head, “This what you need love?”

“Yes!”

“Yes what?” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep, his palm rutting against your clit. He could have you screaming anything he wanted and he knew it.

“Yes Lieutenant!”

“Good. Good girl.”

He knew you were close, he could feel it. He was slamming his fingers in and out of you, burying them knuckle deep and crooking them against your most sensitive spot over and over. Until you were nothing more than a shaking and whimpering mess, begging for release. And he was gladly going to give it to you.

“O-oh fuck. Fuck Simon please!”

He nearly lost it when he heard you scream his name, your voice shaky with pleasure, and your own body overwhelmed with pleasure. But if there was anything he had a lot of, it was self control. He had a mission to accomplish. And he wasn’t going to stop until he had you falling apart under his touch. Which happened soon enough. One of your hands flew to grip his wrist, the lewd sound of his palm slapping against your dripping core filling your ears in the most delicious way possible. And in a quick flash of a blinding heat, you tossed your head and buried your face in his shoulder, your toes lifting from the mattress and curled as your juices coated his hand.

“Goddamn,” He cursed under his breath, the sound of his name leaving your mouth in a quiet whimper filling his ears as his fingers slowed, but never quite left you, “My name sounds so good when you say it like that.”

You barely caught his words as he spoke under his breath, but you did, and all you could say in response was a high pitched hum as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes were still screwed shut and your legs were still shaking when his fingers left you. With a quiet hiss, your head fell to the side as you brought a hand to your burning face, trying to compose yourself.

“You still with me Doctor?” Simon spoke, amusement coating his tone. You chuckled softly and gave him a nod. “I need verbal confirmation love.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him because you knew he was teasing you, but you indulged him regardless. You turned your head in his direction and opened your eyes to find his own glued to your face of course.

“Solid copy Lieutenant.” You finally said with a small eye roll. He looked amused, and he nodded. But what caught your attention was the growing smirk on his face as his eyes eventually landed on his hand as he held it out of your eyesight. “What’s so funny?”

“This,” He brought his hand closer to your face, and even through your slightly blurry vision, you could see it glisten. You opened your eyes more and your jaw dropped, your face burning with embarrassment. With a low chuckle, he rubbed his fingers together and then spread his index and middle finger apart to show the extent of the wetness you had left on his hand.

“Oh my god.” You threw your hands over your face, effectively mortified, you weren’t sure why, but it made you feel pathetic. Simon, on the other hand, was quite pleased.

“Gettin’ shy are we?” His lips brushed against your ear, and you couldn’t help but shove him slightly.

Both of your hands eventually fell to his chest as your eyes found his brown ones, and the look he found behind those eyes of yours made him want to take you over and over until you were nothing but a shaking and whimpering mess.

“Lay down Simon.” You eventually said, both hands flat on his scar littered chest. He took a deep breath and he nodded slowly.

“Yes ma’am.”

He was on his back in an instant, eyes never leaving you as you threw a leg over his hips and sat just above his crotch. Your thighs burned with ache as they were stretched out over his massive body. His hands held your hips as he watched you through hooded eyes, very tempted to shove you down on his cock, but he let you take your time, this time.

“Let me ride you, please.” Your words were quiet, pleading and desperate, and they shot straight to his cock. He honestly didn’t know where this side of you came from, pleading and so eager to please him, but fuck he wanted to explore every inch of it. His fingers dug into your hips, but he remained still, only nodding.

“Permission granted.” He replied with a quiet hiss, his patience growing thin the longer he had you on top of him, your wetness coating his lower abdomen. “Go on.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. Your shaky hands fumbled with his belt, the buckle ratling a few times as you tried to undo it, the button of his denim jeans quickly following. He momentarily closed his eyes when your hands brushed against his clothed erection. He blew out an exhale through his nose as he lifted you up just enough to be able to pull himself from the confines of his boxers. He let out a long breathy groan as he freed himself, his cock slapping against his stomach. With a hard swallow, you held yourself above his cock, hands resting against his lower abdomen to brace yourself as he lined himself up at your entrance, coating himself in your slick.

He was expecting you to take your time, to take him slowly, so when you sank down on him, his length slipping inside a few inches before being met with resistance, he had to take a deep breath.

“Easy..” He coaxed, easing a hand up and down your stretched out thighs, watching closely the way your eyes closed and your face twisted with a mixture of slight pain and pleasure.

“Fuck you’re so big..” You blurted out between breaths. Simon opened his eyes in surprise at your remark, he knew he was significantly big, but he wasn’t expecting to hear you say it. But he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his cock twitch the slightest bit.

“You’re doing good. Slow.” He spoke lowly, guiding your hips little by little, hissing softly each time you took another inch of him, until you sat fully on him, and even then you couldn’t fit all of him. He allowed himself to close his eyes as you sat still, your hips only rolling ever so slightly as you adjusted to the massive size of him. “There ya go, atta girl.”

When he felt you were ready, he guided your hips up, lifting you off his cock inch by agonizing inch, his eyes stuck to where his cock left your soaked cunt, and when he was almost all the way out, he pushed your hips down without a warning. You let out a quiet cry, you dug your nails into his abs and your thighs tensed. His eyes shot up to your face with concern and he sat still, but you were quickly shaking your head.

“I’m okay Simon, please.” Your eyes found his and you nodded reassuringly, teeth digging into your bottom lip eagerly. He squeezed your hips and nodded.

You were rocking and rolling your hips, your walls clutching his length with a bit of resistance. And you could tell he was fighting the urge to thrust up each time you rolled your hips. But he stayed still, only his fingers dug into your hips, surely to leave bruises in the morning. His eyes were closed and he was muttering under his breath as you moved at your own pace. For now.

“Fuck, come on love,” He encouraged, voice restrained as you eventually moved with more ease. His words gave you a new found confidence, and with such, you lifted yourself up and sank back down on him, and again, and again, until your whimpers turned into moans. “That’s it. Fuck that’s it, take what you need.”

You’d be damned if you didn’t do as he said.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his chest as you bounced on his cock. His eyes moved from your face to where your bodies connected, he watched with glazed eyes as his cock disappeared inside your walls, only to appear again covered in your juices. He focused on it, the sound of his belt buckle clicking each time you bounced filling his ears.

“You’re taking my cock like a good girl, aren’t ya?” His words came out through breathy groans as he guided your hips again and his own hips involuntarily lifted every once in a while.

“Please Simon, more, I want more— Fuck—”

He had to take in the way you whined his name, the way you begged, it was so fucking intoxicating and he never wanted to stop hearing it.

“Yeah? You want more?”

You were nodding frantically, your movements only doing so much to give you what you both needed and he knew it.

He sat up, his chest now pressed against yours as he sneaked his tattooed arm behind your back, holding you upright as he thrusted upwards. He found a pace quick, and even faster and deeper than the one you had made yourself. He had you twitching and shaking in his grip as cries ripped from your throat in a matter of a minute or two. And you definitely weren’t complaining, his cock was pounding deeper, hitting that perfect spot better than you could ever get it there yourself.

“Yes! Fuck, Simon please, please don’t stop.” You were begging frantically, your hands landing on his back and your nails dragged across his scar littered back and shoulders. He took in the way you pleaded, the way you moaned, and took particular note of the squeal you gave when his thick cock hit your g-spot with ease. And he did so, over, and over, until all you could say was his name between cries.

“Yeah, like that?” Again, and again his cock brushed against the perfect spot. You couldn’t even hold yourself up anymore, your face was buried in his shoulder and tears slipped from your eyes.

“Yes!” You sobbed into his shoulder, your walls clenching around his cock in the same way you had around his fingers a little while before.

“Shit, come on, come on. Be a good girl and come for me.” He muttered, not once faltering his pace, only bringing you closer to the edge with each delicious drag of his cock. He slipped a hand into your hair, fingers fisting around the strand a as he pulled your head back, making sure you were looking at him, “Look at me, that’s it, keep those pretty eyes on me when you come.”

His name slipped from your tongue over and over as you came, somehow managing to keep your eyes open as your whole body shuddered violently. Tears slipped from your eyes as you sobbed his name and you brought your forehead to rest against his, one of your shaky hands resting on the back of his neck. The hand on your hair moved your face, and his fingers brushed against your cheek, catching your tears.

“Fuuuck, that’s fucking it. That’s my girl.” He groaned out as he fucked you through your orgasm.

He felt your wetness coat his cock even more, allowing him to slip just ever so deeply until he was nearly rutting against you, the patches of hair at the base of his cock brushing against your oversensitive clit. With a guttural groan, the hand on your face slipped to the base of your neck and he held it between his long fingers as he fucked into you with a new urgency, like he was chasing his own release. He fucked you like it too, his thrusts were sharper and shallow, and they faltered.

“Fuckin’ hell,” He muttered, droplets of sweats rolling from his forehead and mixing with the already messy grease paint covering his eyes. His forehead fell to your chest as held your neck in place, “I’m right there… Fuck I—”

He was about to pull himself out of you, but you slipped out from your drunkenly euphoric state for just a second to slam down on his cock until your hips met, hands on his shoulders as you sank down on him with enough force to slip a breathy moan from him.

“I have an IUD. I-I want you to, please.” You said shakily into his ear, your words barely coherent, but you knew what you meant, and he did too.

A low growl ripped from his throat as he gave you a few more thrusts before his hips faltered, his other hand found your ass and he held you down on his cock. His fingers squeezed your throat and a guttural moan left his lips as he spilled himself inside you.

“Bloody fuckin' Christ,” he panted into your chest, most likely smearing his war paint on your chest, but you honestly didn’t give a fuck. “You’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You gave him a weak hum, eyes closing as you tried to breathe once he let go of your neck. “I’m guessing your arm doesn’t hurt anymore?” You laughed weakly, brushing a hand under the gauze you had placed there earlier.

He lifted his head, brown eyes as intense as ever as he slightly tilted his head, “What arm?”

You shot him a playful glare and shook your head as you unwrapped yourself from him and with a long breath of exhaustion, landed on your back next to him, your mixed releases dripping down your thigh. He chuckled quietly to himself at the sight of his jeans, mixed releases pooling at the front of the denim. With a sigh, he tucked himself into his boxers, catching a glance of you, chest still glistening with sweat, hair messy and pooling above your head as you lied with closed eyes. He shook his head, about to stand up to find something to clean his mess with when you spoke.

“Simon?” His eyes found yours on him and he nodded, allowing you to continue. You bit your lip and sat up with a sharp exhale, your sore muscles already screaming at you for your reckless activities, “How long have we known each other?”

The question hit him unexpectedly, his eyebrows slightly furrowed but he answered quickly, not even having to think about it, “About three years.”

“Why did you take your mask off now?” You dared to ask, the curiosity of what suddenly changed eating you up.

His lips fell in a flat line, his eyes opening as he remembered that he had, in fact, taken his mask off, he had felt so comfortable that he had forgotten he wasn’t wearing it. He didn't answer right away, he sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes never leaving you as you watched him expectant. You brought the sheets up to your chest, bringing them with you as you moved closer to him, until your shoulder was touching his. You looked up at him, but you never rushed him, you simply waited patiently.

“When the heli crashed,” He began, “I knew I was going to die. And I was ready to die. And then I thought..” His lips fell in a flat line again as he turned his head to look at you. Your eyes were glossy, but you didn’t cry, you simply nodded for him to continue, “All I could think about in that moment is that I was going to leave this world when the only woman I had ever cared about didn’t even know what I looked like.”

Your lips fell open and your eyes widened with awe. He didn’t have to say the words, you knew what he meant.

“Simon…”

“Either of us could die at any moment, I realized that when I carried your unconscious body through that field, and I realized it when the heli crashed, didn’t make sense to pretend I don’t give a shit about you.”

Your hand found his face and you pulled him down into a deep kiss, one that said everything you both needed to say, everything you couldn’t say with words.

You were the remedy to all his injuries and the bandage to his damaged heart. You were all he needed and he’d be damned if he let that go.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon riley x f!reader #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

Adult Education Part 3 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jake visits Jessica during her office hours again, and he's left wanting her even more than before. But when he hears that there may be more to her than meets the eye, he has to decide if his feelings are worth the potential risk.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, swearing

Length: 3500 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

"What are you doing?"

Jake glanced up from the scientific journal which was open on the cafeteria table next to his tray of lunch.

"What does it look like I'm doing, Bradshaw? I'm reading."

"You're reading?"

"Yeah," Jake replied, smoothing out the glossy page as he rolled his eyes. "I know you were in a fraternity and all, but I still assumed you knew what reading was."

Bradley set his tray down on the opposite side of the table. "Joke's on you. I graduated with a 3.9 GPA."

Jake just snorted as he read the caption under the photo of an F/A-18 that had been taken on the deck of the USS Harry S. Truman. "And I had a perfect 4.0."

"Damn," Bradley remarked before biting into his sandwich.

"Yeah, I liked school," Jake muttered, turning the journal page. "I still like school."

"Is this because of my wife's coworker? Professor Reed?"

Jake met his eyes before looking back down at the notebook he'd been scribbling some questions in. It was only Wednesday. Jessica didn't have office hours until tomorrow. He was nearly finished reading the stack of journals she gave him from cover to cover, and he actually did have some questions for her. Real questions about what he read, not just whether or not he could get her phone number yet.

"Maybe," Jake replied cautiously. He had already looked up the cost of taking one of her night classes, but he wasn't about to admit to that. "I just like how smart she is. She wrote her thesis on military aircraft propulsion."

Bradley just laughed. "This has nothing to do with how she looks? Sugar told me she's hot."

Jake bristled a bit. "She is hot." He thought back to her mini lecture and how she seemed to be the only physics professor at the school who actually knew how to teach. Then he remembered how cute she was at Chippy's, talking about her subject of study with bright eyes and a smile.

"Yeah," Bradley said, breaking into his thoughts. "I know how you operate. Each one is hotter than the last."

Jake closed the journal and set the notebook on top of it. "Doesn't matter. She still didn't give me her number. Probably thinks I'm ridiculous." He excused himself with his tray and the journals.

And by Thursday evening, Jake thought he was pretty ridiculous, too. What was he doing here? He was really going back to her office hours with his notes on the articles like some pathetic puppy? Like he was actually a student with an assignment to turn in? But even though she didn't give him her number, she had invited him back when she wrote her office hours down.

When Jake started up his truck, he had every intention of turning right at the gatehouse and heading home. But he turned left toward the bay bridge instead.

--------------------------

"Dr. Reed. I need help. These problems are hard."

The actual audacity that these students had was just impressive. They came to her office hours and whined about how hard the coursework was. And they did it all the time.

"Physics is hard, Luca," Jessica replied, loosening her grip on her pencil so she didn't snap another one. "But it would be a lot easier if you attended all my lectures."

"Aww, come on, Dr. Reed," he moaned, sliding his notebook a little closer. "I had to go surfing on Tuesday. Hey, you should come next time. I'll give you lessons if you bump my grade up just a little bit."

"Luca."

"I was kidding," he mumbled, collecting his notebook and the packet of extra practice problems she had given him to work on. "See you next week."

"Bye, Luca," she replied, opening her office door for him. And then her heart started pounding as her eyes caught on the man who was leaning against the hallway wall opposite her door.

"Bye, Professor," Luca said before he set his skateboard down and pushed off with one foot. But Jessica was too distracted by Jake Seresin to remind Luca for the hundredth time that he wasn't allowed to skate in the academic buildings.

"Reedy," Jake said softly with a tentative smile. She was honestly shocked he was here on campus again. For the third time this week. Apparently he took her note about office hours seriously.

"Jake. I'm surprised to see you here."

He just shook his head slightly and said, "You really shouldn't be."

Her blood felt too hot in her veins as he pushed away from the wall. He was all chiseled jaw, green eyes and immaculate hair, and she was once again left wondering what the catch was. The khaki uniform was back, just like Monday night, and she wondered once again if he came here straight from work instead of stopping home.

"I'm here for your office hours," he added, taking a step closer to her. He was big and strong and a lot taller than her. And the way she just knew Jake would let her run her fingers along his pins just like she'd done with his patches was making her ears feel warm and fuzzy.

Well, this was embarrassing. She hadn't been gone for a guy this bad in over a year. Not since Brian Conley. But she couldn't even focus on anything else right now, because she was devoting all of her energy to trying to say something intelligent to Jake. Where were all of her quips and clever remarks? She must have left them at Chippy's on Monday night, because she hadn't heard from them since.

"Come on in," she told him, and she left the note on the small whiteboard in the hallway letting anyone else who might show up know that her office was occupied. "What can I do for you?"

She didn't mean for that sentence to sound so suggestive, but she noted the pink flush on Jake's cheeks as she closed her door and leaned back against it. He was close but not too close, and his eyes drifted down over her uninspired pantsuit in such an appreciative way that it made her feel like she was wearing a pretty cocktail dress. Or maybe even less than that.

"You could give me your phone number."

She smirked at his statement and at the soft Texas drawl. She went to A&M for four years. She could tell he was a homegrown Texas boy who had somehow ended up transplanted in southern California. Maybe a little out of his element, just like her. Maybe trying to forget and move on, just like her.

When her eyes drifted to what he was holding, she asked, "Did you read the article? In Propulsion Science?"

He glanced down at the stack of journals and the notebook in his big hand, and said, "I read them all. Cover to cover. I have some notes and a few questions."

When he glanced back up and met her eyes, she cocked her head to one side. "Seriously? You read all of them?"

"Yes," he replied immediately.

She walked past him, letting her fingers brush the back of his hand longingly. When she took her seat, he was leaning on the opposite side of her desk with both hands and looking down at her. He already asked for her phone number. Twice. It was a bold move, playing hard to get with a man as handsome as Jake. But the steady rise and fall of his chest and his softly parted lips while he gave her his full attention was addicting.

"Take a seat," she said softly. "Show me what you have."

He groaned quietly and pulled the other chair a bit closer, and Jessica soon found herself a little warm again. While he wasn't a PhD candidate, his notes on the journal articles were thoughtful and his questions were insightful.

"This journal of physical chemistry had the most interesting article on engine mechanics, but I must admit, I was a bit lost when they talked about the implementation of fuel combustion calculations," he said, holding out his notebook for her to take. "What's your opinion, Dr. Jessica?"

This was clearly a man who gave great consideration to his aircraft and what he did all day at work. And that was hot. He was smart, and he thought she was smart. And he wasn't afraid to acknowledge either of those things.

When she slowly stood, she could practically feel his eyes on her body. "It's my opinion that you should read this accompanying article." She turned toward her bookshelf and couldn't help but glance back at him over her shoulder. His gaze met hers right away, and she stumbled a bit in her high heels. She had to steady herself before she reached up to the top shelf on her tiptoes.

"Allow me," Jake said, and the soft scrape of his chair on the floor was followed by his warm body just inches behind hers. "Which one is it?"

She thought about sliding out of his way. She considered that he'd have an easier time reaching the correct journal if she wasn't also standing in front of the shelf, but she didn't move an inch. "One with a blue spine," she whispered as he reached up past her head and ran his fingers along the journals.

"One of these ones?" he asked, moving his fingers very slowly along the spines from left to right.

"Mmhmm," she hummed as his chest pressed against the back of her shoulder. He grabbed several journals with blue spines and gently took them down from the shelf and placed them in her hands. His voice was right there next to her ear.

"There you go, Reedy."

His big hand brushed her waist before he stepped away from her, and she turned to face him, ready to throw the journals across the room in favor of pulling him closer again. "But they're for you," she said, sounding a little bit out of breath.

Jake was rubbing the back of his neck now, cheeks flushed as he reached out to take them back. "Right." His voice was rough, and Jessica plopped back down into her seat with very little grace.

She cleared her throat twice before saying, "The one on the top of the stack has a great accompanying article that you should read. And if you really want to know about the calculations, I can show you sometime."

"I'll read all of them," he replied, eyes soft on her face as she awkwardly adjusted her glasses with the backs of her fingers.

"I do appreciate a man who reads in his spare time," she whispered. It looked like Jake was ready to jump out of the chair again, and she kind of wished he would. Because she was currently thinking about crawling across the desk and onto his lap, and letting herself touch all of his pins while she tasted his lips.

She jumped in her chair when there was a sharp knock on the door, and suddenly Jake looked even more flustered. "Come in!" she called out, but she couldn't seem to take her eyes off Jake.

"Dr. Reed,'' came a gratingly annoying voice from her doorway. It was Dr. Leeland, and he was looking between Jessica and Jake like something deviously untoward was going on in here. But that's what everything thought about her, she supposed.

"Dr. Leeland, how can I help?" she asked, smiling apologetically at Jake who was now rising out of his seat. Leeland was looking at him like he was trying to place who he was, and Jessica had to hide her smile. She kind of hoped he didn't recognize the man who called him out on his incorrect math during the mini lecture.

"Need help with my printer," he growled, and Jessica was on her feet now, walking around her desk.

"Sure," she replied as smoothly as she could with Jake standing right next to her. "I'll be right there."

She watched Leeland shuffle back out into the hallway before she looked up at Jake. "Damn," he whispered. "I thought maybe I'd be able to talk you into another three dollar beer and some peanuts."

She bit her lip and said, "He'll have me in there for at least an hour helping him, guaranteed. So maybe another time?"

"I'll be thinking about it all weekend, Jessica."

Then she reached up and ran her index finger along his name tag, tracing S E R E S I N before tapping his lieutenant insignia gently. And he just let her do it with the softest look in his eyes.

"Yeah. Me too."

---------------------------

On Saturday night at the Hard Deck, Jake was happy to see that Bradshaw and his wife were both there. He knew what kind of beer she liked, so he flagged down Penny at the bar and ordered one along with his own glass of bourbon. Then he sipped his drink as he walked over to her.

Jake smirked, because she never looked quite happy to see him, but she did accept the beer when he handed it to her. "Thanks," she told him, "but you're not usually this nice to me. What's up?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm.... nice."

She chuckled as Rooster walked back over to her after Nat kicked his ass at pool. "You're alright, Jake, but I'm not stupid. I know what you want."

"Sugar," Rooster whined. "You got another beer but didn't grab me one, too?"

"Jake got it for me," she said, pulling the bottle further away when he reached for it. "It's a bribe, but I want to hear him admit it."

She looked at Jake again with a knowing smile, and when she pressed the bottle to her lips, he said, "Fine. It's a bribe. I want you to tell me everything you know about Jessica Reed."

Bradley rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. "I'll be with Nat."

"So?" Jake said when they were alone again. "Will you tell me? Because that woman is driving me insane, and she won't even give me her phone number."

"Yikes. You can usually seal the deal right away," she said, glancing around the always crowded bar. "I can count like four women here who you've hooked up with."

Jake sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before he downed the rest of his bourbon. "Please?" he asked calmly.

She was quiet as she sipped her beer. "I actually don't know her very well," she said a little cautiously. "I eat lunch with her occasionally, because everyone else seems to avoid her. Especially everyone who works in the science departments."

This was puzzling to Jake. Jessica was the most interesting woman he'd met in a long time. She was even nice to Dr. Leeland when he asked her for help. He honestly couldn't imagine anyone wanting to avoid her on purpose. "You sure she's not just a bit of a loner by nature or something?"

But she just shrugged. "Come on, Sugar," Jake begged, using the name Rooster called her. "Be sweet, and just tell me what her deal is."

She laughed and said, "I like her just fine. I have no problem with her. But whether or not there is any truth behind them, Jessica is the subject of a lot of rumors."

"Rumors?" Jake's mind was immediately swirling. Jessica with her glasses and her high heels and nerdy journals and soft smiles. "What do you mean?"

"I try not to get involved, so I don't know too much. But something definitely went down between her and the head of the chemistry department. And I heard one of the other physics professors call her a slut behind her back."

Jake's grip tightened so hard and so fast on his empty glass, he was convinced he was going to break it. "She's fucking sweet," he growled. "And a damn better teacher than anyone else in her department. And nobody should be calling anyone a slut in a professional setting."

"I don't disagree with you," she said quickly. gently touching his hand. "But you asked. So I told you."

Jake nodded and said, "You're right. I asked. Thank you."

"Sure, Jake," she said softly, turning toward her husband. "And thanks for the beer."

He watched her walk into Rooster's welcome arms. He held her with a laugh while he juggled a pool cue, and Jake felt a pang of jealousy. He never used to mind being the one who was always single, but even he could admit that it would be nice to be around someone who was smart and funny and kind. And have them want to be around you.

By late Sunday morning, Jake decided he didn't actually care about any rumors where Jessica was concerned. He liked her. He could tell she liked him. He kept replaying the way her face looked as she traced his patches and pins with her gentle fingers.

He couldn't tell if she was playing coy or toying with him, but he would stand there all day long in her office and let her do anything she wanted to him as long as she was looking up at him with that outwardly needy expression. And he wanted to touch her back, run his hands along her hips and pull her close, but he still didn't even have her number.

But he did still have her San Diego State faculty profile open in his phone browser, and his thumb was hovering over her email address.

----------------------------

Jessica knew Monday morning was going to be a struggle. They always were. After a weekend of going out with friends and taking a luxurious Sunday afternoon nap, facing Brian for the weekly faculty meeting was going to be hell. But she got dressed, fixed her hair and put her glasses on. She made sure she was on time. She made sure there was nothing for anyone to complain about when it came to her.

And just like always, she was sitting off toward the back of the small auditorium alone, sipping some coffee and counting down the minutes until the clock hit 9:00 and she could go up to her office.

"Now, for those of you who are not on a tenure track yet," Brain Conley said, turning to glance at her, "make sure you pay close attention."

He was such an ass. Just such a handsome looking fucking asshole. Everyone knew that Dr. Nguyen and Jessica were the only two that statement applied to, and this was his first year out of grad school. He was like twenty four. But Jessica looked down the row of seats and smiled at Dr. Nguyen who smiled back while he blushed. And then she listened to Brian drone on and on about excellence in education and involvement on campus.

By the time she made it up to her office, her coffee had soured in her stomach, and she felt like crying. But she had an hour to pull herself together before she had to teach Physics 103 to a bunch of lazy sophomores. While her computer started up, she opened the newest journal that had been delivered to her mailbox on campus and smiled. Maybe there was something in here that Jake would be interested in. Not that she really expected him to keep stopping by. He would lose interest.

She skimmed the journal index, checking out the article topics as she logged into her school email account. And the newest email right up at the top was from jake.seresin. She pushed the journal aside and squealed as she opened it up, shocked that he had found a way to contact her again.

Dear Dr. Reed,

Thank you again for your excellent journal suggestions. I've read them all cover to cover, and I'm a little nervous to tell you that I think I've become a bit addicted to the subject matter. I find it fascinating to learn more about military aircrafts in general, but visiting your office hours has really piqued my interest in many other things as well.

I hope you don't mind that I plan on returning on Tuesday night. This time I'd like to try my hand at solving some of the physics equations with you. I'll bring a sharp pencil, but I'll probably skip the skateboard. You didn't seem too keen on that one, and I just find myself wanting you to be impressed by me.

Also, Jessica, this would be a lot easier over text, but I'll play along. For now. Looking forward to your office hours (and hopefully you are, too?).

Jake

P.S.- You should have seen how long it took me to actually type up this email. Your SDSU faculty photo has been continually distracting me for days, and I think I looked at it so long that my email timed out.

She screamed in delight. Jessica clapped her hands over her mouth, pushing her chair back from her desk, kicking her feet. She stared at the screen for a few seconds before she decided how she wanted to respond, and then she just went for it.

----------------------------

Dr. Jessica, we would all be kicking out feet, too! More than meets the eye with Jessica... Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 4

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zomtart · 2 months ago

Text

Chapter 1: Morphine and Lavender (Frank Castle x Fem Reader/OC)

okay this is terrifying but hi I am going to share some of my writing! this is just a snippet I wrote cause Frank is always on the brain. thank you tuna team for the encouragement <3

content warnings: hospital, canon-typical violence/gore, mentions of needles, language

word count: 1.1k

Frank was beginning to think they had left him in there to die when he heard a knock. A young woman opened the door with a huff, brushing her hair out of her face before giving Frank a curt nod.

“Alright, hi, sorry, I know I’m not your assigned nurse but everyone in my unit decided to take lunch at the same time, so you are stuck with me at the moment.” she mumbled, barely looking up at Frank as she wheeled her computer stand to his side. She stayed outside of the duct-taped line, but it didn’t seem to bother her much. In fact, she didn’t seem bothered at all. Frank’s eyebrows furrowed together as she pulled up his medical sheet, searching for his name.

“Okay, you are Mr…Castle?” she asked, the sound of her mouse clicking echoing in the small hospital room.

He blinked, dumbfounded. “...yes ma’am.”

She nodded, her relaxed (but rather exhausted) expression staying constant even as she said the name that was headlining every newspaper in New York.

“Mr. Castle, could you give me a pain rating on a scale of 1-10?”

He blinked again. He felt like he had fallen into some sort of alternate universe. His assigned nurse hadn’t talked to him in the few days he’d been here, much less give him treatment he’d give another patient. An innocent patient.

“Mr. Castle?” she repeated.

“Right--uh…five.” he said quietly.

At that, she raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down slowly. She eyed the numerous bruises, cuts, and scars he was no doubt covered in, and asked, “That your final answer?”

Something like a smile itched at his lips, but he forced it down. “...yes.”

She shrugged, typing something into her computer. “Alright, well at least the painkillers are doing something. I’ll make sure to get a refill for that--” she paused as she looked at the full IV bag of morphine, following the IV down to…the floor.

She grabbed at the IV, looking at the wire and then back to Frank. “Did you yank this out?”

“No, ma’am.”

“The fuck?” she murmured, before understanding seemed to dawn on her. The cuffs, the bright red line of tape, the bruises on his face. Frank waited for disgust, for her to become terrified, for her to spit in his face. Instead, she stubbornly set her jaw and walked back to her computer.

“Who the hell is your nurse?” she sounded furious, but it didn’t seem aimed at him.

Frank, through his confusion, could only shrug.

She rapidly typed at the keyboard, eyes running up and down the screen. Then she stopped scrolling, eyes narrowing. “Did he have blonde hair? Eagle tattoo on his forearm?”

Frank vaguely remembered the eyes of an eagle staring back at him as he faded in and out consciousness from the pain, a man with blonde hair sneering down at him. He nodded.

“...motherfucker.” she all but growled, and the sound turned into a jagged laugh. She threw her hands up. “Aaron. Of course it--god fucking…damnit--”

Frank felt he was obligated to ask, or maybe his curiosity got the best of him. “Ma’am, are you alright?”

She laughed humorlessly again, words tumbling out of her mouth. “Oh yeah. I’m just peachy. I haven’t slept in two days, haven’t been in my own bed in almost a week, and all because I need to take extra shifts. Why do I need to take extra shifts? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I decided to move to New York fucking City where an apartment room costs more than an arm and a leg! And just when I think--oh just when I think I’m gonna get that promotion? No. No, I lose it to Aaron, who won’t even do his goddamn job correctly!” she finished with a burst of gusto, before collapsing down into a chair.

She just sat there for a minute, face buried in her hands, and Frank wasn’t quite sure what to do besides give her the grace of silence.

The absence of noise was quickly interrupted by her pager going off, and she reluctantly held it up to her vision before sighing and putting it back at her hip. It seemed to snap her back into reality, and she stood up and smoothed down her hair.

“I’m…very sorry about that Mr…” she glanced up at the computer again. “...Castle. I’m--that was unprofessional, it has just been a…very long week.”

Frank’s eyebrows furrowed. “...you really don’t know who I am?”

She grabbed some gloves from the table and snapped them on. “Someone very humble, I see.”

That got him to laugh, a low rumble that made its way out of his throat. He…couldn’t remember the last time had laughed. It felt nice. Familiar, even after all this time.

She shook her head with a small smile, grabbing the IV and sterilizing it. “No, I do not. I’m not even sure what day it is, to be honest.”

He nodded, stretching out his arm for her and making a fist. “But you…I mean they told you…somethin’, right? A warning?”

“I vaguely recall being told to stay behind the red line besides when absolutely necessary, yes.” she said, readying the needle. “Small pinch.”

He stared, barely registering the sensation of the IV. “...so you…then why would you…?” he tried to find the answer in her face, but all he could see was concentration on her task.

“Why would I…?” she repeated, waiting for him to continue. With the IV in his arm she took her gloves off, typing something on her computer.

“...I don’t know, you’re just being awfully kind.”

She pursed her lips, a hand going to her hip. “I’m not being kind, I’m doing my job. I took an oath to help people, no matter who they were, and that’s what I’m doing. Simple as that.”

He grunted absentmindedly, his eyes flitting to the window. Ten stories down, New York raged on, lights flashing like fireworks. “Doesn’t seem simple.”

She shrugged. “It is to me.” she started wheeling out her computer. “I’ll be back to check on you in a couple hours. Hopefully that IV will help. If that dipshit comes in here again, you tell him about nurse malpractice. You have constitutional rights, even if you are off robbing banks or whatnot.”

With that, she was gone, the faint scent of lavender left in her wake.

Frank blinked. “...robbing banks,” he mumbled before closing his eyes, letting the numb embrace of morphine lull him to sleep.

#frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle x oc #the punisher #daredevil

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solomons-poison · 2 months ago

Text

Overworked

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: Uhhhh inspired by some history of burn out at work... >>; and just general issues with perfectionist ideas. Honestly, this has been in my drafts for nearly two years now. I was unhappy with how it sounded, but much like the message in this piece, I realized I need to be okay with less-than-perfect things. So cleaned it up a little bit and here you go. Written and edited on mobile so please excuse any formatting issues

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: GN reader, angst to fluff, general insecurities, crying, reader ignoring signs of sickness; Lucifer fluff, no established relationship but Lucifer is very soft on reader~

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 4652

You should have known something was coming on before it got this bad, but unfortunately, you had a bad habit of ignoring body signals, which was ultimately your downfall.

You'd been feeling... off, for the past couple of days. More exhausted than usual, decreased appetite, just generally run down. You often found yourself in a daze, losing concentration on anything that wasn't your work assignments. It didn't help that the coursework at R.A.D. was naturally more difficult for you as a human, dealing with school subjects you never dreamed of or would ever encounter in the human realm. It was also a busy time in the school year, with big exams coming up and the workload increasing in difficulty by the day, so you attributed your exhaustion to this and wrote it off. Of course, by the time you realized what was going on, it was too late. This was mistake #1.

You woke up in the morning to your blaring alarm, feeling tired and sluggish again, and noticed the missed alarms on your phone. Although you occasionally slept through one or two alarms, you almost never slept this late unless you wanted to. But you didn't have time to think about the reasons and rationale on why your body sought so much extra rest. Instead, you pushed yourself through your confusion and sleepiness to get dressed and head down for breakfast as quickly as possible, hoping Lucifer wouldn't punish you too harshly. Mistake #2.

As you started to leave your room, you couldn't help but shiver a little and quickly grabbed a cardigan to wear over your uniform. It wasn't unusual for the air to feel chilly in the Devildom, thanks to the lack of sunlight. However, the chill seemed to be bone-deep this morning, and something in you felt the cardigan was going to be no help. In general, everything in you was screaming to take a day off and rest, but one of your classes had a quiz later that day that you knew you couldn't miss. Once again, you found yourself pushing forward regardless of the glaring warning signs in your peripheral vision.

Mistake #3.

By the time you made it to the dining room, everyone was already seated, including Belphie, a true testament to just how much you overslept. Everyone turned to glance at you except Beel, who was more focused on his food as per usual. Part of your brain noticed Lucifer looking at you a moment longer than the others, but it was forgotten as the second born pointed his fork at you accusingly.

"Finally, human! I thought ya were gonna sleep all day, with your alarm goin' off like that," he said.

"Sorry, Mammon. I guess I must have been sleeping pretty deeply," you replied, smiling sheepishly. You knew he was mostly pulling your leg, but your phone alarms had a tendency to be on the loud side and felt guilty for disturbing any of the brothers with the noise. "I don't even remember going to bed either."

"I don't think that's unusual, I do that all the time," Belphie piped up from down the table, earning pointed looks from the others.

You didn't miss the way the eldest brother's eyes sneaked up to look at you upon hearing your statement, though, clearly studying your face.

"Are you feeling alright, MC? You do seem to look rather tired this morning," Lucifer commented, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

You knew the second you made eye contact you'd be doomed to an interrogation, so you barely spared a glance before training your gaze on your breakfast as you responded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm sure I just stayed up too long studying for this quiz I've got today." But even as you said the words, you knew something wasn't right, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you sat there.

You could feel it in the air that Lucifer was unsatisfied with that answer, but he remained silent and you continued on with your food.

By the time you'd finished your breakfast, only a few brothers remained in the dining room after your late arrival. Beel and Belphie were both there. But strangely enough, it was Lucifer still being there that really confused you, given his penchant for being early to everything. Unfortunately, your fatigue-addled brain simply couldn't put forth the effort to think hard about the reason. The chill from earlier had now settled deep in your bones, and everything about the situation was screaming "wrong!!".

Once again ignoring the strange phenomena, you stood to bring your dishes back to the kitchen, but you were hit almost instantly by a wave of dizziness and shivering, knees buckling and your vision turning dark as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a chair and stayed upright, but all three brothers were instantly on their feet. Lucifer got to you first, his gloved hand gripping your upper arm to steady you further.

"MC! Are you all right? What's wrong?" he questioned, voice rich with concern and a deep frown on his face. Beel and Belphie crowded around, watching you for any risk of falling.

You took a moment to breathe, cold sweat running down your back, fighting hard against the sensations running through your body, and worked up the strength to look up at the first born. "I'm OK. Sorry," you said, smiling shakily, but Lucifer's frown only deepened at your response. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"This is more than fatigue, MC. Are you certain you're not sick?"

You gathered the strength to stand a little taller. As you did, something in the back of your brain was yelling at you again that this was a mistake, to sit back down, to call out sick, rest, anything but go to class. But your stubbornness and anxiety won out, knowing that missing just the one class would really put you behind your studies, and you prided yourself on your ability to work hard on your own. You hadn't spent months of pushing yourself, working overtime and scouring textbook after textbook, to quit now from some measly sickness. Your brain just couldn't rationalize any other way around it.

"Really, Lucifer, I'm OK. You don't need to worry so much—" you managed to say, but as the last words left your mouth, your last bit of strength finally ran out, and a blanket of darkness came down on your vision as you lost consciousness.

“MC–!” “Hey!” Multiple voices called out as you passed out in front of them.

Beel caught your body as you fell back out of Lucifer's hold, and he quickly picked up your legs to hold onto your unconscious body. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin and a sad frown twisted his features.

"I think they have a fever," he said, holding you close to himself, and Belphie leaned in to take a closer look at your face.

Lucifer could feel his face fall at Beel's statement, but steeled himself quickly before either of his brothers could notice. However, all it would take is a closer look to see the worry evident in his dark ruby eyes. He sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as he quickly made up a plan to deal with this new development.

"Beel, could you bring MC up to their room?" Lucifer asked. "I'm going to contact Solomon for some medicine to help with their illness." Beel nodded and started to leave the dining room with you cradled in his arms, Belphie following close behind. However, just before they stepped through the doorway, Lucifer stopped them briefly. "And do not bring this up with the others. If anyone else hears MC is sick, they're all going to leave class to come here and MC needs to rest. I will tell them when it’s appropriate."

He could tell both younger brothers wanted to say something about that, but luckily, they simply nodded and continued on their way. Once he was alone, Lucifer took a moment to himself to stop and breathe, anxiety coursing through his veins at the situation. But he shook it off as best he could before sending a notice out to Solomon, and another notice to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos to alert about your absence. He would have time to fret later, but for now, he needed to focus on you and making sure that you were taken care of. The last thing he needed was to let something terrible happen to one of the human exchange students and possibly disappoint Lord Diavolo… at least, that's what he told himself. But really, he knew it was more than that. Pushing those thoughts away, he shook his head and moved onwards, focusing on the task at hand.

After sending his messages, he quickly gathered some basic supplies, washcloths and a bowl for water to make a cold compress, as well as an extra blanket, and brought them up to your room where Belphie and Beel were waiting. You'd been laid out on your bed covered by a light blanket, your face contorted in discomfort. Lucifer could feel his heart twist in his chest at your visible pain.

"I will take over from here, you can go now," he said, setting down his supplies and removing his cloak.

Belphie frowned, crossing his arms in frustration. "MC is sick, we're not going anywhere. Class can wait–" he started, but Lucifer cut him off with a glare.

"No, you are not staying here," Lucifer said definitively. "MC needs to rest, and they cannot do that with a crowd in the room. Solomon is on his way here with medicine and I will be taking care of them in the meantime."

Belphie practically bristled, the tension in the room almost palpable between the eldest and youngest brothers, but Beel placed a hand on Belphie's shoulder, attempting to calm him down.

"Look, I don't care if you don't attend class today," Lucifer continued, his stress levels exhausting him of energy to fight. "But I want MC to get the rest they need. Until Solomon arrives and we can contact a more knowledgeable physician on human illnesses, we don't know how sick they are. I will keep you updated if anything changes, but for now, you must leave."

Beel and Belphie were silent for a long minute, not breaking eye contact with Lucifer. Eventually, they relented, however, and Belphie sighed, turning away towards the door.

"Fine, we'll go. Come on, Beel," Belphie muttered, going out the door with one last glance to your sleeping form.

Beel started to follow, but turned to Lucifer at the last moment. “We can pick up some food for MC to help them feel better. Would that be okay?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the request before softening, knowing his brothers were simply worried about their precious human. He nodded, and Beel smiled happily. “Yes, that will be fine. I believe easy to eat foods will be best, something to make into a soup or broth. I’ll also ask Solomon for recommendations on human world foods.”

“Awesome, I’ll tell Belphie,” Beel replied, smiling back, and headed out the door.

Now that Lucifer was finally alone with you, he heaved a great sigh that was almost too loud for the sudden silence. He shed his coat, placing it over the chair at your desk, before rolling up his sleeves and removing his gloves. He retrieved some cool water from your bathroom and dipped the washcloth in, then took a seat beside your bed, wringing the washcloth before pressing it to your forehead.

The fever had caused a sweat to break out, and your face was twisted in pain even in your sleep. The sound of your labored breathing weighed heavily on Lucifer's mind. But the cooling effects of the washcloth seemed to alleviate your discomfort a little as your face relaxed, and seeing you a little more comfortable eased the ache in his heart. The weight that had been sitting on his shoulders ever since you fainted lifted a little, giving him the slightest bit of relief, and he turned around to refresh your washcloth.

“Mmm.. Lu..cifer…”

Lucifer’s ears perked up almost embarrassingly fast upon hearing you say his name, and his head whipped around to look at you. However, it was evidently just talking in your sleep as your eyes remained closed and your breathing was even. He reached over to pull the blanket up, tucking you in, and did his best to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Although you two weren't a couple, you still seemed to hold a special place in his heart alongside his brothers. You were family now, but even that word didn't seem sufficient for the way he felt. And seeing you so sick all of a sudden gave him a greater shock than he was prepared for. It was moments like this that he realized how truly mortal you were, that you didn’t recover from sickness the same way Lucifer and his brothers could.

He couldn’t even be sure of what you were sick with. For all he knew, he was overreacting and you were likely fine. But still, the fear of the unknown settled deep in his heart, unable to rest until he could get an answer. For now, all he could do was swallow down his worries and continue on with what he was doing, trying to ignore the desperate aching in his chest.

Half an hour passed before a knock resounded at your bedroom door, and Lucifer okayed entry without taking his eyes off of you. He was settled back in your chair, sleeves still rolled up in an unusual display of casualness, although his crossed arms betrayed his true feelings. Solomon quietly opened the door, peeking his head in before entering, a small satchel in his arms that clinked softly as he moved it. Barbatos had come with him and trailed through silently, letting Solomon take the lead.

“Wow, MC really is sick,” Solomon commented, seeing your quiet form tucked in on the bed. However, he wasn’t sure which to be more surprised by, the fact you had fallen ill like this or the sight of Lucifer dressed down, sitting at your bedside.

Lucifer sighed, moving his stiff form now to turn and look at your guests. “Yes, they were looking awful all during breakfast, and after getting up from their chair, they just fainted. I’m not sure what it is, but they have some kind of fever. I’ve been applying this compress but of course we don’t have any human world medicine here.”

Solomon nodded, setting down his satchel on the top of your desk. “I’ve brought a potion that will help bring down their fever for now,” he said, removing a carefully packaged vial filled with a fascinating colored liquid. “Unfortunately, I’m not a doctor so I can’t treat the root cause, but I’ll do my best until a physician can get here.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Lucifer said, nodding. He glanced at Barbatos, who was standing silently at the foot of your bed. “I didn’t expect you to come here, Barbatos. Did you need something?”

Barbatos only shook his head.

“No, when I received your message that MC was sick, I thought it best to bring some tea for them to drink," he replied, bringing forward a small tin. "Peppermint tea is supposed to provide some medicinal properties, such as relieving fever and nausea. Once MC is awake, perhaps they can drink it to help their symptoms. I've also called on the services of a doctor who is familiar with human health and illnesses, they should be arriving soon."

Lucifer accepted it, taking the tin and placing it on your bedside table. "Yes, that will be good, thank you," he said, prompting a small smile from the butler.

Lucifer reached over and gently shook your shoulders, feeling terrible for waking you but wanting to get the potion in your body already. “MC, can you hear me?” he said softly, and your face scrunched a little in response. “Solomon has brought some medicine to help your fever, you should try to take some.”

Solomon and Barbatos couldn't help glancing at each other at the demon's gentle tone.

"Lucifer..?" You mumbled, bleary eyes blinking several times as you struggled to wake up.

"Yes, it's me," he responded, heart fluttering again at the sound of your voice. "Do you remember what happened? You had passed out after breakfast."

"Oh. That's wild."

Lucifer couldn't help himself as his eyebrows shot up at your response, which was obviously the product of still being half-asleep. But it was a very you response, and he refrained from laughing. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cutoff as you suddenly gasped, shooting up from the bed.

"My quiz! What happened to my quiz?" you shouted, but the outburst was short-lived as the sudden change in elevation made you waver, your fatigued body not strong enough to handle this.

Lucifer caught your body as you started to fall backwards, and he gently eased you back onto your pillow. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Of all the things to think about now, a quiz was on your mind?

"You passed out in front of me and you're worried about a quiz?" he couldn't help but question. "Diavolo was made aware of what happened, you don't have to worry about your class. We're more concerned with your fever, we think you may be sick."

Solomon took the chance to step forward, grabbing the colorful vial he'd brought earlier.

"Here, MC, this potion should help you feel better for now. But we're trying to find you a doctor just to make sure everything is okay," he said, uncorking the vial. Despite your dubious look, you accepted and drank it down with his help before settling back down on the pillow. You could immediately feel the effects of the potion, already getting some relief from the fatigue in your body and the cold sweats plaguing you.

Barbatos also took the opportunity to speak up, stepping up to the end of your bed. “I’ve also brought you some peppermint tea leaves. Please let me know if you’d like me to brew some tea for you. The Young Lord is wishing for your speedy recovery.”

“Thanks, Solomon, that does make me feel a little better. And not right now, Barbatos, but that does sound really good, I appreciate it. Please tell Diavolo thank you for me, as well.” You closed your eyes for a moment, relaxing against your pillow, before opening them again and looking at the three people in your room. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone, I promise I’ll get better soon.”

Lucifer only shook his head at you, pulling up your blanket around your body and tucking you in.

“You can hardly blame us for worrying about you, you have left a strong impression on all of us. Just focus on resting for now, a physician should be coming by soon,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. The other two smiled back at you, as well, before Solomon said his goodbyes and left.

Barbatos stayed behind to wait, eventually making you the tea in the meantime and just involving you in some small talk to comfort you. Once the physician arrived, Barbatos and Lucifer both left to give you some privacy, nervously waiting outside your door for the results. Lucifer even settled on the ground against the wall, sleeves still rolled up and hair a mess, uncharacteristically ruffled.

Although you had seemed in better spirits after taking Solomon’s potion and resting, Lucifer still felt restless, waiting for your assessment to be finished. When he heard your door click open, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he shot to his feet, afraid for the worst. But the physician quickly assuaged his fears.

Despite the fever and the passing out, everything pointed to simple burnout, caused by you overworking yourself in an attempt to get ahead. You would need to wait out the remainder of the fever, taking medicine as needed to help it along. But overall, the most important thing you needed now was rest, and plenty of it. Thankfully, that would be easy enough to arrange.

Unfortunately, the answer was not a surprising one. Lucifer knew that, despite the offers from him and the other RAD council members, you often declined on any kind of assistance or tutoring with your work. His own sin prompted him to say it was pride that prevented you from accepting outside help. But he knew that in general, you felt it could be a weakness, especially being in an environment with those that still looked down on humans and were uncertain of your place in their society. Deeper than that, he also knew you considered yourself a burden, trying to reduce your presence whenever possible, leaving you to work twice as hard to complete the same tasks.

Sometimes he wished that you would rely on him a little more, come to him when you needed help or just a listening ear. But if anyone understood the need to maintain their pride, it was the the Avatar of Pride himself. Lucifer also knew he hadn’t always been the most supportive, memories of your new arrival and the way he treated you burned into his mind like a shameful brand, so he couldn’t blame you for keeping things to yourself. But maybe, after this whole episode was resolved and you were back to full health, things could be different.

He stepped into your room once the physician departed, and you were sitting up in bed, propped up by your pillows. You were already looking much better than earlier, and it eased his heart immensely. Lucifer didn’t even need to say anything, as your sheepish expression said it all, but he still wanted to make sure of something.

“I trust you understand what the doctor has told you about your condition and what to do now,” he said. He couldn’t help gravitating towards you, ending up at the side of your bed once more.

You nodded, squeezing your hands nervously in front of you.

“I know, I understand,” you said, your voice meek and rough from your exhaustion.

Honestly, the whole thing was embarrassing. You were just trying to keep up with your classmates, make sure you weren’t embarrassing the Prince of the Devildom or the Seven Avatars that were hosting you in their home. And for a while, it seemed to be working. Sure you felt a little tired, but at least your grades were exemplary. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy, or stay that easy.

As you recalled what happened up until you passed out, and bits and pieces of Lucifer caring for you afterwards came to mind, you found yourself unable to make eye contact. Your body felt hot again, but it wasn’t the fever this time. Not only did you end up passing out from your efforts, but it was Lucifer that took care of you in the end. It was mortifying, truly. But almost as if sensing your feelings, Lucifer sat at the edge of your bed, his still-uncovered hand moving to cover both of yours.

The touch surprised you, making you look up finally, but his next words were what truly took you off guard.

“I know that you feel you have to work hard to keep up with your studies,” Lucifer said, squeezing your hands gently. “And while we— Diavolo and I— appreciate your efforts, the whole point of you coming to the Devildom was not to get good grades. You are part of the exchange program, but you are also our guest. I know we have not always been as welcome as we should have been, but we hope that you can come to us when you feel that you’re struggling. At least, I hope that you can come to me, if you are struggling.”

You couldn’t help it as your eyes widened. A soft look you’d never noticed before filled Lucifer’s face, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. You’d seen a lot of expressions cross Lucifer’s face, but this was the rarest of all, and one you never expected to be aimed towards you.

This, combined with his words, was all too much for you at once. Suddenly, your vision was swimming and something wet was falling down one of your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Almost immediately, Lucifer’s smile dropped in panic, and through your tears, you could just barely make out his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words.

“Oh—” Damn it. Lucifer wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he told you how he felt, but it certainly wasn’t tears. He quickly reached up, brushing away your tears with his fingers, his touch awkward but achingly gentle. Of course, his touch only made you cry harder.

“I– I’m sorry, MC, it wasn’t my intention to make you cry,” he said, finally remembering a handkerchief he keeps in his vest, and patted your cheeks with it, trying desperately to slow your tears.

You struggled to calm yourself down, wanting to reassure the demon of any misunderstanding.

“I-it’s not that,” you said, involuntary gasps breaking up your words. “I just feel so stupid. Like I just keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again, no matter what. And now here I am, sick in bed and you’re having to take care of me, and you’re being so nice, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Nice” wasn’t a word often used to describe Lucifer, at least not anymore. And he could guess that it’s not a word you’d used to describe him in the past. It also hurt him to hear how you saw yourself and all your efforts. Although you came across as reckless and a little ridiculous at times, you were also genuine and a hard worker. Lucifer’s pride made it difficult for him to admit many things, but he genuinely came to appreciate the way you treated your studies, unlike some of his brothers. Even if your grades were poor, even if you struggled with the subjects, he simply admired your sincerity in everything you did, and that was enough to make him happy. He just wished that you could feel the same.

“I think you’re being generous by calling me nice. But you don’t need to do anything special, MC,” he said. Finally, your tears were starting to dry a little bit, easing his own aching heart. “We all appreciate your efforts, but we just want you to keep being yourself, more than anything. Keep reminding us that you are human, in the way only you can. Of course, if you can do that without worrying me sick, that would also be appreciated.”

The last part made you laugh, and you couldn’t help but sniffle as the crying finally ended.

“Okay.”

“And if you’re having trouble with a subject, many of us would be happy to help you. Satan does make an excellent tutor, and despite Belphie’s knack for sleeping in class, he often has a good grasp on the subjects as well.” Now that your eyes were dry, Lucifer put the damp handkerchief back in his pocket in order to use a hand to squeeze yours. His other hand brushed over your cheek, rubbing softly, soothingly.

You could only nod, more tears threatening to rip a sob from you if you opened your mouth again. But no more words were needed, getting to relax your impossible standards for once and finally feeling at peace knowing that there were others there to support you, including a certain red-eyed devil at your side.

As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💜 You can also support me by buying a coffee ☕️!

#lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #lucifer x mc #the minx can write ✍️

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peoniesnro · 3 months ago

Text

In Another Universe

#3. Perfect Strangers

Synopsis – When you are just another iteration of Park Jimin’s girlfriend in a different universe.

Park Jimin × Reader

Genre – parallel universe (duh)/ kind of fantasy/ strangers to ??/ SMUT/ maybe romance/ angst/ fluff /Infidelity

Warnings – Language/ Grinding- in public/ Alcohol consumption/ Infidelity/ Arousals/ Breast play?

Word count – 11k

a/n - 😩 I'm really sorry that there are around 11k words here. I swear, I'm trying to keep all the chapters unde 10k so nobody would get bored. I got carried away with this one and I'll try my best to keep the word count under 10k for future chapters.

Chapter Index

Previous - Next

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Nothing you did to take your life back to normal, worked. Even after two weeks, you are still where you started. No progress at all. Every time you sleep in your world, you wake up in Jimin’s. Every time you sleep in Jimin’s world, you wake up in yours. You tried everything you could. Tried your stupid theories you wrote on that paper. Still, it happens. Without a hitch. Like this morning. While you are lying in Jimin’s empty bed where he is nowhere in sight.

You are exhausted at this rate, to be honest. Two weeks of shifting between two worlds doesn’t do you any good after all. You find yourself awake all night on some days to finish your assignments. Just to miss your lectures while you are in another world. Or to miss your deadlines. It’s taking a toll on you.

Only thing that improved is you and Park Jimin. The more you are with him, the more you realize that he is bearable. No scratch that. He is good, in fact. Funny even. Not that you know anything about him yet. No, you don’t. Still have no idea how he affords this kind of place. Don’t know how old he is. His entire life is an unresolved mystery to you. The thing is that he never asked you about your life. You like it that way since your life is pathetic. So, you let him keep his privacy as well.

In the end, however, you don’t have to know someone like the back of your hand to enjoy their company. That’s what Jimin and you have been doing. You don’t know each other, yet banter like you do. You don’t have a single idea what kind of jokes would offend each other or hit a sore spot yet you throw insults like you do. It’s easier that way. Jimin is easy. You found yourself more than once in his kitchen, arguing over silly matters. Insulting him about his lack of a dick to praising him for his cooking skills. Found yourself teaching him how to make pancakes in just ten minutes. It ended up taking fifteen minutes, however. Found yourself learning more and more swear words to use against him when he pissed you off with his ridiculous insults.

On top of everything, you found your heart beating madly when he praised you sometimes. Blushing violently when he came just a little bit closer to you than normal. Found yourself staring at him, enthralled like he was a siren. Decided you are that much sexually deprived and you’ll go to a club soon with Key. Most importantly, after just two weeks, you find you can just casually enter his kitchen and throw a ‘morning Park’ at him wearily.

The good part is he does the same. “Morning Spring roll. Slept well?” Asks you while eating a sandwich, gaping at you across from the kitchen island. His hair sticking out weirdly. Funny, how neither of you care about your appearances.

And the name part is the only other thing that developed. He called you ‘Spring roll’, called you ‘Rollito’, called you ‘Little roll’, called you ‘Lil Roll’ and called you just ‘Lil’ all the time that you forgot your real name.

“That’s not my name Park.” You glare at him as you take seat. With a heavy sigh.

“And do I look like I care?” He shrugs nonchalantly. Speaks through his mouth full sandwich. You don’t reply to him, however. Instead, grab the paper you wrote your theories on. Are exhausted. You and Jimin have gone through this list more than hundreds of times now. Adding things on, scratching things off. All in vain. There’s one thing that you became certain, though. You can take some things with you between two worlds. Your phone as for an example. Your comforter. Jimin’s comforter. Couch blankets. Some silly little things but no beds no couches. Most importantly no humans. You have sneakily tried it with Key. Failed. And then with Jimin, which was quite awkward. Holding onto his hand and trying to sleep. Took so long to fall asleep that day. It was purely for experimental purposes. Eventually, it didn’t work either.

You find the pen next to the paper and start scratching your stupid theories one by one. Clicking your tongue. Exhaustion makes you annoyed. Annoyance makes you irritated.

“All of this is stupid. Wrong. Who came up with these stupid ideas?” You mutter through clenched teeth. Jimin’s snorting makes you even more irritated. You look at him. “It’s your stupid ideas.” You accuse him, pointing the pen at his face. “Mine?” Jimin gasps in disbelief. “Yes. And why the fuck won’t you ask anything from Liya?” The fact that he hasn’t asked anything from Liya makes your skin prickle.

“She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t remember anything. What do you want me to do? Just ask her if she’s been waking up in a strange world?” Jimin questions. Suddenly his playful expression wiped off. No longer snorting. It’s your fault. You started it.

“Yes.” You easily point out. “That’s what you should exactly do. Ask her where the hell she’s been for….” You stop your venting to start putting your fingers down in counting. “For like five days. How could you not ask her anything?” You get to your feet. Why are you mad at him? You’re so annoyed. Jimin sighs. His sandwich abandoned. “It’s not been five days. It’s few hours. Liya was here the moment you were gone. And if she remembered anything she would’ve already told me.” He looks pretty confident in that.

“Well, what if she doesn’t tell anything because she’s afraid you’ll think she is crazy or something. Just like you do?” You fold your arms under your breasts and raise your brows. Jimin doesn’t answer that question. You make your point in that. Shrug your shoulders. “In that case Jimin, this could be all about Liya you know? This could be on her. Not on me. And as long as you two don’t talk about it, this will keep happening and I’ll be waking up next to you. And fuck! I just want to live normally.” You turn around to leave. This is all because you are tired. Crumple the paper on your hand before tossing it in the garbage can. Ignore the way Jimin finally shouts after you as you leave.

“I want my life back as well you nag. Do you think I enjoy seeing your ugly face every morning.”

You don’t mention the fact that you and his girlfriend have the same face.

……………………………………………………………………................

Jimin watches as you leave. Ignoring his comeback as your hair tousles with each step. He doesn’t think you have an ugly face. Quite the opposite actually. Hell, you have the same face as his girlfriend. Isn’t that fucked up to say you’re ugly. That’s not what’s fucked up anyway. The way he just finds you adorable just because you are you is what’s so fucked up. That has nothing do with Liya. But everything to do with you.

You’ve learnt your lesson apparently. No longer wear skimpy pajamas nor do you wear tank tops. It’s oversized t-shirts and baggy sweats- that you nearly drown in- all the times now. And you wear a bra. Not that Jimin is a lecher, but he couldn’t help but notice it. How? Even he doesn’t know. He just noticed. And it makes perfect sense why you decided to wear clothes that cover every inch of your body.

He gets to his feet slowly. Doesn’t know what he is doing until he retrieves the crumpled piece of paper from the trash. You ruined it. Slowly tries to smooth it out. Groans. What the hell is wrong with him? You’re so right even though he never would want to admit it. He needs to talk about this with Liya. Honestly, he had thought about the possibility of this all being on Liya before you mentioned it. Simply can’t understand why he is hesitant.

In his defense, he tried to talk, at least for a certain extent. Tried to talk to her through the phone after he left you to sleep peacefully in your spring roll state. He had watched you for exactly fifteen minutes before receiving that call from his assistant. You would be furious if you ever knew. He just wanted to see you disappear, after all. Was just curious. But nothing had happened while he was there. Later when he called Liya and when she answered, Jimin knew you were gone. That’s when he had tried talking. Through the phone. It was a simple question. “Are you okay?” And Liya had blamed him for not waking her up in the morning. Ended up in another fight. Haven’t talked to each other since. How is he supposed to ask her anything then?

It's been so long since they’ve actually talked. It’s always fighting and yelling. In the end, the fight resolves itself. Neither he nor Liya would put the effort into mending anything. They both are simply busy. He is definitely busy. There are meetings piling up. He needs to leave for work. He has an empire to build. Then what the fuck is he doing staring into a crumpled paper. Then why the hell does he think, you’re in a bad mood because you’re hungry? Why does he care that you left without eating? He shouldn’t be thinking about that. If anything, he needs to think about a way to make you leave as soon as possible. His girlfriend is missing out on her life.

It's not even been that long since you’ve dropped into his life out of blue. Just two weeks and Jimin finds you this close to him. How weird?

He makes a sandwich anyway. Makes it while drowning in his own thoughts. About how he should not give two shits. Still, takes the plate with a sandwich to the lounge. Finds you on his couch. In a spring roll state, wrapped up in the couch blanket, sitting. Funny. Ridiculous. Adorable.

Jimin has to turn around to hide the amused grin that brakes out on his face the moment his eyes lands on you. He swears he was scowling deeply until he spotted you. Fixes his face into that same scowl before turns back. You are watching him curiously. Brows furrowed. Jimin holds the plate out for you.

“What is it?” You question as you sniff it, while he holds the plate in front of your face. Weird. You can’t take your hands out fast after all. “What do you think? It’s damn sandwich spring roll. Thought you acting like a pissed off momma bear because you’re hungry?” He shouldn’t have said that. But you’re beaming. Nod eagerly as you try to take your hands out from the blanket. Hell, does this mean he read you right? How? He doesn’t even know you. He lets you take the plate from him. “I’ll talk to Liya today.” States as he plops next to you. You only nod. Turn to him and smile. “Looks like you’ve been starving?” He gives up trying to hide his amused grin.

“Yes and no. I’m simply tired Jimin. I think I need to sleep properly. Find a steady sleeping schedule.” You stuff your mouth as you speak. “Huh, makes sense. But you’re happy to see a damn sandwich Lil” He watches you carefully. The way you are genuinely happy. It’s hard not to feel relaxed around you. You are easy. Makes him giddy in a strange way. He shouldn’t feel that way. But you make him feel that way. You roll your eyes.

“Don’t call me that, Park.” Mumble through a mouthful.

“And why not?” Why do you feel familiar. Is that because you’re Liya?

“Because I have a name. A real one.”

“That’s ugly.”

“Ugly is your dick! That is.” You grumble as he snorts.

You’re not Liya. Not at all.

……………………………………………………………..........................

“So, what you want is, for me. To pay. For you. To stay at a hotel room.” Jimin clarifies, pointing his finger at himself. His car idling. “Yeah, I mean, it’s that… it is the deal for today, right? We need to find out this portal or whatever isn’t your apartment.” You answer awkwardly. That was the deal you both agreed upon after all. Hence, your preparation to leave his apartment, this time in a good mood. Not running away but walking away. You’re in Liya’s clothes. Jimin gave them to you. Asked you to take anything from her extravagant walk-in closet. You didn’t do that, of course. You’re not really a thief. Just dirt poor comparing to Jimin and his girlfriend. You managed to find the least expensive looking clothes. Still, feel uneasy, however.

There’s an amused glint in Jimin’s eyes. Makes you embarrassed about your proposition. You don’t know how to make it work any other way though. “Do you have any other idea, Park?” You ask again when he doesn’t say anything. “No, but why would I have to pay?” He asks, pulling out the car from the parking lot. Finally. “Because, I don’t have money.” You point it out. Deeply embarrassed. Turn your head away from him. It’s not like you bring any money here. The only thing you keep in your hand is your mobile. Can’t live without it apparently. Should have brought some money though. It would have saved you from this humiliation.

“And is that my fault?” He asks again, now eyes full on the road as he pulls the car onto the road. You frown. Need to do something about his arrogant ass now. He is belittling you. “It’s not like I’m asking for you to buy me something. I’ll pay you back.” You raise your chin up. He snorts in reply. “Okay. Whatever. So, a room huh? You want to get into a room with me?” Jimin turns his head toward you. Only slightly. Averts his gaze back to the road.

It's your time to snort now. “You wish Park. You wish. I would rather jump into a lake than wanting to do anything, I mean literally anything, with you. And I can’t even swim. Do you get what I mean.” You raise your brow. Look at his side profile. He is in a suit. A fucking suit. White dress shirt underneath his black suit jacket. What you said now is a lie. Not completely but partially. You don’t want to do anything with him because he is taken. That would be such a bitch move. But if you ever met him in a different context. At a bar. At college. At anywhere else. Where he is single. Or a complete stranger who you don’t have access to intimate details. And nothing would be your fault. You would have jumped on his bones within a minute. Now though, you know he is taken by your alternate universe counterpart. A better version of you. All you can do is make his life miserable. Make sure his arrogant ass knows he isn’t that charming even though he is.

“You haven’t been to the paradise Lil. So, you run your mouth.” Jimin scoffs.

“What paradise though? If I could recall correctly, there’s a possibility that you have no dick, and even if you do it’s ugly, or could be teeny tiny.” You show your pinky finger to him. Jimin clicks his tongue.

“Yah! You want me to show you. Is that it?” He gives you an annoyed look.

“Show me what?” You’re clearly playing dumb here.

“My dick. You are very concerned about my dick Lil. You are very curious. I can sate your curiosity if you want.” He keeps glancing at you. Amused. You fake gag. “Eww... no thanks please.” Despite your insulting both of your lips are curving upwards. See, this is how it has been all these time. “You will thank me when I show you.” He halts the car at the red light. Gives you his full attention. You cover your ears with both of your palms. “Jesus Park. Let’s talk about something else can we.” You say, flustered. It was supposed to be a joke. An insult to him. But now you can’t help but imagine it. Wonder how he would look completely naked. Think it’s not fair since he has seen your boobs. You’ve seen him shirtless yes, but that’s not the same. Weird how you two act so normal. Joking about things you should be mortified to talk with a stranger.

Strangers. That’s who you are. Still strangers but have woken up next to each other. Have seen him in a nothing but a towel. Knows he has seen your body and your messy hair in the morning. Your puffy eyes and unpleasant yawns. But you’re strangers. It’s only been just two weeks. And you’re joking about his dick. Weird, aren’t you?

Jimin accelerates the car again. “Are you blushing Rollito?” He is teasing you. “No.” You mutter. But you know you’re blushing. Why are you blushing. “Yes, you totally are.” Jimin chuckles. You don’t answer him. Just make a face at him. He looks back at you. Gasps. Eyes wide. Adorable. “Wait are you imagining me naked?” Asks, practically thriving at you flustered state.

“NO… FUCK NO”

……………………………………………………………..........................

You can’t pay him back. Not unless you find a job here. They call the currency ‘KRW’. But the notes are something you have never seen before. It looks like a kindergartener’s art project gone wrong. They don’t look like actual, legal money. But they are. And you don’t have a single note in your possession. You gape at the golden card Jimin holds out to the receptionist. You guess it’s similar to a black card. You wait patiently as the woman at the reception desk check you in. A pleasant smile on her face. Her cherry lips stretched slightly. “Here you go Sir.” She gives a key card to Jimin, which he grabs somewhat awkwardly. You know how this seems. A couple checking into a hotel room. They might think millions of things about you. Not that you could correct their assumptions anyway. Hence, you say nothing when Jimin puts his hand on the small of your back. Guiding you towards the elevator.

You wanted to kick Jimin’s rich ass when he dragged your poor ass into this resort, which would take your entire college fees for just one night. When you said a hotel room you had meant a cheap motel room. Not this. You whine in complaint as you wait for the elevator to come down. “Don’t nag all the time lady. I’m not gonna leave you in some shady and shitty third-class motel room, that would get you either killed or sick.” Jimin hisses at your ear, making you scowl deeper. “Why would you care if I die or not?” You hiss at his ear in return. “We don’t know what will happen if you die here? I mean... what will happen to Liya?” He says normally, giving up on hissing like a cat. Of course, that’s the concern. Not that you expected him to care about you. Fuck Park Jimin!

The elevator door dings as it opens. Revealing two people inside who are about to get out. A man and a woman. You step away to make room for them to leave first when the man gasps loudly, making your head snap in his direction. At his face. He is gaping at you. “Jiminie.” He exclaims. Both yours and the unknown woman’s eyes dart to Jimin’s face.

“Oh, Fuck my life!” Jimin mutters under his breath as he turns around, showing his back to the stranger. You look back at the stranger. The woman does the same. He is staring at Jimin’s back. Mouth agape. You were about to clear your throat since it’s becoming awkward when the elevator door started to close again. The stranger breaks the stupor he was in as he steps out of the elevator promptly. Woman following him. Jimin turns back slowly to him again. “Tae.” He sighs heavily. Shows his hands in the pockets.

The man, as Jimin called Tae averts his gaze to you. “No fucking way man.” He says before looking at Jimin again. “Are you two fuckers getting a room? This early in the morning?” He checks his phone. Presumably the time. Shakes his head in amusement. “Aren’t you two like live in the same house?” Questions again, eyes jumping between you and Jimin.

Oh! He thinks you’re Liya. No surprise since her own boyfriend got mistaken.

You need to correct him, however. They clearly know each other. Jimin and Tae that is. You don’t want to cause any misunderstandings. You shake your head quickly to deny. A polite smile on your lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. But I’m-“ Your words turn into a yelp when Jimin’s hand slips around your shoulders. Tugs you to his body, so fast. Squeeze you so tight, that you nearly cried. “Yes, we are, but this is an emergency.” Jimin causally states, pulling you even closer. What? You turn your head to look at his face. It’s a weird angle but you can see him. You’re too close to him for your liking. He stares back at you. “Right?” Questions. Does he let this man, Tae or whoever, his friend believes you’re his girlfriend. “Huh?” You question back. Blinking at his face. Dumbfounded. He just raises his eyebrow.

You blink at Tae. About to open your mouth to answer when the woman next to him interrupts you. “Uh. Tae I’m getting late.” She softly mutters, giving a light bow to you and Jimin. Tae nods in understanding. “Oh yeah you should go.” Bends down to kiss her cheek. Oh, how sweet. “I’ll call you, okay?” Wishes her good- bye. She gives you a full bow this time before leave. Tae turns his attention back to you. Eyes precisely on you. Remind you that you need to answer him.

“Uh… yeah. An emergency that is.” You nod slightly. Unsure of what you’re doing. Tae chuckles softly while Jimin nods in approval. “Well, never expected to see you two” Tae points his finger between you and Jimin. “At a fucking hotel room. Especially, in the morning.” There’s a teasing tilt to his voice. “Thought you two were so damn busy to notice each other.” He pokes the inside of his cheek with the tip of his tongue. Teasing. Jimin keeps his hands on your shoulders but loosens his grip slightly. “Ha, very funny Tae. But if I was you, I would be more worried now instead of grinning like a stupid.” Jimin fake laughs. You miss the way he gestures you to Tae but clearly notice the way Tae suddenly freezes. Eyes on you. His smile falters. “Fuck.” He mumbles when Jimin lets out a victorious noise. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. Holy Fuck.” Tae keeps repeating like it is a mantra. You have no single clue about what’s happening right now. So, you look between them. Trying to figure out what on earth is happening. Jimin takes a while before he speaks again. “Don’t worry she won’t tell.” He says at last. Tae looks at you, surprised. Frowns at you. “Sh… She won’t?” Asks Jimin. “No, she won’t. Will you?” Jimin asks you.

Tell what? And to who?

You say you won’t anyway. “Thanks. Fuck I mean good. No, thanks.” Tae stutters, relief visibly washing over him. You simply nod. Hope he would just walk away. But of course, he doesn’t. “Um... wanna join me to breakfast? I’m supposed to meet Seoyeon.” Asks instead of giving you the privacy you want, like a normal person. Still slightly cautious. Feel like he is bribing you or something by inviting you to a breakfast. Give you an urge to narrow your eyes at him.

“Yah! Kim Taehyung” Jimin shouts, making flinch at the sound. His hand is still wrapped around you. “We have a damn meeting at 10 man. And you’re gonna go to breakfast dates?” He points an accusing finger at Tae, or Kim Taehyung as you now know. Taehyung opens his mouth in disbelief. Points an accusatory finger at Jimin too. “And you’re about to fuck your girlfriend. You accuse me? I will be able to attend the meeting no later than 10 minutes. And you’ll never even make it.” He looks at you while he shouts at Jimin. You feel heat rising to your face. Half due to his blunt words and half due to the embarrassment that so many people heard that. “And your girlfriend is fucking weird today and acts like she doesn’t know me.” It’s funny how Taehyung changes the subject so fast and is now gaping at you again.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. “I’m so sorry. It’s just my stomach hurts.” You excuse your rude behavior. What a stupid excuse. It feel like watching a foreign movie without subtitles. You don’t know him. How are you supposed to act like you know him? Taehyung gasps again. Dramatically, this time. Comes closer to Jimin and presses his point finger to Jimin’s chest. “Are you gonna fuck your girlfriend when her tummy hurts, you inconsiderate asshole?” He asks that with a real disbelief in his voice. You can’t help the snort that leaves you. Jimin grimaces at you first. Then at Taehyung. “No…. Okay guess what? Let me just get the refund.” Jimin lets you go. Already making it to the front desk.

……………………………………………………………..........................

When you asked Jimin why he let Taehyung believe that you’re Liya. Why accepted his invitation. Why Taehyung was worried you might say something. While you were on your way to this breakfast. Back in his car. Jimin sighed heavily. For first one. He had said that nobody, not even his best friend, is going to believe about this parallel world shit. For the second one. He had said that he really wants to be in that meeting and if he had walked inside to a room with you, he would have had to stay. Because he is very lucky to meet his best friend there. He couldn’t be able to leave you there (that would raise unnecessary suspicion) and no he won’t walk out within five minutes and give Taehyung a chance to roast him. About his man ego or something. Only taking five minutes shit. Whatever. For the third one. He had said ‘You’ll see’ and asked you to stay out of it.

Now you see why. Sitting in a breakfast spot. In a table for four. Jimin across from you. Taehyung next to him and a woman next to you. A woman who had lost her shit when she saw you enter this café with the two men. Had hugged the life out of you. Apparently is your best friend. Is Taehyungs girlfriend. And certainly not the woman you met few minutes prior.

Taehyung is fucking cheating on his girlfriend. You even fucking thought it was so sweet that he kissed her cheek. Fucking bastard! If a look could set fire, Taehyung would be ashes by now. That’s how hard you’re glaring at him. He, however, doesn’t even notice it. Is engaged in an interesting conversation slash argument with the server about why he would need five shots of espresso. Jimin notices you though. Amused. Eyes glinting. Asshole. You give him a look. Warning. Hard to burn his pretty face down when Seoyeon is animatedly saying something to you.

Taehyung interrupts her talking by gasping aloud. The server has already gone with your orders. Taehyung won’t get five shots in his espresso. “The fucking meeting is canceled.” Taehyung says to Jimin. Furrowing. “Says who?” Jimin demands, peering into Taehyung’s phone. “Says Jin.” Taehyung holds his phone up to Jimin’s face. “He can’t decide that.” Jimin snatches the phone away. “Yes, he can. He is the COO.” Taehyung casually shrugs. Is visibly happy that meeting got canceled. “It’s not canceled dude. It’s postponed. You know? That’s two different things.” Jimin gives the phone back. Nobody asks them why it got canceled. You and Seoyeon watch the two men start arguing over the difference between cancel and postpone.

What do they do for living? Jimin and Taehyung ? You’re pretending to be his girlfriend but don’t know what he is doing. This morning is going to be fun. You want it to end fast.

And it won’t be that easy. Not at all. It doesn’t matter in which universe you are in, universes work against you. Always.

“Listen, listen.” Seoyeon suddenly perks up in her seat, interrupting the two who’s been arguing. Takes a sip from her water. “So does this mean, you guys are free this morning?” She asks very hopefully when both men chants no in unison. You feel bad for her. Taehyung is busy. For his girlfriend. For the other woman, he is not. And you want to slap him. But Jimin is the one who is giving excuses. Saves his friends ass. You want to kick Jimin.

“Oh c’mon…. when did you two last went on a date?” Seoyeon is asking from you. You don’t know when Jimin and Liya went on a date for the last time. You feel dumb. Extremely dumb. So, you gape at Jimin’s face. “Uh... last night.” Jimin states nonchalantly. Shrugs his shoulders. You wonder if that’s true. “Don’t lie please. I know you were with Tae last night Jimin. You go with dates with him.” She points at Taehyung. “Not with her.” She points at you.

You need to be interactive. It’s stupid to sit here like you’re listening to a lecture. Need to play your role effectively. Just don’t know how. Clear your throat a bit. “Yeah. True.” You should have kept your mouth shut. Jimin gives you a look. Wrong answer. So, you open your mouth again. “I mean. Not true. We go on dates all the time. Very lovely actually. Very romantic. Hot. Uh huh.” You nod. Feel like you’re at a stage doing a presentation. In front of the whole college. “He is very good. At everything I mean. Definitely doesn’t have a small dick or something.” You should shut up. Everyone is staring at you, like you have two heads. But no one’s sheepish expressions would match the one on Jimin’s mortified one. You want to die. There’s an awkward silence. You think you need to leave when Taehyung snorts. Very unpleasant. But you’re beyond thankful. He starts laughing and you join him. Jimin chuckles awkwardly and Seoyeon join him.

You keep laughing. Even when Taehyung tries to stop, you start laughing so hard. That is contagious. Or Taehyung is either high or just nervous like you are. In the end, he joins you again. So, you laugh until the server comes. Put food on your plates. Seoyeon is so dumbfounded. Jimin on the other hand is visibly turning red at how hard he is trying not to join you. His fucking arrogant ass. It’s okay to let loose sometime. To laugh so hard. You wonder how he would look like when he does.

You finally calm down and start eating. Back to your silent self. Listening to the conversation flowing around. Nod here and there when someone asks something. Have no idea what they are talking about. Until Seoyeon pays her attention to you again. Asks something about an anniversary. Five year one. Your eyes goes wide. They’ve been together for five years. Jimin and Liya? You watch Jimin pokes his rice. He should be enthusiastic about this conversation, isn’t he? Yet, he looks like he is thinking about failing his exams. Ruminating. Taehyung nudges his hand. “What’s your plans?” He asks when Jimin locks his eyes with you. Jimin shrugs. “I... I don’t know. Maybe it’s a surprise. Stop being nosy you busybodies.” He glares at Taehyung first and then Seoyeon. Looks back at you. You raise your eyebrows at him. He mouths the word ‘what?’. You shake your head.

You don’t know Jimin. There is no way you can read him. But you do. He is lying.

……………………………………………………………..........................

Universes work against you. And universes work against Jimin as well. Maybe against Taehyung too. That’s how you find yourself in an upmarket shopping center. Seoyeon’s idea. Nobody liked it. But here you are. Wandering through expensive shopping items, from attire to perfume. Price tags make your mouth go dry and makes you feel so out of place. Hate it every time Seoyeon pick the most horrendous looking and expensive piece of clothing for you. Are running out of excuses at this rate.

I don’t like the color. Too revealing. Too covered. Too lacy. Too red… too pink… too…too…

That’s when Jimin grabs your hand and drags you away. Thanks, fuck. And now you can breathe. Just peacefully check the price tags and curse the shit out. You don’t care Jimin hearing. You’ve been talking about his dick like it’s about weather. He has seen you in your morning hair. Already knows you’re a broken college student. You’re good.

You stop at a jewelry counter. For no specific reason. Pair of earrings got your attention. They are just pretty. Looks like two rain drops. Crystal clear. You lean down slightly. Take a good look at it. It’s expensive. Not that you have any kind of money to buy anything anyway. Penniless. Even if you have, you can’t afford them.

“You want them?” Jimin’s sudden voice startles you that you straighten in light speed.

“What?” You turn your head to look at him. “I asked you if you want them?” He points his finger at the showcase. Your eyes goes wide. He wants to buy you them. Feel slightly touched at the generosity. And he ruins it. “I mean, I’ll think I helped a homeless person. Like buying food or something.” He further clarifies. Nods to himself. You hiss at him. Turn to face him properly. “I don’t want your charity gifts. I’m no homeless you asshole.” You grit your teeth. Don’t allow yourself to think properly. Let your leg work on its own when the tip of your (Liya’s) ankle boots kick his shin. Not so gentle though. Harsh. Harsh enough he yelps so loud. Curses that two staff women look at him mortified. Bends down to rub his leg. Hobbles a little. “Fucking hell lady. You’re fucking crazy.” Glares at you so hard. You smile sweetly at him. It wasn’t that intense. He is just dramatic.

“This is really boring park.” You change the subject. Ignore his grimace. Pat his head when he finally starts to straighten up. Ignore how he freezes as well. “Let’s do something fun.” Say excitedly.

……………………………………………………………..........................

Only Taehyung agreed to come here. Into a gaming arcade. After all, your fun differs from these people’s fun. You enjoy shopping. You do. But not in a mall where it requires you to sell your kidney to buy a bra. You enjoy clubbing. It’s still broad day light. This is the best idea that popped up to your mind. And Taehyung rooted for it. You don’t like him. He is a cheater. Still, can’t help but feel easy around him. He is fun to be. Doesn’t act like an aristocratic from renaissance. Seoyeon does. Jimin is holding back. Trying so hard to act arrogantly. He is pretending. Lying to himself. Is enjoying belittling you a little too much. Taehyungs better.

You’ve been dragging their asses from one game to another. Initially, it was only you and Taehyung who played. But now when you are at a whack-a-mole game board, Jimin is your opponent. Just because you called him a coward for not participating in anything. Too afraid to lose. And then of course, you bet you’ll defeat him. Silly actually. But fun. At least for you and Taehyung. Seoyeon looks like she saw a ghost. You’re getting too hyped up over a silly arcade game. It’s understandable why she looks embarrassed. Taehyung is on your side. Cheering for you. Jimin says something about Taehyung being a traitor as he gets rid of his suit jacket. Rolls the sleeves up. Unbuttons another button. Looks damn handsome. Stretches up his neck. Rolls the shoulders. Looks you dead in the eye.

You smirk. Do the same. With your jacket sleeves pushed up. Warm-up like he does. It’s a shared board. You have to hit the moles as much as you can. The person with the highest score wins. And in the end, loser has to do whatever the winner says. There aren’t no way you would lose.

You and Jimin both position yourself at the game board. Take the mallets. Taehyung whistles. You grab the mallet tight. Wait for the starting signal after timer goes off. Ready to hammer away the entire world. And when it finally beeps and the first mole pops up, you are the one who reaches it first. Victorious noise leaves your mouth. Feel cocky. Reach for your second poor mole head near the edge. Hit it with full force. Mallet lands on the edge. It’s not your fault the mallet slips from your hand. Swings back toward your face. Smacks you right on the nose. Makes you stumble back. A horrified yelp escapes your mouth as you clutch your nose with your both hands. Trying hard to keep your balance, when Jimin grabs you from your jacket, in light speed. Brings you to your feet back. Abandons the game entirely.

Holds you upright, on your feet for a moment. His own eyes wide. Waits few minutes until the shock subsides and all of you process what’s happened. Only then he tries to move your hands away from your face. Brows furrowing. Very concerned.

“Ow! Fuck I broke my nose.” You cry out in horror. Are convinced there is blood. Both Seoyeon and Taehyung gather around you. Mumbling things. Cursing. Jimin yanks your hand down. Holds on to them tightly as he examines your nose. “Your nose is fine.” He mutters. Peers at your eyes instead of nose. “It’s not broken.” Assures you again. Keep looking at your eyes. Makes you uneasy for some unexplainable reason. So, you look away. Try to free your hands from his vise grip. He doesn’t let you. Keep staring at your face. Amused. You don’t realize you’re pouting. Just trying to ignore his gaze when he softly chuckles. You snap your head toward him. He won’t dare to laugh at you when you nearly broke your nose. But he does.

“See, it’s a bad idea to betting against me. Universe is on my side.” Jimin says, while finally letting your hands go. Has a warmth in his voice despite his words. Slightly cups your cheek while smiling. You feel giddy. Oh, it’s bad. But you feel warm.

Taehyung snorts. Jimin glances at Taehyungs face. Takes his hand back. Then glances at you. He is already grinning from ear to ear. Bites his bottom lip. Tries so hard not to laugh. Fails. It erupts from his throat. Bursts out through his thick lips. And in a second he is crackling up. Laughing so hard, with Taehyung. Doubles down. Holds onto Taehyung for support.

You should feel mad. Annoyed. They are… he is laughing at your misery. But the thing is you’re watching him in awe. Mouth agape. So, that’s how he looks when he crackles up. He laughs with his whole body. Adorable. Mesmerizing. Breathtaking.

……………………………………………………………..........................

It has been long since Jimin felt this relaxed. Long since he laughed that hard. Over something silly, in that case. Still had felt so relieving. As if he had gone for therapy and got better after just one hour.

He keeps his eyes on your figure next to Taehyung. You insisted you and Taehyung will bring the order to the table. Ice cream orders to be precise.

“She is really weird today.” Seoyeon’s sound makes Jimin avert his gaze away from you.

“Huh?” He looks at her face for split second. Then his eyes are back on you. Watching the way you are rolling on your heels. Eyes wandering through the displayed menu.

“ Liya I mean. She is really weird today Jimin. Did something happen?” Seoyeon asks again. Makes Jimin reluctantly tear his eyes away from you. Again. Why does he feel reluctant? “What do you mean?” Oh, he knows what she meant. You’re doing a very terrible job pretending to be his girlfriend. It’s funny how you two are two versions of the same person yet are like sky and the earth.

Seoyeon gapes at Jimin. Blinks. As if she couldn’t believe Jimin. “It’s pretty obvious isn’t it? Why is she so energetic? Like, why is she wearing that? Why on the hell does she look like this is her first life and she was born yesterday?” Seoyeon gestures toward you. Jimin follows. He can’t help but grin. You sure do look like you were born yesterday. Makes sense because this isn’t your world. It’s all new to you. Not that he can tell that to Liya’s best friend.

“I think she is just in a good mood. That’s all.” He mumbles. Eyes never leaving you. “Gosh! Does that mean she was in a bad mood for all her life. That’s very sad.” Seoyeon pulls her phone out. Minds her own business. Leaves Jimin to gape at you to his heart’s extent.

How true Seoyeon is. Not the part Liya’s in a bad mood. No. She lives a normal life. In her own way. It’s simply she is not you. It’s not she isn’t energetic. She is very energetic. Not the way you are. He has no right to compare. He chose Liya after all. And when he did he knew what he gets and was just fine with it. Maybe liked it even. Then why does he feel this content around you. Why does he want this day to be long. Never end. He doesn’t want much. Just sit back and watch you bumbling around is just enough. It’s fun. Feels like living. Even though it’s so wrong he can’t help it. Maybe it’s just fine for one day. He will never get this chance again. No postponed meetings nor days out. With or without you.

He does things for fun. Of course he does. From high end clubs to just hanging around with Taehyung and others. But this is far better. Like he is back in college. Forever young. It’s fine for just a day. Besides it’s not like he’s doing something bad. Just hanging around. Nothing bad at all. Only bad things is that he finds you beautiful in your (Liya’s) corset dress. Knows you found something old. Least expensive. But you’re rocking it.

Jimin has always found you to be adorable. In your oversized clothes and messy updos. This morning though, he found you to be pretty. Pretty when you asked him if it was really fine to take the dress. Pretty when you pout without you knowing it. Pretty when you smile at Taehyung. When you bat your eye lashes at Taehyung. Probably finding your way to something. Makes Jimin feel a pang in his chest. A pang he can’t describe. Like longing. You and his best friend apparently are clicking. Of course you are. Liya never did. Nor does she ever will.

He finds you to be gorgeous when you bite on your lip to keep your pretty giggles inside. Gorgeous when you turn around and narrow your eyes at him. Why you do that? He has no idea. Makes him feel a little blue. For no reason.

This is really bad honestly. Really bad that he keeps starting at you. That he finds he can keep his gaze on you like you’re a starry night with millions of hidden secrets. Still, knowing that very well, Jimin can’t look away. He keeps his eyes on you until you get your orders. Until you turn around and walk back. Until you are back on the table and sitting down.

And if looking at you like that way was bad, Jimin thinks the way his heart stopped. The way his breathing got caught in his throat. Just because you quite innocently pressed your thigh to him. Is an unforgivable sin. Especially now when he can’t stop noticing your bare skin in your thigh. Skirt rides up. Did you always have such beautiful skin? Mouthwatering? Inviting? Makes his blood pumping in double speed?

Holy fuck he needs to stop. ……………………………………………………………..........................

You thought Jimin would take you back home after the mall. But the day ended up stretching. From the mall to an ice cream parlor. From there to a movie. From a movie to a restaurant. From there to a bar. And finally, into a club. Taehyung’s idea after all. You lost Seoyeon somewhere between the movie and restaurant. Said she had another fish to fry. You wanted to say no to the club. Taehyung is after all, a fucking manipulator in addition to a cheater. He finds his way. No matter what. That’s your observation after being with him for a day. Is a social butterfly, however.

Jimin excuses yourselves the moment you step inside the opulent club. Crowded, nonetheless. Surprisingly, Taehyung leaves you alone.

“Okay. Listen. So, since Tae doesn’t know what no means, you’ll have to keep pretending to be Liya in front of everyone got it?” He asks with frown between his black brows. You nod. “And that means, you should already know these people…” He starts again before you interrupt him. “Wait, wait, how am I supposed to know these people when I never met them.” You look around the club. “That’s why I’m trying to tell you everything beforehand. Listen carefully Spring Roll, I need you to do a good job here all right? Especially since normally Liya won’t come here.” He takes a look around as well. You want to ask why Liya wouldn’t come here but he is already speaking again.

“Okay you already know Taehyung; he is my best friend.” You interrupt his very serious ‘me’ speech. Once again. “Oh yeah, your cheating best friend.” You scoff. Jimin scowls. “That shouldn’t bother you. None of your business, Spring Roll” Jimin says, irritable tilt in his voice.

“I know. But that doesn't make it right.” You hiss. “And I know that too. But please stay out of it. Remember you’re not Liya. Taehyung or Seoyeon are not people you know and you’re not even from this world so none of your business.” He sighs as you glare at him. “Just let them handle their own problems. Even I keep my ass out of their issues.” He adds. And you nod again reluctantly. It’s true after all. You’re not part of their life. Have no right to poke your nose at others life. Or ass like Jimin says.

“Okay so back to the point.” Jimin starts again. “You’ll see Seokjin and Hoseok; Jin is the COO and Hobi is the CMO. I’ll make sure you know who is who okay?” He raises one of his eyebrows in question. “Who is Hobi?.” You ask instead of the okay he expects you to give. “I just told you. The CMO?” Jimin looks at you dumbfounded.

“Then who’s Hoseok?”

“What? Fuck that’s the same person. You know what? Just let’s go.” Jimin sighs. Takes your hand in his and turns to walk away. Surprises you slightly. You look at your hands. Connected. That’s not very necessary. He can just walk away and you can fallow. But this is probably him playing the part. The part where he is your boyfriend. Pretending. Makes your heart do that strange flips nonetheless. You don’t like it. Don’t like the way your tummy flutters.

He is just playing the part. Treats you the way he would treat Liya.

On that note, you need to rock that part too. “Wait. First thing first Park. I don’t know what COO or CM... is or what is what... and above all, I don’t know what you do.” You look at him hopefully. You can’t pretend to be his girlfriend when you don’t even know whether he is a part of an organized crime group. “What do you mean I do?” He asks back.

“What do you do for living Park? Kill people? Sell drugs, sell weapons…” You are about make a long list of illegal business’ when he stops you. “I sell games.” There’s a smirk on his face. Looks smug. “Co-owns the RUN. With Tae, Jin, and Hobi. It’s a gaming company and before you ask, I’m the CEO.” And with that he turns around and leaves. Drags you with him.

……………………………………………………………..........................

You learned who is who. Jin is the one with plump lips. And the very moment your eyes landed on him, you betrayed Park Jimin. Jin’s lips are the plumpest. And he looks godly. So does Hobi. You think he looks like a daisy. Makes others feel positive. Jimin has good-looking friends. All of them. You were apparently born on the wrong universe. That thought became certain when Hoseok drags three random people to your booth saying he knows one of them. Two men and a woman. The one Hobi knows introduces himself as Kim Namjoon. Works in a popular magazine.

“Ah yeah makes sense why Hobi knows you, marketing shit.” Jin exclaims as he drowns his second shot. Namjoon just nods and smiles. Has dimples. Turns toward the two people with him. “This is J.” He points the woman. She has purple hair. Daring. “Just J?” Taehyung perks up. “Yes just J.” She raises her brow at Taehyung, sitting next to you. Making herself at home. Jin is the one who chuckles. “And this is Jungkook” Namjoon turns toward the man next to him. Damn. Only if you’re not pretending to be Jimin’s girlfriend. “Hello.” The man names Jungkook smiles goofily. Eyes sparkling. You like him. Politely and shyly takes a seat next to Taehyung when he offers. Just like that, a circle is completed. Fortunately, nobody asks any personal questions from you. You’re safe. Jimin just sits next to you. Talking about some shitty business with Hoseok. J has chatted with you for a bit before abandoning you to join Jin. And just like that you’re just listening to other people talk. Sipping on a cocktail Jimin brought you and it actually tastes good.

That’s when J suddenly interjects. After murmuring something with Jungkook. “Hey” She takes your attention, with the rest of the people on the booth. “Are you a couple?” She gestures between you and Jimin. Jungkook elbows her ribcage. “They are not.” He hisses. “Wanna bet?” J looks at him with confidence. Jung Kook snorts. “No…. Not again kook, J? Don’t start.” Namjoon whines from next to Hoseok. Jung Kook and J, however, ignore his entire existence. “Yeah, how much?” Jungkook is full on the board. “10 000 fucking Won, they are a couple.” J is already holding her palm out for Jungkook. It’s really strange how they talk about you like you and Jimin aren’t here. You know Jimin thinks same by the way he is blinking at them. Jungkook turns to you. Watch you expectantly. So, does J.

Taehyung is the one who chuckles first. Pats Jungkook’s back with pity. “You just lost 10 000 won kook. Should have asked me first. Those two..” Points his finger at you and Jimin. “Are like practically married. And by married I mean can’t stand each other very well.” Smiles wickedly when Jimin asks him to fuck himself. “Let me finish Jiminie. But… still are together and that means one thing. You know what? They are for forever.” Says with a nod when Jungkook makes an adorable whine. “Knew it looser. Gimme my damn ten thousand.” J keeps holding her palm up when Jungkook reluctantly pulls his wallet.

You turn to look at Jimin at the same time he turns to look at you. He isn’t smiling. There’s not even a hint of a smile in his face. Is emotionless. Stony. Isn’t he supposed at least chuckle? Say something. Shouldn’t his face turn red. It’s exactly like the time when Seoyeon brought the anniversary up. Makes you confused. Not your place to think about it though. Everybody has their own problems. No difference for a CEO as well. You can’t ask him what’s the matter.

Gentle reminder, not your place.

So, you avert your gaze from his face. Clear your throat. “Sorry Kook. Shit happens.” It’s the first time you talk to him. And the whole table suddenly goes awfully quiet. Just as the words leave your mouth. You look at them confused. They do the same. Only people who don’t are Namjoon and J. You are about to ask ‘what’ when J speaks again. “Oh, he isn’t sad that he lost the bet. He always loses to me.” She shakes her head. Jungkook is shouting no but is rudely getting ignored. “He is sad that you’re taken.” She gestures to you with a tilt of her chin. Shows the money in her jeans pocket and turns to Jin again. Everybody else, however, are still gaping at you. Jungkook has turned into a deep scarlet. You’re pretty sure you don’t look any different. That’s really unexpected.

……………………………………………………………..........................

Table was pretty awkward for a moment. J was the one who eventually broke the tension. She changed the air back to fun. Chatter. Laughter. Jokes. You aren’t surprised when Jungkook moves his seat next to you. You smile at him.

“Hey. Is it okay if I…” He asks in a timid voice. Kind of voice that makes you want to coo. “Course, it’s okay.” You manage to say without a pout. Pat the empty seat next to you. Your entire attention is on him when you feel the hand on your knee. You visibly shudder as you take a look at Jimin’s hand. He squeezes your knee, making you look at him.

“What are you doing?” Jimin leans toward you. Whispers in your ear. Makes a shiver run through your body. Throat dry. Don’t like it. It’s bad that your body reacts to him that way. So, you scowl.

“What?” Whisper back. He looks at you for a moment. You absolutely hate how you can read him. He doesn’t want Jungkook to sit next to you. And that’s completely irrational. “What is it Jimin?” You pretend you don’t know what he meant. “Nothing.” Jimin finds an answer finally. Looks away but doesn’t take his hand away from your knee. You don’t like it. It feels like your skin burns where his hand is. In a good way. In a way that makes you want to squeeze your thighs together. Makes you distracted when you try to make small talk with Jungkook. Still, endure it anyway. Or not. Maybe you just like it. Love it even when he starts to rub soothing circles. Oh, fuck, this is not good.

“Jimin” You snap your head to him. Hiss in his ear. He hums noncommittally. Doesn’t even look at you. “What are you doing?” Burn holes in his gorgeous face.

“What do you mean?” Finally pays you his attention.

“Your hand Park. What are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer your question. Instead, gapes at your face like only now he realizes what he is doing. Blinks a few times. And retrieves his hand in light speed. Now it’s your turn to blink at his face stupidly. Did he do that by mistake then? Like the time he sucked on your tits. This all happens because you look exactly like his girlfriend. You know that. Very well. Then why do you feel so disappointed? Why do you feel annoyed. Why do you want him to say he just did what he wanted to did. Not a mistake at all. Why do you keep getting hot and bothered around him. The more you are with him. More you are getting closer to the insanity. Yes that’s it. You are going fucking crazy. And you haven’t even started drinking properly yet.

Jimin clears his throat. In an awkward manner. Gets up and asks everyone whether they need more drinks. Listens to each and every person’s drink carefully and disappears.

You watch him retrieve. Disappointment sinking in. Wave of sadness engulfing you. Worst part is that you shouldn’t feel sad or disappointed. Jimin is just Jimin. You don’t even know him. Just because you can mutter ‘morning Park’ every other day. Just because you can saunter around his house. Just because he calls you ‘Spring Roll’. And specifically because you feel your heart is about fly when he is close. It doesn’t mean it’s okay to be like that. Not when you know Liya exist. It’s so wrong to expect anything from Park Jimin. Wrong to feel the way you feel. Whatever it that you feel. It’s good he walked away.

You need to let that go. Enjoy this night since you are already here. So, you pay your attention back to Jungkook. Who’s on his phone now. Smiling to himself. He is fun to be with too. Just like Tae. Doesn’t cheat on anybody though. Is a third-year college student in business. You nearly screamed you’re in the second year, but you caught your tongue at the right time. And he calls you Noona. Stupid. You’re clearly younger than him. But you just let him. Because you’re supposed to be Liya.

“Who are you texting.” You annoyingly butt in to his personal business. Jungkook, however, beams when he looks at you. “No one. It’s a meme, here.” Shows his phone to you. You read it. See he has commented something under the meme. About to post it. His comment is more hilarious than the meme. That’s what got you snorting unpleasantly.

“Funny right?” Jungkook takes his phone back. Shows it inside his pocket back.

“You wanna dance Noona?” Asks suddenly. Again that’s really unexpected. You take your time. Look if Jimin is back. Around. Want to know if it’s fine. Don’t want to break the character. Then again it’s not that much of a deal. Just dancing. Pretty sure Liya would do the same.

“Sure, I would love to."

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It’s pretty fun on the dance floor. Shouting over blaring music. It helps to forget Jimin and his awfully addictive warm hand on your knee. Jungkook has charm. Makes you blush with his stupid compliments. Certainly knows how to dance. And how to take any woman with him for the night. Too bad you’re a responsible actress. Too bad you still think of stupid Park Jimin. Even when Jungkook turns you around. Presses you into his front. Snakes his hands around your waist toward your tummy. He doesn’t do anything more. You don’t know if you’re happy or disappointed at that. Turns you around again. Keeps talking to you. Smiles goofily whenever you say something.

You’re probably more than twenty minutes on the dance floor, in your ankle boots with heels. Laughing hard at something he says. Hands placed on his chests. His on your waist. Finally starting to enjoy the night for real. No warm hands and blonde hairs on your mind. That’s when another pair of hands suddenly snakes around you. From behind. You gasps first. Defense mechanism turns on immediately when you recognize the hands. Place on your waist. And like that your night is ruined again, just when you started to enjoy it. Those warm hands, which you were trying to forget so badly, are now on your waist. Blonde hair is tickling your cheek when he grabs you towards him. Jungkook peer at Jimin over your shoulder. Face void of emotions.

“Can I have my lady back Jungkook?” Jimin mumbles next to your ear. Your breath hitches. Heart skips a beat. Stomach flips. As Jimin’s breath grazes your ear. Jungkook smiles. Just doesn’t let you go. Carefully watches at Jimin, as if trying to make sure it’s really Jimin, not an imposter. Funny since you’re the imposter here. You feel Jimin’s grip tightening on your waist. After another second which feel like an eternity Jungkook takes his hands away from you. “Of course.” Says softly before leaving the dance floor. Disappearing through the crowd. Your heart has picked up its phase. It shouldn’t be. Jimin was playing the part. Referring to you as Liya. Then why he doesn’t let you go now.

You gasp when he pulls you back. Into his chest. Snakes his hands around you. Put his chin on your shoulder. You can feel his breath on your cheek. He holds you tight. Sways you into the music. Slow. Hands starting to rub circles on your tummy. Hides his face in the crook of your neck.

What’s happening? Why is he doing this? Why aren’t you stopping him?

You want to ask him what’s happening? Remind him that you are really not Liya. Correct it if there’s any misunderstandings. Is he drunk? To a point he would forget who you are. Your tongue is tied, however. No words leave your mouth when he sighs into your neck.

You shudder at the sensation of his breath tickling your throat. At the sensation of his nose nuzzling your neck. At the sensation of his hair grazing your cheek.

You need to ask him to stop. But you can’t. It simply feels too good. Makes your head spin. He isn’t doing anything really. Just rubbing your tummy and nuzzling your neck. And your legs are already buckling. Your breathing is getting quickened. Shortened. And you nearly moaned when he replaces his nose with his lips. Those fucking thick lips. Presses them on your neck. Softly. Feel lick a feather.

Fuck! He needs to stop.

Starts moving them across your sensitive skin at your neck. Not hard enough. Soft. So soft it’s painful. Moves his lips toward your jaw. Does the same thing he did to your neck. Leaves a groan at your ear. You close your eyes. Trying to make sense. This is so sudden. Confuse your poor brain. You were just fine when you last saw him right? At least he was fine. You were having a hard time with his hands a moment ago. To be honest, you were always having a hard time with him. Even the day you open your eyes next to him and thought he was a kidnapper. From the very beginning you found him attractive. It makes sense why your knees are buckling. What about him though?

He was fine. All the time. Only thing he did that you can count as you being more than mere strangers is giving you a nickname. He always bickered with you. Made fun of you. Just like this morning when he called you a pumpkin when you asked if you look okay, in this dress. He laughed at your misery when you thought you broke your nose. Then what changed? When it changed?

He is probably drunk. Thinks you are Liya. You are certainly not drunk. You need to ask him to stop.

He keeps his ministrations. Lips pressing softly onto your skin over and over again. From your jaw to neck again. Presses his lips onto your shoulder. Then back to neck. Jaw. Hands tightens around you. They travel upward on your body.

Ask him to stop.

You do nothing to stop.

If anything, you are pressing your body more into his. Completely unintentional. You’ve lost control. Jimin presses his body onto yours too. Grabs from your hips to press your ass onto his crotch. Oh, how it feel good. Your heart is about to leap away from your ribcage. You don’t mean to slowly grind. Unintentional. Involuntary. Jimin grunts. Encouragement. So, you do it harder. Grind your plump ass on his crotch harder.

This is so wrong.

Jimin does the same. Grind on your ass harder. Starts kissing your neck like someone pressed a speed up button on him. You can feel his hard on your ass. Makes you crazy. There’s an ache between your thighs. Can feel how your underwear is slowly getting soaked. Makes your clit throb. You can come like this, you’re positive. That’s how good it feels. His hands don’t help your pathetic situation either. Not when they are rubbing under your boobs. Your nipples ache. You want him to touch you. Touch your tits. Squeeze them. Play with them.

No. No this is wrong.

Good thing Jimin can read your mind. No need of words when his hands suddenly grabs your tits. Both tits. You moan this time. Can’t keep the sound inside. Encouragement. So, Jimin squeezes them. Hard. You moan again. He does that again. Keeps squeezing your tits. Keeps kissing your neck. And you pay him back with grinding hard against him. Eyes still closed. Jimin helps you. Grinds his hardened dick on your ass with a same kind of desperation. Breathes heavily in your ear. Still no words. No tongue on your skin either. You want him to do that too. Suck on your skin. Graze his tongue over. You don’t want to ask him for it, however. Just give him more access by turning your head to the side. Jimin can read mind. He certainly can. That’s how he knows to give you what you want. Your legs literally give up when his tongue slightly graze your shoulder. When his teeth join it. When he sucks in the same place.

You nearly moan his name when a sudden sound make you snap your eyes open. A very disgusted Seokjin coming into your blurry vision.

“Yah! Get a damn room you, disgusting animals.” Jin looks beyond disgust when he yells at you. Looks mortified. Starts saying something at double speed that doesn’t reach your ears. You’re coming to earth after all. The spell which has been cast on you finally lifting. Guess the same thing is happening to Jimin when he let you go immediately. Like you burns him. Pushes you away from his body. Jin disappears somewhere after rapping at you.

You slowly turn to Jimin. Heart still beating. Trying to calm down. Trying to forget the discomfort between your thighs. Afraid. Scared. Scared what he will tell. And he tells you the exact thing you don’t want to hear at all. “Sorry. I’m… fuck..sorry. It’s just that you look so…. Got me confused. I’m really sorry Lil.” He blows a breath out. Pushes his hand through his blonde locks. Steps back. His entire face is flushed. “Sorry. That won’t.... Doesn’t… uh... p... please…” Stutters. “Please just forget that happened huh?” Looks desperate. And you know why. He needs you to accept that. Accept the part he said he was confused. And you do. So, you stop him before he starts rambling again. Nod. “Yeah, I know.” You say. Jimin gapes at you. Needs some more reassurance apparently. This is not the best place to have serious conversation. You have to scream loudly to be heard over the blaring music. You do it anyway. “I know Jimin. I know what happened. I mean I look like your girlfriend, and you’re drunk. I am drunk. We are drunk Jimin. It’s okay. Nothing happened really. It’s because we are drunk.” You yells over the music. Jimin finally sighs in relief. Nods. “Thanks” He replies before turning around. Leaves you alone. In a dance floor.

What the fuck just happened?

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You sit in your booth. With J and Jungkook. You feel heavy. Both in your heart and body. Both in your mind and head. Have no idea how much you drank. The good thing is that J and Jungkook drank as much as you did. And now you are laughing and slurring your words badly. They are good. Really good. You don’t know where the rest of your friends are. It’s only you three on the booth for a while now. Gulping down shot after shot. You feel embarrassed about earlier. Of course, Jimin was drunk and thought you were Liya. But what’s your excuse.

You were drunk.

The truth is you weren’t. Tipsy? Yes. Drunk? No. If anything, you were drunk on Jimin. You’re sexually deprived. You need to get laid. That’s your excuse. You feel like crying. Are so glad J and Jungkook are here to keep you company. To make you laugh. Hell, you don’t even know them. They are just two strangers. Just like everyone else. Like Taehyung, Jin, and Hoseok are. Like Namjoon is. Like Park Jimin is. None of you know each other. You suspect they don’t know each other as well. But in the end, here you are. With two strangers. They are perfect.

The way they slurs. The way they makes you feel close.

The way you laughed so hard with everybody else in this same booth, just mere hours ago. The way Jin calls you out. Calls you animals. You, a mere stranger to him even though he doesn’t know that. The way Taehyung chose your side in the arcade. The way Jimin worried you broke your nose. Are all just perfect.

You don’t know how you are going to face Jimin again. That would be inevitable anyway. You’ll have to see him every other day. It will be so embarrassing when that happens. You’ll tell him that you were so drunk. Prefer if you can get it done at this moment. Hate that you can’t find him anywhere. You can’t find him.

You look around the club. Turn your drunken gaze back to Jungkook and J. They are apparently betting against each other again.

“Right Noona?” Jungkook asks you innocently. You don’t know what they’ve been talking about. You agree with Jungkook. Make J pout hard, drunkenly. Keep looking for Park Jimin. Think you’re just scared than embarrassed. About something you can’t explain. Sigh. This is fine. You can worry about it when you’re sober. For now you can bask in this drunkenness. Enjoy your night with strangers.

You all are bunch of strangers. But perfect. Jimin is the most perfect stranger amongst perfect strangers.

Perfect strangers. Thats who you are. All of you.

Just perfect strangers.

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