#and you study for your a-levels until you're 18

[hongism]

what lies beneath us. - c. san (m)

➼ genre; fluff, smut, slight angst for the first half but i make it better quickly promise ➼ pairing; san x afab!reader ➼ au; established relationship, college au ➼ warnings; explicit smut ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 6.4k

one busy semester is all it took for you and san to find yourselves struggling to find footing in the storm that is your relationship, yet rather than let go, he asked for one more week, one more day, one last chance to help get you back to shore

part of the ...and it's snowing collab.

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➼ smut warnings; unprotected sex, oral: m, vaginal fingering, praise, body worship, service-top san, san has some slightly submissive tendencies, coming inside

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You normally wouldn’t find yourself in Wooyoung’s apartment on a Tuesday morning, sitting at the bar counter beside his roommate with two mugs of coffee sitting on the granite between you, but you also haven’t had any leisure time to waste lately. It’s a miracle that Wooyoung is even up before ten o’clock, though that might be in part due to you pleading desperately over the phone to come over.

“Oh, you make her coffee but not me? The fuck is up with that, Hwa?” Speak of the devil, Wooyoung comes into the kitchen still rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“She’s a guest, you live here. And I had to wake you up because you slept through three alarms so my sympathy levels are close to zero right now.” Seonghwa flashes a faux shrug despite the heated glare he’s sent. Wooyoung lets out a huff but lets it go in favor of redirecting his attention to you.

“Right, well, what did you need to talk about so badly that it couldn’t wait until the afternoon?”

“San is coming over tonight, I couldn't do the afternoon,” you mumble.

“Is it about him then? Did something—” he waves a hand through the air like that’ll explain his thoughts, and when confusion shows on both your face and Seonghwa’s, he gives up “—did something happen between you guys?”

“It feels a bit awkward,” you admit over the rim of your coffee mug. Wooyoung scoffs at that, but Seonghwa is far more forgiving than your best friend in that he sends you a sympathetic grin. 

“Awkward?” he prompts, toying with his own drink. Wooyoung pushes away from the counter and turns to the coffee maker.

“I don't know. Yeah, awkward, a bit. I guess. Like we don't know what we're doing or how to be in a relationship anymore.”

The brutal semester you both just suffered has been the main factor in the wedge in your relationship. Weekends full of studying, ones that you spent together at the start of the semester when he would come to your place or vice versa so that you could be together even while working. Then, San started picking up more shifts at his part-time job, and you had to redirect your focus to a particularly important internship that required you to forgo those weekends in the blink of an eye. You did have two weekends free of school and work, but San had to rush home during one of those on account of his mother falling ill. The other one was shot by you falling ill with the worst cold you’ve known in all your years of living. San came by that Friday with your favorite chicken and beer, but you couldn’t bring yourself to risk getting him sick when you knew how important the semester was to him too. It didn’t keep him from coming by again Saturday and Sunday both, soup was delivered to your front door along with voice messages wishing you well throughout the night. Even your text conversations were fizzling into oblivion by the time finals rolled around, which only served to amplify your feelings of dread. 

“Has he been acting differently?” Wooyoung tunes back into the conversation, this time more serious with his tone. “Like, he's pulling away or something?” Wooyoung stands on a different footing in this conversation and knows things Seonghwa doesn't in terms of your relationship with San. He's been there for you since well before you started dating San, and you're certain that he'll be there for you if it were to end tomorrow, the next day, or years down the line. 

“It's gonna sound so childish and stupid but he hasn't been calling me nicknames since the semester ended.” You tuck your hands into your lap and shrink into yourself a little, feeling the hot burn of shame well up inside.

“That's not stupid at all, y/n,” Seonghwa reassures barely a second after you finish your train of thought. “That's not.”

“He's right. That's totally unlike San.”

“Not! Helping!”

“I'm just being honest?!”

“Look, y/n, I don't want you to start having doom thoughts or thinking the worst — that doesn't mean his feelings for you have changed.” You’re starting to think that you should’ve asked Seonghwa for advice from the start instead of Wooyoung. “Maybe he's feeling that awkwardness you are too, or maybe he's feeling insecure. The only way to know is to ask. Have an open and honest conversation about it.”

“But…” You glance past Seonghwa to look at Wooyoung's back. Without even needing to look back, he seems to feel the weight of your stare.

“You're scared that if you bring it up, the worst will happen and y'all will break up.”

“We've been dating for so long that I don't know what I would do if that happened. I don't know how to be single, no offense to either of you, but it's just that we've been together for so long now. I wouldn't know what to do with myself if it ended.”

“If…” Wooyoung bites his words back as though he's unsure of how they will come out. “I don't want this to sound harsh, but if all it takes for him to lose his feelings for you is one busy semester, then that's not someone I would want you to have a future with. I know it's not up to me and it's not my business, but I want you to value yourself more than you value your relationship with San.”

“I truly don't think he's lost his feelings for you, y/n,” Seonghwa cuts in again, hand darting out across the counter in your direction. “Woo is right; you should value yourself more than the relationship you're in, but that doesn't mean you can only have one of those things. They can coexist.”

“What if I’m fighting for something he doesn’t want any longer?” you inquire softly and under your breath.

“The spark isn’t gone, y/n, I’m certain of that much. Maybe you just… need to find a way to reignite it!” The coffee maker dings loudly behind Wooyoung. And like it’s turning on a lightbulb in Wooyoung’s head, his expression turns suddenly bright. “Why not do just that? It’s been half a decade, to be fair, so really you can’t be blamed if things feel a little stale. If you went and did things that made you fall for each other in the first place, wouldn’t that help a bit?”

“I hate to say it…”

“You always say that when I’m right!”

“Ignoring him, that does sound like a good plan, y/n.”

Despite the reassurance from both your best friend and someone you consider to be far more mature and wiser, it doesn’t fully quell the concerns settling in your gut.

It’s only been six days since you last saw San, though you would argue that it feels a lot more like six months given how absent you both have been from each other’s lives of late. While that isn’t particularly your fault or his wholly — it’s definitely a joint effort that’s kept you apart — it does make your skin itch with anxiety every time you think about seeing him again.

It’s all culminated into this moment right now, where you sit on the edge of your couch waiting for the doorbell to ring and announce his arrival. You want to see him, desperately so, you’ve missed him so incredibly much that you can hardly stand it. And yet — you’re rooted to the cushions riddled by anxieties. You tried to rid yourself of the lingering stress after leaving Wooyoung’s apartment by doing chores properly for the first time in months, going so far as to run to the grocery and restock some necessities as well. You hate to be the type of partner who cannot do anything alone without associating it with your partner, but San was on your mind throughout the day.

Will he feel the same as you even though the flame keeping your relationship alive has been inching closer and closer to nothingness? The two of you don’t fight, in fact, your friends like to say that things go a little too smoothly between you two, and while that’s true, they aren’t aware of what it looks like when you and San aren’t getting along. It looks the way this semester has, slow conversations that lead nowhere and less time spent in each other’s presence. You aren’t fighting right now, but you certainly aren’t all sunshine and rainbows. The weather mirrors your emotions — dim greys shrouded by white flurries of snow that have been falling since early afternoon.

You clench your fingers around the seam of the couch cushion. No part of you wants to play the part of the overbearing partner: if you’re too eager to see him, wouldn’t he find it off-putting? 

The doorbell rings.

It takes a moment for you to brace yourself for impact, standing and walking over to the door as slowly as you can manage without it seeming like a deliberate delay. The second you open the door, however, your worries melt away for a moment. 

San smiles so brightly like you’ve not gone a second without reveling in each other’s presence. The weather is clinging to his coat still even though he had to climb three flights of stairs to reach your door. The little snowflakes are beginning to melt into the fabric.

“May I come in?” The facade cracks a bit. It’s not like him to ask such things, but you choose not to hold it against him now.

“Yeah, yeah, I finally had time to clean the other day so everything’s — nice.” 

If your smile is strained, he says nothing about it, stepping over the threshold and into your apartment like it’s the first time he’s ever done so. He’s polite all the time, but now it makes those seeds of doubt sprout further because you’ve been together for five years now, what reason does he have to act like a stranger in your home? A home he’s been in time and time again, one he’s slept in, fucked you— 

“Do you want ramen or pizza?” You force the thoughts to come to a halt before your expression turns bitter.

“Let’s do ramen, I’ll cut up the vegetables for you.”

There’s an elephant in the room that it seems neither of you wants to address, and so you keep your mouth shut just the same as San with the thought of “maybe this awkwardness will pass after tonight”. You watch him remove his coat and hang it up on the door while still picking at your nails. He extends a hand to you, one you take eagerly, and you lace your fingers through the gaps between his. A bit like a well-oiled machine, you think, something that Wooyoung had noted about the two of you as far back as freshman year of college. San presses his lips to the top of your head. You lean into the touch ever so slightly. 

You share in a quiet synergy that carries you through the motions of preparing food, with no conversation exchanged aside from a “watch for the knife” and “careful, behind you” on occasion. You’re still trying to psyche yourself up to bring up what’s truly on your mind, so you aren’t sure that you’d be able to get any conversation out without it spiraling into insanity right off the bat. For the moment, for now, you want to simply drink in San’s presence. 

He hums as he opens a cabinet in search of bowls, but they aren’t there. 

“Oh, I—I moved the bowls to the other side.” Three months ago, your mind adds. It would do nothing but add salt to a blossoming wound. San stops dead in his tracks too. He seems to suffer the same crisis that you do right then. After a few seconds of mental buffering, he resumes his humming and shifts to the adjacent cabinet like the moment didn’t happen at all. 

You sit beside each other at the bar counter, atop the uncomfortable stools you’ve had for well over two years now, but it offers a weird comfort because it’s familiar, it’s something San knows, it’s something you share and have shared for years. 

“Thanks for the meal,” San says, still wearing a bitten-back smile. 

“Of course. Thank you for helping.” But the detrimental reality of not speaking to someone properly for a long while is that part of you forgets how to make conversation with them. There is nothing for you and San to “catch up on” seeing as you’ve been keeping each other updated on your lives through dry text conversations. “Um…” He’s eyeing you carefully now, and you could pass off the watering in your eyes as the spice of the food, but he would call your bluff in an instant. The funny thing about doubt is that once it’s taken root, it’ll keep growing back no matter how many times you chop at the stem.

“What’s wrong, y/n?”

“It’s just — I don’t — are we breaking up?”

San freezes halfway over his ramen, chopsticks nearly falling from his fingers as he rushes to put his noodles back down. Your shoulders start shaking before you can stop it. He doesn’t stop you from turning away from him, but San has always been endlessly patient and gentle with you so you don’t expect him to ask you to look at him anyway. He does rest a hand atop your forearm though, and his thumb drags small, comforting circles over your skin. 

“Talk to me, y/n, what do you mean by that? Why would we be breaking up?” The words themselves sound calm. There’s a slight quiver to his tone, however, that makes you want to crawl inside yourself and disappear. “A-Are you wanting that?” Your continued lack of response makes San more urgent than ever, and he shifts his hand to your leg, spinning you to face him. You can’t be certain of the expression on your face (though you’d wager there is some degree of hurt); whatever San sees makes him let out a distressed noise from the back of his throat. “Come here, duck, talk to me.”

Standing on somewhat shaky legs, you push yourself closer to San, and he instinctually moves his knees apart to let you tuck yourself into the space there.

“Don’t cry, baby, I’m here, you can talk to me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your face in his hands. You reach down to cling to his shirt like it’s a lifeline. 

“That’s the first time you’ve called me that in weeks. This is the first time we’ve spent time together in six days. We’ve barely spoken or spent time together all semester, and I know why — I know we agreed that school and work have to come first. I know that.” Your voice drops to a whisper as you lose the confidence to speak. “I didn’t think it would mean losing you though.”

“You haven’t lost me, y/n. I’m still here, with you, loving you just as much as ever.” San smiles a little as you push your cheek further into his palm. “My feelings have not changed. I thought about you every day, wondered how you were doing, and if you responded to my texts late, I hoped you were eating well and getting enough rest. I listened to your voice memos rooting for me every night. Your face was always the first thing I saw in the morning because I still keep that slideshow of you as my lockscreen.” Reaching around to the back of your neck, he gives you a little tug, and your foreheads bump together. “The thought of you helped get me through the semester because I knew that it was you who was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel.”

“Sannie…”

“How long have you been worried over this, baby? You should’ve come to me the moment you started having doubts. I wouldn’t have let this go on if I had known.”

“I thought I felt you pulling away so I was scared to bring it up. You weren’t calling me nicknames anymore, and I started reading into it too much and freaked myself out.”

“I’m so sorry, y/n. Don’t put the blame on yourself, it’s not a crime to have anxieties. I didn’t even realize I stopped using them. I suppose I just got swept up in my own feelings and wanted to call you by your name as much as possible.” He nudges you with his head again. “Because I missed you so dearly.” Your lips turn up at the corners, a gesture that doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend. “And because I adore you so so much, my y/n.”

“Stop that.” You hope he doesn’t, truly.

“But I’m so mushy and full of love for you, y/n.”

“You’re gonna make me blush.”

“Oh, I can think of other ways to do that, baby.” San stands, subsequently pushing his body into yours, but your hands are still on each other, his moving down to caress the back of your thigh before he hooks his fingers around the bend of your knee and hoists your leg up over his hip. “I haven’t been good to you, my sweet,” he murmurs close to your lips. “What kind of boyfriend am I if I let you feel unwanted?” Your heart skips a beat as he grips tight at your other leg, then you’re suddenly weightless for a second as he hoists you up to his waist.

“We just ate—”

“I don’t plan on letting that stop me.” You let out a gasp as San traces the line of your jaw with his lips, hot breath spilling across your skin as he carries you from the kitchen. “Unless you want it to?” This damned man knows what he’s doing, he knows the hold he has over you — your brain is already turning into a foggy mess of want, and even the prospect of waiting two minutes for him to lay his hands on you is too much to bear. Your nails drag across his shoulders, tugging at the thin material. He misses the doorknob to your bedroom thanks to your antics, sending you against the wood a little harshly and forcing the air out of your lungs. “Sorry, sorry.”

“Still on the pill.”

“Hm?” he echoes, managing to turn it right on the second try and popping it open properly.

“I’m still on the pill,” you repeat. San freezes in place to stare at your face. You bring a hand around to toy at his parted lips with your thumb. “So you can fuck me raw.”

San becomes so dumbstruck that his jaw moves up and down over and over without any semblance of noise coming out.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come in my pants like a horny teenager,” he says under his breath. You drop your head back and laugh. San’s hold on you feels so blissfully warm. You didn’t even have time for this during the semester, sometimes thanks to your workloads but more often thanks to sheer exhaustion. A few solo jaunts before bed are hardly enough to please you the way San does. Based on how tightly he’s gripping your ass, he seems to feel exactly the same.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

He manages to get you both to the bed without further incident, laying you down on the mattress with a sort of reverence that makes your chest swell with emotion. Even through the barrier of clothing, his fingers are hot and sear a path from your hips up your waist then right back down again as San wastes no time in stripping you of your pants. 

“I missed you so fucking much it’s insane.” You want to respond, but the sight of your lover dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed stops you in your tracks. All you can do is lie there and watch him tug your pants off, lips moving to kiss each bit of exposed skin along the way. Goosebumps rise across your body when he kisses his way up higher. His broad frame cages you in the closer he gets to your face, and despite his hands being on the somewhat small side, they feel all-encompassing when they’re sneaking under your shirt and exploring the skin beneath.

“I missed you more,” you murmur, catching his chin between your fingers and angling his face upwards so you can properly look at him. “I love you so so much, San. More than I can put into words.”

“Yeah?” You make no effort to pull him higher although he moves as though you do and climbs all the way up to be right over your face. He hums before dipping down to kiss the corner of your mouth. “I think I’ve missed you more still though—” another kiss, this time to the opposite side of your mouth “—but you’re welcome to challenge me on that.”

“San,” you whine. He pulls back and sits back on his knees. Your brain goes totally blank watching him take his shirt off. It’s something you’ve seen time and time again, truly nothing new or foreign to you, but something about it now makes your gut twist in on itself. He’s lost a bit of the muscle you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on him, now softer around the edges, at the waist and across his stomach. It doesn’t curb your desire for him in the slightest; if anything it makes you want him more, to cling to him tighter and feel him firmer against you.

He throws the shirt down to the floor and drags a hand through his dark hair. His legs are splayed around yours, putting the prominent bulge in his pants on full display before you.

“I want you to use me, y/n.” He grabs your hand from where it’s resting against the bed and brings it to his chest. You dig your nail into his flesh like it’s second nature to do so. “Tonight, for your pleasure.” His eyes trail after your every moment, watching as you sit up and pull your legs out from under him. You graze the underside of his dick ever so slightly yet it’s still enough to make his lashes flutter. 

“Then…” San is like putty in your hands, conforming to every move you make while still maintaining that unbreaking eye contact. He turns with you, and you climb off the bed to stand despite feeling seconds away from toppling over. All it takes is the slightest push against his chest for him to lie flat on his back. “Will you be good for me?” 

His response comes in the form of a bitten-back whine thanks to you cupping the bulge of his cock as you withdraw your hand. It’s intoxicating to strip him of his jeans and feel every inch of his pretty tapered waist. You urge him to move further up on the bed, making room for you between his legs once you’ve tossed his pants down beside yours on the floor. The tip of his cock peeks out the top of his underwear, already stiff and leaking precum onto the elastic band. Saucy nudes here and there don’t do him nearly enough justice, you think. You tease just the bit of him that's exposed with your tongue, licking at the sensitive and swollen head, and he twitches beneath the fabric. Humming to yourself, you inch his underwear down just far enough to put his whole member on display, along with his balls, but you don’t go any further than that. It’s enough for you to get your mouth around him, after all, and that’s exactly what you do without giving San any time to brace himself for the touch.

He lets out a desperate moan the moment your wet heat envelopes his length, fingers curling into his palms around the comforter. His hips twitch with the desire to thrust upwards, but he keeps himself firmly planted on the bed, fulfilling his end of the bargain for you and being so delightfully good. The weight of him on your tongue isn’t nearly enough; you want him buried deep inside you as soon as possible, and you’d go on and do it now if you didn’t think it would hurt like a bitch given how long it’s been since you’ve taken him. San isn’t distracted enough to miss the way you retract a hand to touch yourself, and he fights to speak through broken moans.

“I w-wanna touch you, pretty.” You lift yourself off his cock until just the tip sits on your lower lip.

“I’ll let you later when I ask you to fold me in half and fuck me into the mattress.” You sink two fingers into your hole, taking San back into your mouth to revel in that full feeling again. You’re just as needy as he is, in reality, because your walls are already coated with arousal and it pools around the base of your fingers in such a way that it makes your cheeks flush. San’s noises aren’t helping in the slightest — for as quiet as he is in day-to-day life, he is ever so vocal when it comes to sex, especially when his cock is buried in your mouth. He’s just long enough to push right into the back of your throat, making it far easier for you to take him fully. 

“Your mouth feels so — fuck, fucking good, baby.” If you weren’t preoccupied, you would love to return his words with your own, so you settle for tugging at his balls a little. It earns you a delightful little yelp, and his hips buck up to drive his dick further into your throat than expected. “Hngh, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“I want—” you don’t finish your train of thought, too rushed to bother with it as you scramble to rid yourself of your underwear. San greets you with his hands when you climb back onto the bed and grabs hold of your waist. He tugs and pulls at your shirt until it’s gone too, leaving you with nothing more than your plain black bra. However, even that San seems to find issue with, because he toys with the clasp until it comes loose and throws that aside too.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, settling back against the mattress. He’s always told you this is his favorite position, to see you straddling his hips and bouncing on his cock, though he favors missionary quite a bit as well because it lets him see your body and face while he’s fucking you (despite how much he loves your ass). His cock is trapped between your pussy and his stomach now, hard and throbbing for the same kind of stimulation you so desperately crave. You drag your folds along his length a few times just to tease San, but he grips your hip in warning. In hindsight, you should have let him finger you open more before because the stretch is far more than you remember — not enough to hurt, but enough for you to really feel every inch of him entering your body. It makes you writhe atop him, your spine arches, and you drop your head back. San holds you like you're a precious gem, thick arms circling around your waist as you rest your hands on his chest. The position gives you some much-needed stability, but San's fingers have begun to get severely distracting. He rolls his thumbs into your skin, pausing only to squeeze and pinch at the more sensitive parts of your sides. 

“I’m gonna start moving,” you whisper like being too loud will break some sort of seal. San nods and unwraps his arms enough to simply hold your hips. Despite the decrease in definition of his muscles, his strength doesn’t seem to have gone anywhere, because he lifts you with such ease that it’s a bit dizzying. Still, he lets the control rest in your hands. You sink down slowly on his cock, letting your walls get used to the drag, before doing the same motion two, three more times. The first whimper to fall from your lips is what snaps your resolve. San’s hold on you remains firm but only to ease the strain on your thighs as you begin to pick up your pace. 

“Beautiful, beautiful, you’re so beautiful, my sweet.” San rolls his hips up in time with your movements, driving his cock up into your cunt as you drop yourself onto him, and it reaches so deep inside you that you see stars behind your eyelids. “Missed you so much, missed this, seeing your body through photos wasn’t enough — fuck, it wasn’t enough.”

“How many, ah, times did you come to those photos, hm?” You crack one eye open to watch San’s face. He’s already flushed with want, but the red in his cheeks deepens more upon hearing your question. You lean your weight further into your hands. “I fingered myself so many times thinking of you, Sannie. B-But, hngh, it wasn’t good enough. Not as good as your cock. Nothing… n-nothing feels as good!”

San thrusts up with more vigor now, all but taking over for you to go slack above him as he drives your hips down with his hands and pushes his length into you from the opposite direction. Then, suddenly, his movements falter and stutter to a halt, and he looks just as shocked as you are when his cock twitches against your walls. A blooming of warmth fills you right after, along with the realization that San has just come inside you without warning.

“I-I’m sorry, I — I didn’t mean to, ah, I thought I would last longer.” He slings an arm up over his eyes, and the red in his face deepens in hue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you come first.” You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. Leaning down over him, you peel his arm away from his face so that you can see his shamed expression better.

“Your dick is far from the only thing that can make me come, babe. Right?” 

He nods a few times, but there’s still a pout on his lips. You kiss it away. 

“Then—” you detach yourself from his body, bringing about an unwelcome emptiness as his spent cock slips out of you, and roll onto your back beside him. He watches with rapt attention as you spread your legs and open your pussy to him. “Why don’t you?”

San moves with surprising haste for a man who has just come, rolling into the space between your legs, and while you expected him to just use his fingers to get you off, he hooks his hands around your thighs and shoves his face into your used cunt instead. It yanks a startled moan out of you, and it’s only amplified when he closes his lips around your clit. He’s lucky you don’t give him a concussion with how quickly you slam your thighs around his head. You don’t notice that he’s moved a hand until fingers are prodding at your leaking entrance and urging the come he just pumped into you back into your hole.

“O-Oh, San.” 

Normally, he takes his sweet time eating you out, bringing you to the precipice of orgasm before sending you right back down time and time again without release. Though, either out of lingering shame at coming early or simply out of a desire to make you unravel, San laps at your clit so eagerly that it sends shudders through you. You can feel your blood rushing lower as he urges you to come, walls clenching around his fingers. It only takes another second more for the first wave to hit you, and it makes you scramble to grab hold of San’s hair as he keeps curling his fingers over your sweet spot. He does so throughout each wave of your orgasm until tears burn the corners of your eyes and you’re all but pleading for him to grant you some mercy.

“You — you had nothing to prove, you know,” you say between desperate attempts to catch your breath. San giggles and looks up at you from his lewd position. “Ugh!” You shove his head away from you half-heartedly just to spare yourself more embarrassment.

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that, duck!”

You only go as far as the pillows, turning back to him immediately and opening your arms to welcome him into them. 

“I came too early, of course I had something to prove,” he adds once he’s snugly placed against your chest. You slot together like two pieces of a puzzle, his head under your chin and your breath stirring the messy strands of hair in your path. “I’ve fallen out of practice. When was the last time I did that? It’s embarrassing…”

You can’t contain your laughter.

“You always come a little early when I ride you.”

“That’s not fair!”

All you can do to soothe him is pat his head. You feel a tad sticky and gross all over, but San’s warmth more than makes up for it, and if you’re not careful, you’re certain you’ll fall asleep within minutes. A small sniffle coming from the man atop you chases thoughts of rest away in the blink of an eye though.

“San?”

“’m okay, promise.”

“You’re crying, baby, that’s not ”okay“.”

“I just,” he inhales and licks over his lips, skating across your sternum in the process. “I wasn’t sure I was gonna stay afloat without you.” You comb your fingers through his hair.

“Tell me when you need me and I’ll be there. Always.”

“I didn’t want to disrupt your schedule and get in the way.”

“You have to trust that I’ll take care of myself and my responsibilities even if I help you too. You always tell me that when I worry over the same things. It goes both ways, San, okay?”

“Okay.” He nods against you. “Okay, I’ll try to remember that. As long as you don’t lock yourself away when things get tough. Rely on me if you need strength. And talk to me when something is on your mind.”

“Alright, we have an agreement.” Out of nowhere, you remember Wooyoung’s suggestion from this morning. Picking at a stray piece of San’s hair, you mull over your thoughts some more. You could let things settle as they are now since things seem to be back to a pleasant state of balance. But even so, would it do any harm to try anyway? “I’d like to go on a first date again. With you. I want us to go on a first date again.”

“Hm?”

“Like… I want us to go out like it’s the first time all over again. And feel that excitement and giddiness we had back then. We don’t have to, it’s just a thought. I don’t know. Maybe it’d be a good thing after this semester.”

Silence overtakes the room. San’s breathing is so steady that you think he’s fallen asleep, but the second you try to shift and see his face, he tilts his head up and looks into your eyes.

“Alright. Let’s go on a first date again.”

…

“I figured we’d go to that little Thai place by the grocery before heading over to the Christmas light show?”

“Oh!” Your thoughts rearrange themselves around his words. “That sounds really nice, yeah.”

“The guys wanna meet up at Wooyoung’s after for chicken and beer, but I told them I’d leave the decision up to you.” He tilts his chin a bit to the side as he speaks, lips quirked up at the corners, and you find yourself so incredibly fond of him all over again.

“Let’s see how we feel after walking around.”

You offer to drive tonight, but he denies you quickly, whining about how he filled his tank full of gas just for tonight so you don’t push the matter any further than that (though, you still tease him a bit once he opens the passenger door for you). When he turns the car on, music starts blasting through the speakers, a song you recognize well, and the dash shows that he’s been listening to the playlist you made for him at the start of the last school year. 

“Sorry, forgot the volume was up so high.” He scrambles to twist the dial down, but you stop him with your hand, gripping his wrist lightly and giving a firm shake of your head.

“I didn’t realize you still listened to it. Normally you just have the radio going.”

“Ah, well,” San’s cheeks are a bit flush under the low lights of the car, “I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit sentimental these days.” His next move is a bit hesitant; he reaches across the console and lays his hand atop your thigh. You reassure him by putting your hand over his, fingers curling around his once again. It feels normal and familiar, though you can’t count on two hands the last time you’ve done something as menial as holding hands with San. 

“San?” He makes a noise of acknowledgment while watching the road. “I’ve missed you.” His nails dig into your flesh a little, and the pressure makes your heart clench in your chest.

“I’ve missed you more.” You can only see his side profile, but it’s enough for you to catch the upturn of his lips. 

“I’ve missed you most then.” The statement slips out through a pout. 

“And I love you more than the moon loves the ocean.”

The weight of his hand is comfort enough for you to be at ease for the rest of the drive.

────────────

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this work belongs to caly / hongism (2023). do not copy, repost, or plagiarize in any way.

[rottiens]

NOCTURNAL WALTZ | RYŌMEN SUKUNA

✮ summary. . when life tries to ruin your dreams you keep trying. you get up, wipe the sweat off and try again, even when you fall… it's either that, or ally yourself with your rival and hope he doesn't drag you down to the bottom of hell with him.

✮ cw. . workplace harassment (not from sukuna), slight possessiveness, slight violence (blood), alcohol consumption, smoking, eventual smut, exhibitionism, choking kink, dirty talk, breeding kink, 18+

✮ tags. . modern + ballet au, enemies to friends to lovers, briefly fake dating, all characters are adults, descriptions used for the reader: fem + afab!, backstory, has hair long enough to tie, wears dress in one scene. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ wc. . 18K

Ever since you were a little girl all you've known to do is dance. 

You did it at school performances, you did it at Christmas when your whole family gathered in the living room and the snow fell cold on the tall treetops and red flowers in your garden. 

You always remember the scene wistfully and in slow motion, longing for the days that will never return. Your father played the piano and your mother looked on proudly, her hands were always clasped together at chest level watching you with the eyes of an owl making circles with your legs in the air. She always had that expression on her face as if she was afraid you were going to fall, she was always on the edge of her seat, her lips curved into a smile— after all, she was in charge of organizing all your choreography and choosing the songs you were going to dance to, along with your shoes and your outfit. All this was until you were fifteen when you begged her to finally enroll you in a real dance school.

You remember how nervous you were on the first day. You wore your hair pulled back so tight it looked like you were smiling the whole time, your eyebrows stretched and your stomach felt like that Halloween night where you ate so much candy your guts hurt, though all of this was pushed aside the moment you saw the great ballroom.

The walls rose far higher than your little eyes could see. White lights glowed against the beige walls —which your teenager self mentally corrected them later, it wasn't beige, it was salmon, with curtains the color of the peach your mother cut on Sunday mornings— and in the background you could appreciate a melody you knew well since it was your mother's favorite, the one she always chose for you to dance: "dance of the sugar plum fairy." 

Training professionally was much more demanding than your mom had told you. You studied in the morning and practiced in the afternoon, your feet hurt all the time in the beginning although with time this became more bearable, however they never stopped hurting because you never stopped practicing. 

The lights blinded you for a moment leading you to run away from the incandescent glowing light, causing you to stumble and Sukuna purposely let you fall from his arms so that you kissed the ground. 

Your body hits the wooden floor with a dull thud, the live music doesn't stop because of your accident and the director of the ballet claps twice again. It's the signal that the show must go on, it's what the music means that instead of slowing down it rushes to climax, you force yourself to stand up, with a sukuna growling tiredly behind you. No one helps you so you do it alone, you bury your toes in the wood and your injured feet push off the ground and support your weight once more as you rise phoenix-like on your tips.  

This is what it takes to be a pro, is what your mother would say if she were alive. You hear her voice loud and strong in your eardrum along with the noise of the music. 

One, two and... up!

You hear her ask you for more. Lift your foot more, lift your knees more, straighten your back more. You're trying but—

"You're being too rough," you spit through gritted teeth. Maintaining the fake smile your character must wear. 

You know he hears you, yet he remains silent, twisting and turning, holding you above his head and taking one last turn.... Everything seems blurry from your point of view, your stomach churning like a roller coaster even though you don't remember the last thing you ate because this was exactly what you wanted to avoid. 

Don't throw up, don't throw up.

You catch the two claps from the director indicating that sukuna should drop you and that's exactly what he does... with a little more force than he should, his hands are loose on your waist, barely gripping you. Your arms stretch, they tremble in the air as does your smile, a cold sweat that shouldn't be there runs down your temples, you feel the salty drops slide over your lower lip and your breathing becomes almost nonexistent, your chest rises and falls and then sukuna lets you go, you are alone, the lights focus completely on you and you hear laughter in the background. 

This is the moment where you must do your solo. Spin alone one more time and then let yourself fall. Your feet don't respond at first, you had forgotten your smile, very focused on moving your legs but when you manage to do it you falter again and collapse on the floor with a harder impact than the previous time. Now the music comes to a sudden stop. 

You hear him sigh heavily, followed by the fluttering of the sheets of paper in his hand. Kurogawa, the director, puts his glasses on his head like a makeshift headband and slaps his hands once. 

Immediately the whole room fills with noise, people start moving. Even your dance partner who although you don't see him, you feel him walking and moving away from you. You have a hard time getting up, this time you really have a hard time. Your body has been beaten to a pulp by the dozens of practices you have carried out these days, your dress and tights hide the bruises that have permeated the floor on them, you carry on your hips sukuna fingers by the force in which he has grabbed you, even so, you do not manage to perform the spin that should come out naturally. 

You are a star, this is what you were born to do and this is what you have always done, why can't a dumb spin come out perfectly? 

Kurogawa calls your name before you can move further away. You freeze in the middle of the stage, grateful to be away from the spotlight and more in the comfort of the gloom. 

You sense his footsteps approaching, with each footstep his heels announce how close he is and your body trembles, your teeth chatter and you force yourself to be still. 

"What's the matter?" His voice is neither far nor near. 

"I don't..." you force your lip between your teeth before articulating your next words. You can't say you can't. 

"I asked you a question." His body is behind you, stopping the draft that touched your back, serving as a wall that exudes warmth and insecurity. 

His hand curls around your forearm with some force and makes you turn to see him, his violet eyes are naked, without the glasses he looks much younger, yet a couple of gray hairs escape from the improvised headband reminding you of the age difference. 

Kurogawa examines you up and down, his eyes linger on your mouth for a moment and you think maybe he notices how dry they are, this prompts you to lick them suddenly. 

"Do you want me to switch someone for you? There are dozens of girls who wish they were in your shoes." 

"I know, sir." You bite your lip to control your emotions, and swallow the bitter bile rising up your esophagus. 

His hand descends from your forearm to the width of your shoulder blades. "I don't think you appreciate it enough." This time he addresses you in a lower tone, he's hunched down to be at your height and the tone he uses would seem like he's telling a secret. His fingers run down the length of your back, you feel his fingers drag the fabric and linger on your lower back. "Is it Ryōmen? Is he the problem?" Then he pulls you closer to his body, this time there is no space between you, his leg is touching yours and his bittersweet breath, the taste of liquor mixed with wilted petals brushes your nose. 

"I feel that we are not compatible, sir."

"Ah..." exclaims Kurogawa, still glued to you. "Are you implying that my best student isn't good enough for you?" 

"I think..." he was too close for you to even think of anything. You try to see past his shoulders that steal all the light yet there is nothing but darkness, and the chill in your temples moves to your lower abdomen. 

“Child... you're lucky your daddy paid a lot of money for you to be here, I don't think there's much talent in you.” Your mascara-filled lashes flutter like the wings of a swan. Your lips part to ask for space, but you're interrupted, he says your name and it's bitter, it sounds disgusting in his throat. “But the untalented ones, they can always do something else, can't they?” 

Suddenly, someone calls your name again from the vast darkness behind you. 

“Don't keep me waiting. You made me promise to take you home, brat.” 

Kurogawa takes a moment to detach himself from you and you inhale in despair, you were drowning in his cheap cologne and alcohol stench. Sukuna is behind him, like a silhouette, you can barely make out his body. 

You don't stop to look at the director when you step out of his reach, you don't even do it with Sukuna and run far away from there. The silence that settles in the corridor is terrifying, you feel like running to get away as fast as you can from there, however you try to keep your composure, you tighten the fabric of the tutu looking for some security and comfort in it breathing out of sync and when you manage to reach the street you have to lean back against one of the walls to regain your composure. 

You force yourself to breathe through your nose and let it out through your mouth forming a cold mist. The icy breath of the night is a slap of reality that makes your cheeks tingle and your legs and arms are the first to complain about the change in temperature. 

Sukuna appears at your side a few seconds later, he says nothing, so you force yourself to lift your head and check his expression. There are wrinkles in his brow and he has his hands tucked in his front pockets, you realize this is the first time you've seen him in casual clothes. He had had time to change out of his uniform to replace it with worn blue jeans and a black sweater that has blood red lettering embroidered on the chest. 

His presence floods you with the same excitement as the first time you stepped off the plane and the change of weather made your body bristle, making you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. You were scared like a mouse forced out of its burrow. As at that moment, all you needed was a hug. A ghostly force grabs you by the hips and lifts you off the brick wall, throwing you into the arms of your dance partner in search of the comfort you can't seem to find anywhere else these past few days.

Sukuna tenses up at your boldness. You are sobbing into his chest as if someone has passed away. He stands still for a while, allowing your hands to barely touch his hip, while the few passersby watch the peculiar scene, wondering what has happened; after all you are still outside the prestigious ballet academy.

Against all odds, he puts his hand on your back in an unprofessional way, in a way he has never done even dancing with you. His arm floats in the air in a strange and awkward motion until he decides to rest it on your lower back, completely pulling you closer to him. His left arm goes to your shoulder blades squeezing you to his chest completely, giving you a strange comfort that doesn't quite reach friendly.

Excessive tears prevent you from breathing, so you fight the grip and prison that is his ribcage to look up and search his eyes.

“Are you okay?” Your knees give out on you, though with his help you stabilize again. “What was it he said to you?”

You sniffle through your nose. Those red eyes seem to watch every move you make and suddenly, the heat of realization of how close you are begins to climb up your ribs until it sits on your chest.

“Nothing.”

“I saw how close you were. Whatever he said or did to you...” Sukuna pauses, weighing what he will say next. You see him close his mouth and his jaw tenses. “You can trust me, I know there are rumors that he...” 

“This is just an allergy,” you interrupt him by clearing your throat. 

Sukuna laughs. Not only does he laugh, but he brushes you aside as he bursts out laughing holding his stomach. You cross your arms and pucker your lips, feeling the indignation immediately.

Without saying anything to him and with the wind freezing the salty tears on your cheeks, you turn to walk away from him infuriated with yourself that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with someone like him. 

“Brat!” he was still laughing. “Wait...” you hear him trot behind you, until his fingers pull your forearm back to force you to stop. “Your bag.”

When you notice what he's holding in his hands and had probably been carrying on his back, you realize that it was indeed your bag. You would have left it in the room along with your belongings in the locker had it not been for him. 

“Thank you,” is all you say, still suspicious of his thoughtfulness.

“Are you hungry?”

“No.”

As if it were part of a comedy scene, your stomach growls and Sukuna has to cover his mouth to contain his laughter. You look at him accusingly again. When he removes his hand from his face and raises it in submission, he reveals a smile that shows his teeth and fangs, returning to the predatory aura that always surrounds him.

“I'm gonna order sushi to go, you can join me if you want.” The wind makes you hug yourself again, avoiding his eyes at all costs. “It's across the street.”

Ryōmen Sukuna has been a pain in the ass ever since you met him at dance school. Ever since you arrived, all he's done is annoy you: bad-mouth you to your classmates, be rude in your presence, and belittle your work when you were chosen as the principal dancer. Having him here, pretending to care about you and inviting you to dinner, throws you off.

Realizing that you cried into his chest and, worse, were comforted by his touch, makes you feel guilty.

“I don't need your fake kindness.”

Sukuna lets out a snort and mimics you, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at you from above, like a superior being marking his position.

“It's just sushi. Don't act like I'm offering you an engagement ring. Just say no.”

“And that's what I said,” you reply with a bark, struggling to maintain your stance and what little courage you'd mustered to stand up to him.

You notice how Sukuna drops his arms and falls silent. Something inside you wants to continue arguing or just talk to someone. When you get “home”, you're just sitting on the bed staring at the ceiling, counting the times your room is illuminated by the lights of the cars passing by on the avenue or swiping on tiktok until you fall asleep.

You try to find an excuse to talk to him again, but you run out of ideas as you see him turn his back to you, checking the road up and down to make sure no vehicles are coming.

“Okay. I'll see you next week,” he says before crossing to the other side.

“Wait...” you call out to him, but Sukuna is about to reach the other sidewalk. He doesn't stop when you call out his name, even though you know he's listening. You step forward and shout again, a little louder this time. “Can you take me home?!”

Sukuna stops and turns slowly. You wish someone could wipe the ridiculous smile off his face and the incredulous expression he has right now. You instantly regret asking for his help.

You both wait patiently for the approaching cars to drive away in opposite directions, leaving you again in silence.

“What was that? I don't think I heard you,” Sukuna mutters, squinting his eyes and bending his body forward a bit.

You check both ends of the road before walking across and finding yourself face to face with him.

“I think I missed the bus,” you mumble hastily, a little embarrassed. “Please,” you add, doubting whether politeness will make any difference on this occasion. After all, you're dealing with Sukuna; you don't think being nice and kind will work with someone like him, so you opt to offer a bribe. “I'm going to pay you.”

“I don't need your money, brat,” he spits as soon as the words are out of your mouth, looking outraged when you look him in the face again.

“Can you stop calling me that?” Sukuna chuckles, clearly amused with a situation that you don't find funny at all. Your life is falling apart to pieces with every passing second, but to him it's a circus. “What's so funny?”

"Are you always so serious? It's a little annoying that you don't know how to take a joke; I wouldn't be surprised if you had no friends."

You want to slap him, even though you know it wouldn't make any difference. You've felt him behind you, leaning against your back, his firm hands holding your hips and helping your movements flow, so a slap on his shoulder would be in vain, it would only make him laugh.

Now you want to slap yourself regretting that you decided to talk to him in the first place, that you showed yourself vulnerable. 

“Are you going to take me or not?” you insist.

“Give me your address.” Sukuna pulls his phone out of one of his front pockets and types as you give him the direction. Exactly three seconds later he exclaims, “Are you staying in a motel? I thought you had money.”

You don't know how much more you can take before you explode; you clench your fists some more, trying to contain your anger.

“I don't think that's really any of your business.”

You stand in silence for another while. He checks his phone while you watch him. The sign behind him above your heads is decorated with pink neon lines that flashes forming the name of the restaurant.

Sukuna sighs wearily, catching your attention. “Okay, join me in ordering something to go first.”

Sukuna doesn't wait for you to complain or agree with his proposal before he starts walking ahead of you, his steps slow and unhurried. You decide to follow him at a distance that gives the impression that you are not together.

With an open hand, Sukuna pushes open the transparent door and a bell announces the entrance of new customers. The place is immersed in an elegant and serene atmosphere; the aroma of rice floats freely in the air, filling your hungry stomach that growls for a mouthful of whatever they are cooking. Aside from three girls at the counter taking their orders, there are no customers other than the two of you.

You let Sukuna move on as you stop to admire the details of the place. The walls are painted in warm tones that emulate natural wood, and the ceiling has hanging paper lamps that create soft lighting.

The low murmur of water in a small koi pond in the center of the room catches your attention. You approach and watch the fish swimming freely in the water currents; you bend down to observe one in particular that appears to have a scar on one of its fins. You squint your eyes and move closer to the pond to check if the fish is okay, but at that moment the light of the restaurant is interrupted by the body weight of someone overshadowing it.

When you look up, you find Sukuna scowling at you. You don't understand what that look means and decide not to insist on deciphering it. You straighten up to try to match his height.

“Let's go.”

“So soon?” it seemed like they were waiting for him.

You watch his hands, holding a white paper bag with the restaurant's logo on the top. Then you notice the girls who seem to share a secret as they murmur, barely disguising that they are looking at you.

Sukuna continues to stare at you, so you decide not to say anything else and simply nod at his silent command. You make your way to the door and the bell rings again as you leave the place.

“Where's your car?”

You catch him grinning. Maybe you've said something he finds curious, or maybe he just wants to tease you because he can; being rude seems to come naturally to him after all. You let him lead the way and trace the way as he rummages for some keys in the back of his jeans, all the while heading towards the back of the restaurant.

Suspicious, you look around to make sure there is someone nearby who can help you if necessary. Amazement assaults you as you discover that in the back there is a parking lot, and there, in the middle of the empty spot, you see a bike. It's a shiny, black sportbike with red accents, sleek and modern looking.

The realization dries your throat.

“Is that yours?”

“Yup,” he looks amused and almost proud to actually own such a beautiful and imposing bike. You could taste the teasing tone in his voice and in the way he hurried his footsteps away from you, and you struggled to keep up with him.

Sukuna got on the bike and inserted the keys immediately, while you stood motionless, watching him hold it up with his feet so it wouldn't fall off.

“What are you waiting for?” He didn't have a helmet for himself, much less for you. He wasn't wearing gloves either, and that was perhaps the reason why his hands always felt rough when you had skin-to-skin contact when dancing.

You looked around you, meeting the vast nothingness again, as if you were asking the universe for help.

“I've never been on a bike,” you confessed to him without a filter.

You didn't know what to expect when you blurted that out, but it definitely wasn't Sukuna staring silently at you, stabbing you with those dagger-red eyes. 

“So what, are you scared? C'mon, come on up.”

You sighed deeply in surrender and climbed up the bike trying to touch him as little as possible, but always failing on the spot. Sukuna jerked a little along with the bike as you tried to improve your posture behind him, trying to lower what you could of your tutu so it wouldn't fly off when he started driving.

Eagerly waiting for him to pull you away, you slide your hands down his hips and cling to his body in search of a safety that immediately greets you. The engine growls like a beast making your whole body vibrate, you cling tighter to him closing your eyes tight for a moment before letting out a sigh. 

“Hold on tight,” he says, at the same time rolling his hand across the throttle.

You crinkle the fabric of his sweater under your fingers clinging to him as if your life depended on it. As he moves forward and picks up speed on the road, you hide your face in his back finding the same security as a few moments ago when you allowed yourself to sob into his chest. 

The last thing you expected on a monotonous Thursday night was to end up like this, hugging Sukuna who is the last person you would ask for help, right after having the second worst day of your life. You allow yourself to relax in his presence now that you are not looking at him and now that your thoughts are overpowered by the sound of the wind against your ears. 

You don't have time to elaborate any more nostalgic thoughts as Sukuna slows down and you are forced to return to the present, raising your head over his shoulder to check where you are. It was already completely dark when you arrive at the motel, and as you step into the gloom, you make out the dim lights flickering in the distance, indicating the other rooms that must be inhabited by people like you, with no settled place to go or belong.

“You can leave me here,” you indicate speaking slowly, longing for the moment when you can step onto solid ground again and return to the safe space that was your motel room, that even if it smelled like cheap detergent and the green apple spray you bought at the nearby gas station convenience store, you've managed to call home these past few months.

Sukuna obediently stops the bike near room 147 and allows you to get off, without asking questions or making conversation, which surprises you. Discomfort washes over you from your feet covered by ballerina slippers, up your cold legs until it reaches your chest.

“Thank you,” is all you say out of kindness. Instinctively you hug yourself, shrugging your shoulders toward your ears in search of some warmth.

Sukuna looks you up and down, and in his eyes you notice that spark of accusation or perhaps contempt, similar to the one you saw in your father the last time he visited you.

You wait for him to finally say something, after long seconds that feel endless, but you interrupt him before he gets the chance.

“I'm quitting.” You don't know why you say that, your body expels it as an automatic reaction, similar to vomiting after a hangover.

You immediately regret it and turn away. Little interested in what he might say next, you hasten your steps to run away from him and hide in your shelter as soon as possible.

“I thought it was allergies.” Bastard. You grind your teeth, clenching your fists. You don't have the energy to fight him; what little of the mask you put on to pretend you're the perfect woman will soon unravel like Cinderella's spell, and you don't want that to happen while you're arguing with him.

“I thought you were a tough girl.” You hear him yell again, as you try to pretend he doesn't exist. You turn left, in the direction of your room, the last one in the whole row.

“I can help.” Those words slow your steps to a complete stop. It takes you a moment to find the courage to turn around, but you finally do, taking a breath of air and looking him straight in the eye.

The distance between you is about the size of a bus, not much, but enough to look like a pair of cowboys about to have a duel and so that anyone listening can pick up on your discussion thanks to the silence of the night.

“Help with what?” you ask, defiantly.

Sukuna looks up at the sky for a moment, as if the answer is in the clouds. Without looking at you, he replies, “To be less of a dick, maybe.” Asshole. “To teach you how to relax once you're under the lights.”

You fold your arms. “If...?”

He grins, clearly amused with how much he's enjoying the situation, and you want to shout into the wind how much you hate him. Now you understand why he doesn't like you; your personalities are very different. You like the summer, he probably likes the cold. He's always teasing and getting under your skin, while you have to constantly fight not to break. You are polar opposites of different worlds.

“If you help me with something.”

“With what exactly?” you ask almost instantly. 

“It's just a favor,” he replies with a shrug.

“What kind of favor?” you insist.

“It's not that kind of favor,” he says with a gesture of annoyance.

“What's in it for you?”

“Can't I help a partner?”

You're tired of playing this game. It's clearly draining your time and energy. You appreciate that he brought you home and behaved with the slightest decency you would expect from an empathetic human being seeing someone cry, but you've had enough. You turn to leave, feeling it's not worth wasting any more time on this. You plan to sleep thinking about your decision and send a letter to the director tomorrow morning. With what little money you have left, you hope to travel back to your home country.

“I need help with my grandfather.” It's as if Sukuna drops a hook that your innocence fishes for. You're not sure what he's referring to, but your curiosity compels you to turn once more and face him. This time, you close the distance with each new unsure step. 

Watching you walk towards him, Sukuna continues. “Monthly he sends fish to Yokohama. The guy who was helping me quit a few months ago, so I've had to do it alone, which is a pain in the ass,” he runs a hand through his tousled hair from the trip, seemingly remembering.

“Why me?”

“Don't think you're special,” he grumbles with a growl, reflecting on what he just said, he adds. “What I mean is, it's a favor for a favor. I'll tutor you on how to improve as a dancer, and you help me with the fish. It's a win-win.”

You hate the idea of training alone with him almost as much as working moving fish, or whatever it is you're going to do, but...that was the only choice you had. It was either this or actually quit and go home empty-handed, face your failure and your father, and break the promise you had made to your mother before she died. Besides, with Sukuna as a sort of watchdog working with you you think maybe Kugawara wouldn't bother you again, though the thought of it happening again makes your skin crawl.

You nod finally, averting your gaze to your feet for a moment. “Okay. When do we start?”

“Tomorrow I'll come by and pick you up around 3:30. We'll do the fish delivery and then we can practice.”

“Okay.”

“Be on time 'cause I hate waiting,” he snorts. 

Maybe working with Sukuna wasn't such a bad idea after all. You spend all day cooped up in that old motel room, watching the cars go by and waiting for the time and days when you have to go train again. It's boring to be stuck in there doing nothing but waiting for the days to pass, so the idea of visiting another city, seeing new places and maybe discovering more about who Ryōmen Sukuna was seems appealing to you; you can't deny it.

There's so much mystery surrounding him that you can't help but be drawn in.

Fri. 4/14 • 5:50PM — 

You mentally cross out what you thought the night before and wish yesterday's version of you had thought more or at least asked more questions before blindly agreeing. Working with Sukuna was terrible, much worse than you imagined before you fell asleep. You hated the fishy smell permeating your clothes, rather, clothes you borrowed from Sukuna belonging to the boy who quit earlier. The uniform was baggy and threadbare: the faded blue T-shirt had sweat stains and stale smell, while the pants are baggy, a bit long and a dull gray color, with a loose belt to adjust the size. 

You wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand after putting the last box of fish in the restaurant's freezer and being thankful to be done with everything for the day. You restrain yourself from complaining to Sukuna for not making it clear to you exactly what work you would be doing because after all it had been your fault for not asking and trusting unquestioningly. As you bite the inside of your cheek to control your tongue, you realize that inside the colors and patterns are the same as the sushi restaurant across the street from the academy, which makes you think they are probably from the same brand.

Outside, the clear Yokohama sky shows a bright sun toasting your cheeks as Sukuna finishes signing papers behind you. The change of season has the weather undecided, on the verge of leaving winter behind; some spring mornings are warm and the nights, cold.

His shoes clack against the pavement as he approaches you. With a light tap on your forearm, you hear him chuckle, following it up with, “Who knew? I didn't know you could carry so much weight.”

He doesn't wait for your response and continues on his way to the white truck. With your eyes narrowed and your feet begging you for a break, you walk to the waiting, lit truck and slam the door shut. Being in the cold air, with your sore feet now stretched out should feel more comforting. You're protected from the sun's rays and its warmth, and the spicy apple air freshener is pleasant enough to make you forget that it's spring. However, the situation is not entirely delightful for you. 

Sukuna next to you seems immune to the silence that you find so uncomfortable. You take a quick glance at him and find him staring down the road as he drives back to town. He has one hand curled around the steering wheel and the other resting on his leg. His uniform is different from yours; his consists of an impeccable white shirt and blue pants tailored to fit him navy blue, on the left side at chest height he has the restaurant's name written on it. 

Now that his shirt sleeves are rolled up, you can make out the tattoos on his wrist: two thick black rings run along his skin. Being so close to him and noticing the black ink permeating the skin makes you wonder if they hurt him much. The thought that he probably has more tattoos on areas of his body that you can't see thanks to the clothing comes into your head, but you'd rather push that image away and look straight ahead.

Traffic is moving slowly, with seas of vehicles coming and going on a dual carriageway Sukuna has to slow down every so often because the cars stop which makes you understand that you will be stuck here for a while. Bored with the silence and not wanting to be the first to speak, you take the liberty of turning on the radio, jumping from station to station before finding one that plays old romantic music.

Sukuna makes a snorting sound, prompting you to look directly at him. When your gazes meet, you'd rather ignore the feeling in your stomach and the cocked grimace you manage to notice on his lips before he undoes it.

“What?” you ask him, surprised that your tone doesn't sound as dismissive as usual. “I can find another station if...”

“It's my grandfather's favorite,” he confesses to you quietly. “That one's fine.”

Your fingers slowly move away from the radio, processing what he's confessed to you and considering that this might be a window into getting to know him better.

“You said you were helping him —  is this his business?”

Sukuna hums as if weighing the words, tapping the steering wheel a couple of times. “Yes.”

You blink slowly. “Do you guys have a lot of time in the market?”

“Yes,” he repeats again and you fill your lungs with the smell of spicy apple and his subtle cologne.

You resign yourself to having a monosyllabic conversation with him so you press your lips together and rest your chin on your hand looking out the window. From where you are, you can admire the horizon and the still blue water being illuminated by the intimate rays of afternoon sun. Seagulls circle the shore and you imagine their deep song filling the bay.

“I can't remember the last time I went to the beach.” You wanted to dip your feet in the water, let the waves massage them from side to side, feel the sand between your toes and the sun warming your skin—

“Honestly, me neither. Since I've been working with fish, the beach seems less exciting to me, I don't know if that makes sense.”

You look at him, did you just say that out loud? Sukuna watches you briefly before turning his eyes back to the road. You contemplate him longer than you need to before looking straight ahead again and watching the traffic move a little faster than before.

“Have you guys always worked with this?” you perk up to ask again, still keeping your gaze straight ahead.

“Seafood?” he seems to think, humming aloud. “The restaurant has been in the family for as long as I can remember. So...yeah.”

“That's strange. I never would have imagined you doing this kind of work.”

“Why?” he chuckles, as if sharing a secret with himself.  

“You're so good at dancing,” you admit, giving him a fleeting glance. “I didn't think you do anything more than that.”

“The best,” he instantly corrects you and you physically force yourself not to roll your eyes. 

“I thought you were a spoiled rich kid.”

You turn to catch him grimacing in annoyance. Clearly, he was conflicted about what you had just said.

“I like to dance, but I've always worked hard since I was little. Everything I know and everything I do I learned from my grandfather.”

“It's just the two of you?”

You notice him frowning and speed up quickly before the light turns red. His lips open, but before he can respond, he stops the truck abruptly causing the boxes in the back to rampage and crash into each other as Sukuna shouts insults at the bicyclist who sped in front of him.

You admire him for a while longer: pursed lips, furrowed brow and hands tense around the wheel. Then, you turn your gaze ahead to catch the cyclist fleeing in front of you at full speed, now barely a distinguishable silhouette. Wasting no time, Sukuna sets off down the road again as you wonder what it was he was going to answer. Now, curiosity towards him beckons you that much more.

As Sukuna turns at an intersection to return to Tokyo, you mentally review the information you have about him:

He really loves his grandfather, of that you are left in no doubt since he is the person he mentions the most, he is the only person he talks about in fact. Also, does he cook? You make a mental note of that with a question mark next to it because you're not sure if he just drives the truck or if he really knows how to cook. Third and probably most important, he's not as bad a person as you thought he was. Yes, you still feel like fighting with him and contradicting him at the slightest argument, but that's because of resentment built up over the months. If you were meeting him today for the first time or even if you actually worked for him, you would be encouraged to recognize him as introverted at best, which makes you wonder if the person you see in the academy is just part of the show. Could this be his true personality? And what else is hidden underneath the mask?

The rest of the trip passes in silence as you immerse yourself in your thoughts and theories. The radio station gradually changes from romantic music to more danceable current pop songs, causing you to hum all the way and move your body gently to the melody.

“Are you too tired?” asks Sukuna, once you are on the main road into town.

“Yeah. Why?” you grumble with a grunt, stretching your arms above your head and swinging your feet in circles.

He nods, pondering. “I'll take you to the motel then. We can train later.”

“Oh, no. I'm ready to start today.”

Suddenly, you don't feel so tired when it comes to dancing. You don't want to wait any longer to start practicing and improving, and the truth is, the longer you go without improving, the faster the day of the final presentation comes.

Sukuna pulls into the parking lot of a tall building, moving inside the place illuminated by white lights until he comes to a complete stop next to the bike that you instantly recognize as his.

You get off the truck first with your bag slung over your shoulder, shake your feet again and perform brief stretches as you wait for Sukuna who passes by you walking certainty towards the elevator; you follow him like his shadow.

“You live here?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I thought we were going to train,” you say, wondering if his apartment will have enough space. 

“We will.”

“But...”

“Have you been told you ask too many questions?”

You fall silent as you stand inside the elevator and he presses a button that immediately turns gold, the elevator jolts smoothly and begins to slowly travel through each floor until it reaches number ten. The doors open along with a soft chime, and Sukuna is the first to step out guiding you to his floor.

The apartment complex is modern and elegant. The walls are adorned with dark wood paneling and a floor made of synthetic fur. Sukuna walks confidently down the hallway and you follow him noting the numbered doors with sleek steel plates. When you reach the door to his apartment, he takes his keys out of his pocket and inserts them into the lock opening the door with a quiet click.

He invites you in first with a nod and as you do so you find a well-decorated and tidy space, perhaps somewhat different from what you had imagined. The polished wood floor is covered by a neutral-toned carpet; the room has contemporary furniture and a wall adorned with framed photographs.

You discreetly observe your surroundings, longing to linger a little longer observing the photographs on the wall and get to know his family, however Sukuna keeps moving in front of you without giving you time to get a chance to do so. 

“I knew you were a rich kid...”

He chuckles softly. “Come.” Sukuna guides you into a hallway and stops in front of a wooden door. “Shower,” he instructs you as he sees your confusion, struggling not to flash another one of those smiles you'd grown accustomed to. “You stink of fish. Get changed, I'll be waiting for you on the terrace.”

A bitter resistance dies on your tongue. The lingering smell of raw fish clings to your clothes like an unwanted shadow. You decide not to protest that just this once he is right and instead turn your back on him, clinging to your bag as you walk into the bathroom.

You decide to take a quick shower using the first liquid soap you find on top of the sink, scrubbing your body with your hands and quickly wetting your hair to freshen it up a bit, making a note to wash it properly when you get to the motel.

When you're done, you emerge from the bathroom in one of your practice outfits that fits snugly to your body for flexibility. You tie your hair up in a high bun so it won't bother you and head with determination towards the terrace where Sukuna was waiting for you.

The sunset tints the sky with reddish hues, creating a celestial spectacle among the clouds. The terrace is decorated with potted green plants and comfortable armchairs with cushions piled at the back, leaving enough space to move around without bumping into furniture. 

Dim lights hang from the ceiling, subtly illuminating the space. And in the background, soft instrumental music plays, similar to what the academy plays. Sukuna is sitting stretching his legs out on the floor in a V-shape, and with a barely perceptible gesture of his lips, he invites you to join him and imitate his movements. He bends his body gracefully and at will, and you do your best to keep up as good as you can.

Then, he stands gracefully and offers you his hand, drawing you to his chest.

“Your problem is that you don't trust me. You don't trust that I'm going to hold you when you jump...” You're ready to respond, but your lips seal when he continues. “So we need to fix that.”

The way he says it makes you shudder; you don't want to give in, but you know you have no choice now.

To the beat of the music, Sukuna wraps his hand around your waist and you mimic his steps— circles, one... two... until he stops and asks you to jump, but you hesitate, visibly trembling in his arms.

“Trust me,” he asks you with a serene exhale.

“I can't,” you reply, wetting your dry lips. Sukuna follows each stroke of your tongue before returning to your eyes, where the lashes fuss uneasily.

“You have to trust me as much as I trust you.”

Yet inside you, feelings of doubt and fear linger, like foolish specters whispering in your ear. You feel overwhelmed, not only by the pressure and responsibility on your back but by the closeness of your bodies, there is no space between your chests and if he leans in a little closer you could taste his breath.

“I can't,” you stammer, pulling away from him. “I think it was a bad idea to come,” you admit truthfully, letting your worries slip out loud.

Without you moving further away, his hands hold your wrist firmly making you spin around, and your tiptoed feet respond at once. He holds you still close to him, your back pressed against his chest rocking to the rhythm of the instruments.

“Jump.” Your heart races and you decide to close your eyes to concentrate on the drums pounding against your ribs, on the breath tangling in your lungs. His hands move up and down your waist, go to your ribs where he feels your heaving breath expand his palms. “Take a deep breath,” he speaks sweetly, his breath brushing the shell of your ear. “I'm not going to let you fall this time. I swear.”

You take a deep breath processing the words. could you really trust his promise? You feel his hands come back down to your waist and with the help of his hands exerting pressure, you jump up and he gracefully lifts you above his head. For an instant, you contemplate the city stretching out beneath your feet, like a blanket of light and shadow. Your arms spread like wings, and a spontaneous laugh escapes your lips as the wind caresses your skin. Gently, Sukuna lowers you to the ground once again and you watch a proud smile form on his face. 

Together, the two of you capture the sunset from the terrace, sharing that ephemeral moment in silent complicity.

When you finish practicing about three more times, you find yourself lying on the ground, breathing shakily as you watch the sky dotted with bright spots. Sukuna has disappeared inside his apartment, turning on the lights and returning with a bottle of water that he kindly offers you.

“Thank you,” you say, immediately popping the bottle into your mouth.

“You're not too bad,” Sukuna comments with his usual calmness, though beads of sweat on his forehead betray his exertion. It's obvious why he's Kurogawa's top student.

“I really mean it. Thank you.”

Sukuna averts his gaze for a moment before turning back to you. “Are you going to stay for dinner?” he asks instead.

“I'm fine...,” you reply, finally getting up from the floor and dusting off your clothes with your hands.

“I hope you're eating something better than soda and canned food at that stinky motel.”

You both share a knowing chuckle, your gazes intertwined for a moment.

“No promises,” you say, raising your hands to chest level. “But I have to go now. Thanks for everything, again,” you add, taking another long drink of water.

“Do you need a ride?” offers Sukuna.

“I'll get an uber.”

Sukuna nods, walking you to the door where he waves you off with a friendly smile.

What the hell was that all about? And why are you about to throw up your heart?

Sat. 4/14 • 6:32 pm — 

The second week training with Sukuna has been a revelation. You've gotten used to the smell of fish that you now find less unbearable, to getting up early before the alarm goes off, and you've even gotten used to the horrible oversized uniform you have to wear, but above all, you've gotten used to Sukuna's presence and his training sessions that bring you closer and closer together. Of course, you have improved remarkably. Sukuna is a born teacher and could surpass Kurogawa when he decides to retire. He knows just what to say to make you feel comfortable in your own skin and relax in his arms, which he has succeeded in doing. 

As you get to know him better, you realize that he is not the image you had created in your head. He is considerate and has managed to get you to open up to him a little more, tearing down the shell of animosity you had raised. Before, you were fighting a non-existent battle against him, a fight to be the best that now you only keep against yourself.

With the descent of disdain for him came something more.... Appreciation? Admiration, perhaps? You don't want to acknowledge what that emotion is. For now, you cling to the idea that you can be friends, that you could become good friends in time.

With the practices and the unofficial ones you do with your dance partner, your steps become more natural, loose and fluid. Soon, your movements will resemble those of the fantastic swan you are meant to emulate.

Sukuna spins you around with the climax of the violins resounding above you. Thanks to constant practice on his terrace he manages to lift you into the air with ease, getting you for the first time to not hesitate and leap gracefully into his arms which gets you a round of applause from your colleagues, drawing a proud smile on your face. Your chest is pounding, you feel the excitement in the darkness of the theater and, in a far corner, you can glimpse the ghost of your mother clapping proudly. You were really going to make it. 

Sukuna helps you touch the floor once more, and because of the intimacy required for the final scene, your faces are inches apart. The sound of muffled applause, the circular spotlight that focuses on you exclusively, and the scent of his cologne (a subtle blend of woody and citrus notes that awakens your senses), make the moment far more intimate than the scene requires.

Unsure if this is still part of the performance, Sukuna brushes the tip of his nose against yours before finally pulling away, leaving you drifting beside him and depriving you of his body heat. Slow clapping comes from the background in the gloom, and you walk away from Sukuna taking long strides as if you've been caught committing a crime, your hands sweaty and your stomach clenched.

“That was much better,” Kurogawa says, praising you both, though he looks directly at you. “A wonderful presentation.”

“Thank you,” Sukuna replies, and you feel him tense beside you as he holds the director's gaze that's still resting on you like a predator.

“Though you still have a lot of room for improvement,” Kurogawa says, looking straight at you. Your lips tighten into a straight line, feeling some disappointment in your chest.

“I think she's doing very well,” Sukuna interjects, looking Kurogawa up and down before exhaling like a raging bull. 

Kurogawa watches Sukuna and then clicks his tongue.

“Ryōmen, can you remind me who the director of the ballet is and who is recognized as the best male category ballet dancer in the entire country?” Sukuna falls silent, and you are unable to ignore his clenched jaw. “Sorry, I didn't hear you.”

Sukuna exhales and replies sarcastically. “You are, sir.”

“That's what I thought,” he replies, savoring the victory, still keeping his eyes on you. “So when I say something needs to get better, it's because it's going to get better. You can all go..., my little swan, you stay a few minutes with me, we need to talk.” 

Sukuna's eyes are pulled from the director to fall on you. Under the spotlight you notice his red eyes become darker, dark ink spills into them and at the same time his half closed eyelids give him the aura of a feline. You nod, assuring him wordlessly that you will be fine. 

The room gradually becomes empty, you are the only ones present. Kurogawa tucks himself back into the darkness while you stand under the burning light of the spotlight that seems to glow now brighter than ever. Suddenly, the sound of the piano climbs the walls again and makes your skin tingle. 

“Again,” he orders you. 

Immediately you put your back straight facing the theater seats. Your feet automatically tiptoe, your arms move in the air, move up your body and stop above your head. Your movements are much more fluid and you can feel it; you are more flexible than before or maybe you always have been and all you needed was a little push. A vote of confidence. 

The thought that you will have your little ritual with Sukuna tomorrow (he cooks for you after you help him deliver the fish and after your practice), puts a smile on your face and helps you relax, ignoring the presence of Kurogawa who follows you with his sharp eyes every time you move.

The clacking of his shoe heels tells you he's getting closer, and a subtle sense of dread comes over you as you wonder what Kurogawa might be thinking or planning.

“Are you two dating?” He asks suddenly, wrapping his hands around you behind your back in imitation of the role Sukuna plays. 

"I don't have to justify my personal life, sir." Your reply is quick and sharp, cutting through the awkward tension. 

He laughs dryly. “Because that would be a problem. I wouldn't allow my lead dancers to have an affair, that would be problematic.” He steps closer to you undoing the space between you and grabs your waist from behind, you instantly pull away looking at him with your eyebrows together. “Hold still.” He steps closer again, you take another step back, about to be engulfed by the darkness. 

“Sir...” 

He pauses under the spotlight, his few gray hairs and greasy locks gleaming in the direct brightness. The light highlights the deep lines of his face, accentuating his intense, commanding expression. His piercing gaze seems to cut through you as he calls out your name.

“Come here. Let me show you what you're doing wrong,” Kurogawa says in a tone that combines authority and criticism.

“I think I'm doing a good job,” you insist, trying to maintain your composure.

“Oh, you think Ryōmen is a better teacher than I am? He's been putting ideas into your head?” he asks wryly.

“I mean no disrespect, but...” you start to say, but you're interrupted.

“Girl,” he says with disdain, “Come here.”

“No,” you reply firmly, burying your feet on the stage. 

The director smiles mischievously. “The cat is showing her claws, I see,” he mutters. “You know he's no good for you?” he continues. “So if you're sentimentally involved...I'm afraid I'll have to degrade you both from being the lead dancers.”

You sense that his threats make you feel lightheaded. “You wouldn't do that,” you say with a hint of desperation.

“Be a good girl then.”

“We'll present in exactly two weeks, no one can take my place,” you defend yourself, looking for an excuse that will convince you more than him that he can't do this. 

“Mei-Ling is ready. We've been... practicing,” he says with a lopsided grin that makes you cringe.

“You're disgusting,” you reproach him, unable to keep pretending that standing here in front of him listening to his innuendos doesn't have your body chilling. 

“You have no idea,” Kurogawa replies, widening a mischievous smile. “Now...”

He approaches you with clear intentions of touching you, you look around for something you can defend yourself with or someone who can come to your aid but the room was empty, there was only you there. You keep shuffling your feet until you run into the wall, until the darkness has covered you both and all you can see is his macabre smile. 

Kurogawa reaches out to grab you when Sukuna's voice startles you. He says your name for the first time and you look over the director's shoulder to see him on the other end in casual gray joggers and a white t-shirt. “Is everything okay?” he asks looking directly into your eyes and for a moment it's just the two of you. 

Your voice breaks and you can't answer him, but your desperate look tells him everything he needs to know. 

“This is private training, Ryōmen. You may leave now.” 

Still he pays no heed. He advances towards you with the bag where he kept his clothes hanging from his left shoulder, sukuna stops and plants himself next to you; his arms embrace your shoulders and he sticks you to his body. “Do you wanna leave?” He asks, looking up at you directly. 

“Yes.” You reply without hesitation or pausing to look at the director. 

“Ow look at that? Isn't that romantic?” he laughs dryly, clapping his hands together sarcastically. “Long live lovers, right? From hate to love is only one step, I guess.” 

Sukuna ignores Kurogawa's words, removing his hand from your shoulders to take yours and lead you away. Surprise flashes across your face, but his warm grip turns the initial coldness into a comforting sensation, making your heart race in your chest. You don't resist and squeeze his fingers tightly as you pull away.

The man laughs louder again, turning to look at you just as you reach the small stairs that would lead you off the stage. “Don't even bother coming back, you're fired,” he shouts arrogantly.

You search Sukuna's eyes to make sure he's feeling the same fear you are. For a moment, doubt crosses your eyes and you consider turning around and apologizing as the only option in this situation. But Sukuna avoids your gaze, releasing your hand to address the director.

“If you have something to say, say it now,” Kurogawa spits with a triumphant smile on his face.

Sukuna climbs the stairs again, leaving you paralyzed in the middle of the steps. His movements seem more imposing under the contrasting lights, and as he approaches the principal, you can see Kurogawa's smile widen in pleasure.

Sukuna takes a deep breath, running a hand through his pink hair to pull it back before turning and connecting a closed fist against the director's jaw. Kurogawa falls to the ground, coughing and wiping blood from a split lip. There is hatred and resentment in his eyes as the two men stare at each other for a moment, right before Kurogawa spits out blood mixed with saliva that was pooled in his mouth.

In that moment of tense silence, you stand watching in horror, both hands covering your mouth. Sukuna spits towards the ground and then turns away, wiping his hand and knuckles. He walks past you and with a hand on your lower back, guides you out of there.

“Let's get the hell out of here,” Sukuna mutters.

“Are we just...?” you try to say, but Sukuna interrupts you.

“Are you okay?” he asks with concern. You nod, unable to say much more. “That's all I care about,” Sukuna concludes as you walk away from the place.

You didn't want to go back to the motel. With your dreams crushed so easily in front of you, the last thing you want is to be alone with your self-destructive thoughts and a judgmental memory. The director always seemed a little strange to you and now you tag the way he approaches you as unprofessional but you never thought he could go to the extreme of cornering you like that; however, seeing him lying on the floor, bleeding, brings accusatory thoughts into your head that you want to erase. Your memories betray you showing you more blood than there really was. In his eyes was written pure revenge, you knew that with his influence only one mail was enough to destroy both your career and your life. You don't want to think about the consequences of your actions; at least not tonight, not now. So when Sukuna asks where you want to go and you reply that you don't know, he decides to take matters into his own hands and take you on a bike ride around the city. Neither says anything else and you ask no questions, letting the vibrations of the engine and his body under your fingers make you feel safe.

Your cheek is crushed against his broad back, clinging to his waist as much as you can as you watch the lights of the city and its tall buildings go by like flashes. People come and go and your heart sinks a little in your chest each time Sukuna's fingers roll easily across the throttle. Water pools in your heavy eyelashes and you can't decide if it's from the wind or if it's just sadness and the pile of bitter disappointment you force yourself to swallow.

Sukuna stops at a gas station, you wait leaning against the bike while he pays and buys some sweets that he silently passes to you as an offering. You open the colorful wrapper and pop the chocolate into your mouth, chewing silently as you are distracted by the dust clinging to his boots.

“Do you wanna go to my place?” The question surprises you and his voice invites you to look at him, back to the present. You notice his face and are distracted by the soft pout that forms his lips unconsciously. In the short time you've known each other, you've noticed it's something he does often. A habit.

You assume that you are friends now. You find the situation and the question ironic. If an oracle had told you about eight months ago that you'd be taking bike rides with Sukuna, clinging to his back like a baby koala bear, driving with him every day out of town while jamming karaoke in his fish-smelling truck and hanging out at his apartment, you'd never have believed it. 

Finally, you shake your head in affirmation, taking another bite of the bar.

“I hate that motel,” you confess, covering your mouth.

“I know. It smells like a shoe, I don't know how you can live there.”

You regret letting him into your humble room. Everything was tidy and perfectly sprayed with that green apple spray you depend on so much now, but you still saw him pinching his nose with two fingers and commenting on the stench. You'd complained before, of course, and the owner told you he'd move you to another room as soon as it became available, but now that was the only one you could be in; the room is at the back, next to the laundry room and the damp lurks through the walls, ending up sitting in the middle of your floor.

“Hey!” It really did smell awful, but it wasn't funny when others made fun of it. “It's all I can afford for now. Sorry I'm not rich like you.”

“I thought you were rich,” he says, playing with his bruised knuckles as the numbers on the screen behind him keep going up.

“Not anymore,” you confess, distant memories of your life coming back to you in a flash. “My father refuses to help me with academy expenses, he sees it as a waste of money and time, and I guess he's right. I only have enough to live for two more months there, I was looking forward to the ballet performance but now…” Your voice trails off, unable to finish the sentence.

You notice how he leans over to gently tap you on the shoulder with the same hand that punched Kurogawa earlier.

“We're going to fix it, brat. No long faces while I'm around.”

You contemplate him a while longer in silence as you finish eating the chocolate bar and clench the wrapper in your fist to throw it in the trash when you're at his apartment. Once the tank is full, you roll back down the road and seven minutes later you are in the warmth of his apartment.

You take off your shoes as you enter and head straight to the living room after Sukuna asks you to sit down and he goes straight to the kitchen. You take the opportunity to look at the various photographs on the bluish wall that you have always wanted to see up close but he has never let you: a small Sukuna clutching a baseball bat smiles at the camera, his hair tousled as if it's been a windy day, and his hands tightly wrapped around the bat. There's another where he's with who you assume is his grandfather in front of the restaurant near the academy, clutching a fish that's bigger than both of them which makes you chuckle under your breath. In the last one, there's him and another boy who looks very like him, both wearing thick coats with faux fur edges and looking at the camera with surprised expressions.

“Your brother?” you ask as you hear his bare feet moving across the floor and, turning to face him, you find him with two plates full of sushi rolls in his hands. “Thank you,” you smile at him, sliding onto the couch.

“Be careful not to drip the sauce on my couch, brat,” he jokes. You want to complain about the not-so-pleasant name he calls you by, but you keep silent, hiding the sense of longing that overwhelms you as you want to hear him say your name again. “And my nephew,” he quickly points to the picture before disappearing back into the kitchen. “It was the first time we went to New York.”

You take another quick glance at the picture and grab the wooden chopsticks next to your plate.

“Nephew... So you have siblings?” You ponder, pinching a sushi roll between your chopsticks and bringing it to your mouth, careful at all times not to drop anything on the couch. For how neat the place looks, you know he's not kidding when he warns you that he doesn't want any stains on his couch.

Sukuna returns with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hands, as he carefully sets them on the coffee table.

“I'm not going to drink,” you quickly excuse yourself.

“Come on, let's celebrate that we don't have practice tomorrow.”

His humor helps you cope a little. You press your lips together in a straight line that gradually turns into a sad smile and finally nod, giving your permission for him to pour the white wine for both of you. You grab the glass without further thought and take a long drink, closing your eyes for a moment.

“And... um,” he clears his throat, taking a seat next to you to get ready to eat as well. “I had a brother. I lost him and my parents in an accident when they were on their way from Kyoto to see me dance last year.”

The news makes you frown and you set the cup aside immediately, showing your concern. Sukuna seems immune; anyone who didn't know him would say he's over it, that he doesn't care, but you've learned to see past the mask he usually shows himself to others with. Hesitantly, you put your hand on his leg in comfort and something inside you waits for him to push it away, only it never happens. He looks down at your touch for a moment before returning to your eyes.

“I'm so sorry.”

His shoulders shrug and he finally relaxes. “At least I have my grandfather for now.”

You nod, understanding how bitter the situation is as it's easy to put yourself in his shoes.

“I'm really sorry. I lost my mother too; she had a medical condition that had no cure. Her dream was always to see me dance at a professional academy.”

“Is that why you traveled to Japan?” asks Sukuna before popping a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah. But I guess it doesn't matter now.”

“I told you we're going to fix it,” Sukuna says and now it is him placing his hand on your thigh intimately. You watch as his fingers spread over your skin, noticing the veins running down the back of his hand and the thick tattoos surrounding his skin.

“You punched him in the face,” you look away from his fingers to force yourself to look him in the eyes, both of you sharing a brief chuckle. “How can we fix this?”

Sukuna is no longer touching you and his absence is immediately felt.

“We can report him,” he suggests.

“They won't listen to us,” you reply.

“Not with that attitude.”

You look away from him for a moment, toward your plate and the half-empty cup. You grab it and raise it to your mouth to wet your throat.

“Thank you... for everything,” you say sincerely, swirling the glass so that the liquid spirals against the glass.

“I should never have left you alone,” Sukuna admits.

“But you came back for me. That's the important thing,” you reply, restraining yourself from touching him again. Instead, you take a last sip of wine that serves to drown out thoughts of what would have happened if no one had arrived in time.

With banal conversations filling the space from time to time and laughter over jokes that aren't even that funny; you both finish eating.

With two glasses of wine drunk and now Sukuna pouring a third everything seems funnier than usual. The sting of the pain of having lost everything you've built is buried there waiting to make you ache and although you know Sukuna feels it too, he manages to disguise it very well, spending all his energies on making your night.

“Stop it,” you tell him with a laugh, squinting to fix your eyes closely on his face. “You've got something there.” You point to a part of your own cheek with a finger, smoothing the skin and wiggling your fingers for him to do the same.

“Where?” he asks, pulling his eyebrows together, touching the wrong part of his face.

“Look, here!” you point to your cheek again with more emphasis, but he still misses.

“Wipe it off for me. What is it?”

“It's just soy sauce, you messed it up more.”

You lean a little closer to wipe the sauce stain next to his nose, carefully rubbing the skin by moving your thumb over it until it's clean. You smile at him, you just need to wash your face now, as you turn your attention back to him you realize he is blatantly looking at your lips.

“Later,” he says softly, licking his lips slowly and alarms go off in your brain.

“It'll get sticky if you don't go,” you reply mimicking his tone, struggling not to notice his mouth and how close you are.

Sukuna slowly makes himself move his gaze from your mouth to your eyes. Still close, you can notice the alcohol on his breath, his scent of cologne tickling your stomach.

“I never understood why you disliked me so much,” he blurts out suddenly, almost in a whisper.

“Are you serious?” you pull away before you do something you shouldn't, the tingling sensation of alcohol probably making you see things that aren't there. “Everything you talked about me?” He arches an eyebrow, showing confusion. “You were saying I should go back to my country...”

“Yeah, because you were saying I had no talent. And who did you think you were?” he defends himself, getting defensive. With that expression that he instantly erases almost makes you remember the Sukuna from the past.

“I never said that.” You defend yourself.

Silently, you both let the weight of realization sink in, sharing a silent stare.

“Kurogawa.” You respond in unison.

“Fuck him,” Sukuna says through gritted teeth. You want to reproach him, but honestly?

“Yeah, fuck him.” Then you both laugh.

Silence reigns between you again, squeezing like an intruder between the little space that separates your bodies on the couch. 

“Are you staying the night?” Sukuna suddenly blurts out, giving you a sideways glance.

“Um, no?” That makes him look at you completely, analyzing you as if you've just said something barbaric.

“I can't ride like this,” he comments with obviousness.

“That's fine, I'll get an uber.”

“I don't trust an uber to send you like that.”

You don't trust yourself around him, you don't trust what your numb senses can do or say, so the farther away you are from him, the better it is for both of you.

“Like what? I'm almost sober,” you say, squeezing a space with your index finger and thumb leaving a small gap in between. “Besides... I know how to defend myself.” To reaffirm your sentence and validate your sobriety, you stand up to take a brief turn but fate is ironic and trips you over your own feet; in an instant your mouth is about to kiss the ground. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut, preparing to receive a stinging pain that never comes, instead, you are welcomed into an embrace that fills you with security.

“Fuck. You're so drunk,” Sukuna says with a laugh, helping you to your feet.

You open one eye. “Sorry, I don't usually drink.” You close it again, massaging with your fingers the sudden dizziness that squeezes your temples. “Maybe I am a little dizzy.”

“I can tell that,” he says. “You should have told me.”

“Um, I did.” You open your eyes now realizing how intimate you are. Your open palms on his chest rise and fall with his agitated exhale and the tension weighs heavy. His hands are on your lower back in a sort of embrace that holds you close to him and keeps you from running away, and you wouldn't even if you could. You hear your own breathing quicken in your ears, and without thinking, you lean in to kiss him but Sukuna lifts his chin avoiding you and kissing your forehead instead.

“Come on, I'll take you to bed.”

Sat. 4/15 • -:- am— 

You wake up with a slight headache pulsing in your temples and the sharp spicy smell of a perfume you don't recognize as your own. Still with your eyes closed, you turn your body to reach for the phone on the bedside table, you stretch your fingers in search of it, but your hands can't seem to find the nightstand, so you struggle to blink slowly and finally open your eyes completely. The unusual darkness confuses you a bit and makes you wonder what time it is; the sun should be penetrating the motel windows intensely at this hour, so you curiously sit up in bed. You look for your phone under the pillow, between the sheets and in every nook and cranny your hands can reach on the mattress.

It is at that moment when you notice the different color of the sheets and the four pillows around you, making you realize that this is not your bed, nor is this your room. Looking at your legs you realize that you are still dressed in last night's clothes, then you remember Sukuna. Your eyes scan the room in the absence of light — were you in his room or maybe he had another guest room? You pull the sheet off your legs and head to the window to open the black curtains and let the sun finish waking you up.

The lively view of the city greets you from below, cars come and go on the fast moving highway. With the help of the light now illuminating every corner, you take another look at the room and find out that this was probably his: the space is spacious and modern, following the same style as the living room with a minimalist decoration. The walls are a light gray and in front of the bed there is an elegant glass desk with an office chair. On top of the desk, there is a closed laptop and some tidy papers. 

The bed is bigger than the one in the motel and is covered with black sheets, next to it a closet with the doors made of a mirror in which you see yourself perfectly reflected, you try to fix your hair as much as you can in case you find him when you go out looking for your phone, but by the prevailing silence makes you aware that Sukuna was probably not at home. 

You find your phone on the floor near the couch. At the memory that it must have slipped out of your pocket when you almost fell last night just to then try to kiss Sukuna, your body burns with embarrassment. Unlocking the screen and looking at the time you find a message from Sukuna and missed calls from your father and group of friends. Shit, you totally forgot them.

R. SUKUNA: If you wake up and I'm not here, take a shower, there are headache pills in the desk drawer and eat something. If you decide to take a bath, use something from my closet. I'm visiting my grandpa, I'll be back in about an hour. :)

Checking the time, you realize that the message was sent half an hour ago so you still had time to be alone and clear your thoughts before he returned. After how absurd you acted last night, you don't want to see him today, not in a few weeks maybe. You don't have the courage to look him in the face, especially after he walked away, making it clear to you where he stood with you.

You return to the room with the phone in your hand and a glass of water you quickly grabbed from the kitchen. You open the first drawer and search for the pills you need stumbling upon some personal items, including two small square wrappers of different texture and metallic blue color. Before an unwanted idea can germinate in your mind, you push the condoms aside and take the pill, drinking every last drop from the glass.

You are determined to leave and escape from him, but the sweat from the previous day clings to your body and you refuse to go out like this. You quickly duck into the familiar bathroom and take a quick shower without getting your hair wet this time, opting only to pull it up in a simple bun and wear the same clothes from the day before. You exit the bathroom determined to take refuge in the motel, walking straight to the front door.

“Good morning.” His voice makes you yelp. You put one hand on your chest and one on your mouth, looking him up and down as if you've seen a ghost, and he has the audacity to laugh.

Sukuna looks fresh, as if he's had a good night's sleep and just got out of the shower. He's wearing a light blue short-sleeved sweater and black sweatpants; the baseball cap covering part of his face makes him look much younger.

“Did you sleep well?” Sukuna speaks again and you hope he didn't notice you looking him up and down.

“Yes, thank you. I had a bit of a headache, but I'm better now. we...?” We sleep together. It's the sentence you don't get to finish.

“The couch is more comfortable than it looks.” He gives you another brief grin and your heart flips.

“I'm so sorry about yesterday.”

You both know what you mean, so neither of you decides to delve into it. He downplays it with a wave of his hand, and you appreciate his friendship now more than ever, so you let that memory die.

“You were drunk...” he excuses you before you have a chance to. 

“Of course, I never...” you stop, unable to finish the sentence.

“I know.”

“How's your grandfather?” you ask him, quickly changing the subject, struggling not to notice the tattoo peeking through the opening near his neck.

“He's much better, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” you say sincerely, forcing yourself to swallow the guilt that's weighing you down inside. He's showing his most vulnerable side with you, and all you can think about is how much you want to kiss his neck.

“There's just one little problem.”

Your eyes narrow and you take a step forward, paying more attention this time. “What's wrong?” you inquire with genuine concern.

“He wants to meet my girlfriend.”

"Oh." You blink slowly, your lips opening and closing as you choose your next words carefully. “You have a girlfriend.” It's a statement. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

“That's where you come in.”

“Excuse me?”

“He always insists that he doesn't like me being alone, that I should focus on other things than taking care of him and the restaurant. To put his mind at ease, I told him I have a girlfriend, I just didn't count on him asking me to meet her. I can only rely on you for that.”

You're flattered, but it's still not enough to hide the fact: “So you lied to him.” You ponder, processing all the information he's blurted out to you.

“Um, no. I'm going to get one, just not now. I'm not sure how long I'll be able to keep him with me and I didn't want to disappoint him.”

You nod slowly. “So, you want us to go visit him?”

“Yes, just once or twice.”

“And for me to act like I'm your girlfriend?”

“Yup.”

You sigh deeply, you massage your eyes with the palm of your hand trying to run away at least for a second from his presence and the effect he has on you; you don't want to keep looking at him and keep thinking about what he is making you feel inside because, what was all that? Sukuna was. your. friend. Why couldn't your hormones understand that and why did you suddenly feel like you would burst if he ever touched you? You finally open your eyes, nod.

“Yeah, okay. I'll help you.”

You don't think about the implications of this, you don't think about the fact that pretending to be his girlfriend makes your heart gallop fast against your ribs when it shouldn't. This is nothing more than an act of good faith, you're just helping a friend. You refuse to consider that you might have to hold his hand, and even the idea of having to kiss him is possible in some scenario.

It's the first time in years that you realize you don't remember the last time you kissed someone. You've been so focused on working, improving and becoming a better dancer every day that you don't remember the last time you had romantic or sexual contact with someone, and you're definitely not ready for Sukuna to be your first.

“I have to go now.”

You have a lot to process.

“Stay for breakfast,” he suggests with that lopsided grimace of his, the one where he doesn't show his teeth but could make you sign a deal with the devil if he wanted to. You have to grip your bag tighter so you don't reach out and touch the inky flash that winks at you again.

“See you later!” you say instead, running for the door.

You don't stop to wait for an answer because you know he would change your mind because that's what he always does (get his way), make you stay and confuse you even more. You pull out your phone and call for an Uber back to the discomfort of your bed, where you can be away from the effect he has on you.

Thurs. 5/10 • 

Meeting Hiroshi in person after hearing so much about him makes you feel like you've already known him for a long time. The smile spreads on his face like ink on water when he sees you, and it's already second nature for him to call you “daughter” as he grabs your hand and cheeks affectionately; he really likes you and you like him back.

Accompanied by Sukuna holding your hand, you always bring him flowers or fruits and listen attentively as Sukuna reads to him and tells him how business is going at the restaurant, while he nods. In a way, he reminds you of your own grandfather; a man just as sweet and hardworking. Seeing this new side of Sukuna is certainly different and addictive. The patient way he talks to his grandfather makes you look at him with admiring eyes; he seems like a totally different man. You have been accompanying him for the last three visits and seeing him spending so much time with his grandfather is becoming a regular habit.

On one of these visits you bump into someone you had seen before in one of the photographs he has hanging in his apartment. Yuuji, much older, much more adult, smiles at you and has the same cheerful expression as his grandfather; he is a boy full of energy who squeezes your hand and shakes it energetically the first time you meet him. He looks a lot like Sukuna and it is impossible for you not to make the internal comparison of how different they are despite being so physically similar. 

On Monday after visiting Hiroshi, exchanging the flowers for new ones and making sure he was enjoying his favorite meal, Yuuji, who was already at the hospital when you got there, invites you over for dinner as a sweet gesture to get to know you better.

The restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital is crowded with people, brimming with a cozy, family atmosphere with polished wooden tables and delicate white tablecloths. The soft murmur of family conversations intermingles with the tantalizing aroma of dishes wafting from the kitchen and traditional music in the background.

“I never thought I'd see Uncle Sukuna with a girlfriend,” Yuuji confesses as he rolls noodles on his chopsticks and brings them to his mouth.

“Hey,” Sukuna growls, finishing the sake in one gulp. “Don't disrespect your uncle.”

“It's not that,” Yuuji laughs.“It's just that you're always so secretive, and after what happened with Dad... but I'm happy for both of you.”He looks at you briefly now as he shakes his head slowly.

Your body twitches softly at the surprise of feeling Sukuna curling his fingers with yours on top of the table. His thumb caresses the back of your hand, and butterflies flutter inside you at the sight of this affectionate gesture, though you quickly remember that it's all part of the act. Getting caught up in the moment and excusing yourself to your inner judge, you gently squeeze his hand, reminding yourself to maintain the role of girlfriend.

As you enjoy dinner, you and Sukuna chat animatedly, sharing anecdotes about Hiroshi, the origin of the restaurant's peculiar name, and Yuuji's antics as a child. The vibe in the restaurant is permeated with warmth and energy, with the bustle of the other tables and the comforting aroma of ramen wafting through the air.

At the end of the meal, Yuuji bids the two of you goodbye with a hug, explaining that he must go elsewhere but that he hopes you will have a second date together.

As soon as he makes sure Yuuji has left the restaurant, Sukuna looks at you with a soft smile. “Thank you for joining me tonight. I know this isn't part of your commitment as a 'fake girlfriend'.”

You smile back, still feeling the warmth of his finger on your skin. “Thank you for letting me meet your grandpa, he's an amazing person, and your nephew is really adorable.”

Sukuna nods, his eyes shining with something you can't decipher. “I know Yuuji really likes you too. I think he likes you more than me.”

You giggle softly, recognizing that this encounter has brought you closer to Sukuna. Meeting one of the most important pillars of his life, along with his nephew, who is practically the only close family he has left, makes you feel lucky to be able to witness this more intimate side of him. You just hope that, when all is said and done and they both realize that you're just his friend they'll still continue to accept you and treat you with the affection that has characterized them so far.

“Maybe I should go back to the motel. It's getting late,” you say, bursting the bubble that had enveloped you out of reality. Being away from him was the last thing you wanted right now, but you needed to remind yourself from time to time that this was not part of your current life.

At that moment, he gently withdraws his fingers from yours and nods with a tense line on his lips.

“Sure. Join me for a smoke first.”

After paying the bill and leaving the restaurant, you both walk to the back with Sukuna gently tugging on your hand, still engaged in an act that should only happen when Yuuji or his grandfather are around. Surrounding you, a few people congregate to talk and share a cigarette.

Sukuna brings the cigarette to his mouth and you help him shield it with your hands as he tilts his head slightly to avoid the wind. The cigarette lights up as he inhales and exhales slowly through his nose, keeping his gaze fixed on you the whole time. He is leaning against the wall and you are close by, standing between his spread legs.

“I'll probably have to go home soon..., my real home, I mean,” you tell him suddenly, preferring to watch the people walking in and out of the parking lot instead of paying attention to him.

“Is it the money?”

You nod still without glancing at him. “I can't wait for it to be over, I already talked to my dad and he also thinks it's for the best.”

Sukuna is silent as he takes another puff and exhales just in time for when you turn back to look at him.

“I've been requesting a recommendation letter for you for another academy. I filed an official report against Kurogawa and we have witnesses, people who had made accusations before but had never filed an official report.”

His name brings back bitter memories that dissolve in the smoke and stale smell of the cigarette.

“I'm going to testify too.” Your voice surprises you as much as it seems to surprise Sukuna, who looks you up and down with curious eyes.

“Fine. I'll be with you.”

“Why didn't you tell me before?”

“I wanted to be sure, I didn't want to get your hopes up.” His eyes turn soft and you can see in them the same shadow that was in them that time in his apartment. He was looking at your lips just like now and he didn't seem to mind hiding it. “You look beautiful, by the way. Yuuji kept looking at you.”

You smile, glancing down at the teal dress you decided to wear that night.

“You don't look bad yourself,” you tell him, touching your fingertips to the oversized wool coat he was wearing. Sukuna follows your fingers as they stumble over the black buttons and away from his body. His eyes follow your hands that stay still on either side of your body and then they return to your face, momentarily checking your mouth.

“Wanna try?” he asks, raising the cigarette to your eye level.

“I've never smoked,” you confess.

“That wasn't my question.” He bites his lip, followed by the tip of his pink tongue moistening his lower lip gently. “You want me to guide you?”

“...Yes.”

“Open your mouth,” his voice comes out quick, eager and sharp almost like yours. His words guide you as you part your lips just enough for him to place the cigarette between them. But instead, Sukuna pulls you closer into him gently squeezing your waist as he exhales smoke into your half-open lips. “Swallow a little bit and then exhale,” he gently commands you. “Don't let it go down your throat.”

You follow his instructions without complaint, holding the smoke for a moment in your mouth before releasing it. The taste of ash floods your palate for a moment, a smell you find unbearable and yet.... “More,” you find yourself asking, rising on tiptoe to reach for the cigarette yourself.

You're sure you're not asking for more of the cigarette, you're asking for more of him. Of the brief touch you get from his unfriendly hands on your body, more of his perfume lulling your senses, more of his closeness. 

His fingers leave your lower back to climb up to your jaw keeping you steady, still and trapped as he exhales a second puff between your parted lips. Your heart flips but you manage to repeat the action of inhaling and exhaling without coughing, and as he prepares to do it a third time without you asking, your noses collide in the darkness of your closed eyes; his lips brush yours for an electric instant, and you feel his fingers clinging tighter to your jaw: breathing out. 

“My God...you,” you stand still, feeling yourself burn inside as his warm breath seeps into you once more. “If you don't stop me, I will do something I will regret.” His words are a threat brushing your tongue. 

Your foreheads meet and rest against each other, fingers guided by desire slipping under his coat where you cling to his shirt ruffling the fabric. You close your eyes waiting to feel him, that first real contact, charged with sparkle and fireworks. You tilt your neck back, giving him the access he needs to take you.

“I'm not going to stop you,” you gasp, pushing closer.

Sukuna growls like an animal, immediately replacing his grip with his lips on your jaw; barely perceptibly grazing the flesh and bringing tickles to your insides. Then he moves slowly up to your ear, outlining the jaw bone with his mouth and staying still behind the shell of your ear, simply breathing warm air.

“We're in public,” he reminds you, and you squeeze your eyes shut. Charged with a bravery that is uncharacteristic of you, you reach your hand toward his crotch, feeling the bulge that is evident through his pants.

“Then let's go somewhere more private.”

Sukuna grunts once more, hunching towards you in such a way that it appears as if he is hugging you. His hands slide down your back until they reach your ass and squeeze it, the people around you startle you but the feeling lasts a moment before you turn your attention back to him and the plea that seems to spill from his throat. 

“What have you done to me?” he utters your name as if you were a divine being and he is a mere servant. Your hand, gaining confidence, presses harder on his erection. “I want to slowly peel off your clothes, worship every inch of your body. Kiss every spot, every mole.”

He abandons the comfort of your ear to move to your neck, where you sense his breath as he subtly pushes his hips against your open palm. It's embarrassing to be doing this in public. His coat and the shadows of the night help hide the scene, but if someone were to discover you, you could get in trouble.

“Tell me you need it too,” he whispers against your throat on the verge of losing his temper and pressing his nose, his eager mouth clinging to your skin; sucking. “Tell me you feel the fire in your chest too,” he gasps, his teeth grazing a little harder.

“Fuck. I feel it. I've wanted to say it for a long time, but I was afraid you wouldn't feel the same,” you lick your lips. “That night when I tried to kiss you...”

“You were drunk,” he interrupts you. “I didn't want you to regret it the next day.” Sukuna reluctantly pulls away to admire you with dilated pupils and parted lips. “But you have no idea how much I've had to restrain myself to act just like a friend.” He examines you up and down. “Let's go to my apartment.”

Holding hands and with feelings running high, you move quickly into the parking lot to find the bike parked a few feet from where you were. Sukuna just lets you go to put the helmet around your head and then proceeds to put his on and without another thought you set off on the road. The cool night air immediately envelops you, the edge of your dress flaps against your thighs thanks to the speed at how fast he was going, almost as quickly as your heart beats in your chest. For you, there's a mixture of excitement and nervousness, a sense of disbelief mixed with anticipation. You can't stop thinking about what just happened, what you've wanted to occur for months and what might happen now.

The drive back to his apartment is fraught with sexual tension. The speed, the wind in your faces and the physical proximity keeps you on edge, your fingers run up and down his chest under his coat, impatient up and down patterns reminding him how close you are. 

As you reach the apartment the palpable excitement between you and Sukuna intensifies. You both quickly slide off the bike, and holding hands take the elevator to his floor. Neither of you say anything until you reach the quiet of his place, interrupted by the hitching of breaths.

Sukuna steps forward and sits on the couch that is now so familiar to you, his eager but controlled expression blurring in the gloom that dances in the living room. From there, he calls your name softly, his voice laden with restrained emotion. The atmosphere in the apartment seems charged with electricity as you approach him, your heart pounding in your chest.

As you get closer, Sukuna watches you carefully, his eyes roaming over every part of you with admiration and desire. 

“Take off your dress,” he says hoarse with lust.  

Without thinking you grab the edge of the dress, slip it over your head and pull it aside to be left with only the underwear you have chosen for the night. As you move forward and are finally in the middle of his spread knees Sukuna grabs your hips and helps you to sit on his lap. The grip on your hips firms and hardens, he takes it upon himself to rub your covered core against the wideness of his thigh and short moans of pleasure take over your mouth.

“Keep riding my thigh. Slowly. Feel that pussy get wet for me, feel it ache,” he indicates, releasing your hips to then worship your thighs up and down. 

Oh. It was aching, you want to tell him. Everything inside you was doing it, burning with need every muscle, every vein. Your legs from the posture, your pussy from need and your tight belly begging for a release but instead you stand quietly contemplating with your mouth open the way, after removing his coat, he undresses the buttons of the sweater one by one finally satiating your curiosity by revealing the tattoo underneath. 

More black marks. They draw you in and invite you to touch them, thick ink-filled lines that you trace under your fingers start at his chest, cross between the line that joins his shoulder and neck and disappear behind along his back. Puzzled you stare at him some more, losing yourself in his eyes as you rise to look at him; he looks still, pleased that you are touching him as if he were art. 

“Did they hurt?” you wonder with a bit of naiveté. 

Sukuna cradles your breasts gently above the fabric of your bra, he seizes the moment to tug on your nipples hard, getting you to moan. 

“They hurt a lot,” he confesses quietly, in a low tone of voice that plays it down. 

You continue tracing the canvas that is his skin, moving down his abdomen until you stumble upon the belt that holds his pants in place. Briefly you check his eyes, hoping they tell you something more than the lust that seems to flood them.

“Why did you decide to get tattooed then?” 

Sukuna catches your gaze silently, his fingers snaking around your belly, walking up to stop in the middle of your thighs and through your panties he strokes your clit with three fingers. 

“We all have to endure a little pain sometimes, don't we?” 

It feels so intimate the way he talks to you, the way he looks at you. When he roams your body with his gaze you can't help but feel small. You rub against his fingers, push and circle them helping him get to know your body better, listening to your broken gasps, showing him exactly where it makes you feel good. 

“I want to suck your cock,” you confess as you reach down to undo his belt. There was no shame binding you now, only a raw desire that longs to be unleashed. 

He smiles pleased with the change in attitude, and silently pushes your hips up to help you remove his pants leaving him alone in a pair of boxers which you soon pull down leaving them tangled midway down his thighs. Sukuna then pulls you off his lap and places you on the side of the couch where he instructs you to spread your legs for him thus getting easy access between your thighs. 

As Sukuna continues to give attention to your pussy, you contemplate how hard he is: more than big it was thick, with the tip of an angry pink throbbing just below your mouth. It had been years since you had last given oral sex to someone, your last few encounters were nothing more than a monotonous thrusting and pulling out where you ended up with the guy cumming on your lower back or stomach; you never felt like sucking their cock but with sukuna it's different. With him everything is. 

“It's been a long time since I've... you know,” you confess, holding back a nervous giggle. 

From below you raise your gaze to lace it to his eyes that receive you slightly closed, sharing a guilty smirk that he wipes away as he bites his lip. 

“You're doing a very good job,” he praises you. And his fingers tossing the edge of your panties aside leaves you breathless for a second, your lip quivering receiving his fingers inside you. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to, though.” 

His words cause you to twitch around two fingers pushing and massaging your pussy. So deep, so slow, he synchronizes his thrusts with the way your lips close around the head of his cock; his movements are precise as if he's searching for something inside you, in, out and then he pulls them all the way out to make you cum as he rubs your clit hard and talks dirty to you. 

Sukuna praises you sweetly as you sob his choked name against his thigh, his caresses surround your now sensitive clit and every time he touches it you find it impossible not to shudder. Then he grabs you by the face and kisses you on the forehead and holding your hand helps you up to guide you to his room that you already knew.

The lamps are off and the only light coming in is through the open window, the curtain ruffles softly in the cool spring breeze sending sudden chills down your bare skin. Sukuna instructs you to lie face down on the bed and you do so as he goes to another side of the room. The mirror you saw earlier shows you your half naked body under the swirling shadows and the masculine scent permeating his sheets makes you sigh deeply. 

The bed sinks with his weight, the mattress groans as he digs his knees into it and positions himself behind you, your ass rising almost without your permission, eager with anticipation. 

“You want to fuck me like this?” you throw your head back to catch him putting on the condom, one of the blue wrappers you saw before is now off to the side near your feet. 

“Fuck yeah. Just lay back, you work so hard...” He snaps, spitting on his wrapped cock and giving it a couple of strokes before spreading your ass cheeks apart. “You want it like this, want me to work to make you feel good?”

“Yes,” you sigh, watching every glimpse that the dim light allows you of his body in the big mirror. 

Slowly he sinks into you and you take it in with a deep moan. “That's it,” Sukuna murmurs, resting his hands on your lower back, initiating gentle thrusts that have your body rocking against the sheets.

Sometimes you feel him so deep you call his name, drunk with pleasure, you hope he understands you're begging him to keep going because you can't speak. Your mind is filled with him, his natural scent on the sheets, the smell of his sweaty perfume, his chest heavy against your back sinking you a little deeper into the mattress. 

“Do you want to fuck yourself a little on my cock?” He says, gently circling your neck with his fingers without actually exerting any real pressure, with his free hand he stimulates your clit and your back arches right away. “Push your ass back, that's it...” 

“I'm gonna cum...” you warn him, gasping with your mouth open, blinking rapidly so as not to lose sight of your bodies reflected in the mirror, fitting together perfectly as they do when dancing.

Your orgasm was still making you shiver the moment he turns you around so that you are facing each other. Sukuna is grinning showing you his sharp fangs, bringing your hands above your head and clasping his fingers between yours he starts fucking you again, your legs on his broad shoulders, his mouth just inches from you. 

“Hi,” he says giggling breathlessly and it catches you immediately. “You look so beautiful now, you look gorgeous when you cum for me...”

His thrusts become deeper, your skins echoing each time they meet. 

“Ryōmen...”

“I know, baby. I feel it too... Do you want me to cum inside?” You nod drunkenly with pleasure, unable to stop staring into those deep red eyes, his lashes fluttering and you notice his jaw tightening. “Yeah? You want to feel my thick load creaming that pussy?” he says, through clenched teeth.

“Yes, oh my god, please.” 

Your fingers run down your stomach and down between your thighs, your fingers graze your clit once giving you the final push you need to cum a third time. 

“Next time we'll do it raw, baby. I promise, but take it like this now, hm; cum for me.”

Your body tenses, your belly tightens in anticipation as Sukuna finally joins his lips with yours. The sensation is electric, as if a current of desire runs through every fiber of your being. Your lips meet in an eager, fiery kiss, where Sukuna sucks your tongue greedily and bites your lower lip with unbridled passion.

The intensity is almost obscene, each movement making you moan softly. Your legs tremble, but his weight on you only fuels the growing fire in your belly. Though your body aches in this position, you can't stop; the kiss is addictive, a whirlwind of sensations that far exceeds your deepest desires. It is far more than any subtle fantasy you have allowed yourself to imagine.

Sukuna leans closer, his hands caressing your face tenderly as his lips explore yours with passionate urgency. The room fills with the sound of your ragged breathing, swallowing each of the growls he lets die in your mouth. 

. . . Slowly he pulls out of you, then rushes to throw the condom away in a basket by the desk. Your aching body turns to admire his broad back and gaze at the ink stains on it in the poor light.

With a simple “I'll be right back,” he leaves you waiting naked between the sheets your fingers stretch to gather and tuck you in. Before you can allow feelings of guilt or doubt to arise, Sukuna returns to the bed with a bottle of water that he offers you to drink. You immediately bring it to your mouth as he lies down next to you, one hand behind his head and the other resting on his tummy. 

You snuggle close to him and Sukuna immediately wraps his arms around you, drawing you into his warm body.

“That was amazing,” you admit, as your fingers trace figures on his chest. However, Sukuna senses how you suddenly tense up.

“What's wrong?” he asks you with a frown.

“I was thinking about what's going to happen to us now,” you mutter, averting your gaze.

“I like you,” he says, as if it hasn't been clear until now. “I want you to be my girlfriend, for real this time,” you both chuckle lightly, and you raise your face to stare at him for a moment, a smile spreading across your lips.

“I like you too,” you admit with a hot face, surprised to admit it out loud; you never thought this moment would come, the odds of ending up in love with Sukuna were low, almost nil. And yet, here you are.

“Good. Then we have no more questions,” he leans in for a fleeting kiss on your lips, awakening a dormant volcano in your belly. “I have to go visit my grandfather tomorrow, do you wanna grab lunch when I'm done?”

“Is it okay if I come with you?”

“Of course. You know we love having you around,” he says, struggling to hold back another smile.

"Does that mean that if I'm your girlfriend now I won't have to help you lift the fish boxes anymore?" you joke, and he drops his head back laughing softly. You look at him in awe, you never thought you could like him any more than you already did, but having him like this, so close, so vulnerable, makes your heart race.

You want to kiss him again, to sit on his lap and take control this time, but you bite your lip instead, letting out a smile.

“You're definitely going to have to help me more at the restaurant now that you're my girl.”

My girl. You feel like you might burst.

“And what about my dad? I already told him I'd go back to my country.”

“Nah. I'm not going to let you get away so easily, you're mine now. You're exactly where you belong.”

And Sukuna was right. Here you feel good, safe, despite the struggles you will face you know you can get through it together. So you lean in and kiss him again, and again and again; you would have all night and many more because now you were his and he was yours.

Thank you for reading! reblogs & comments are greatly appreciated ♡

I don't do parts two! ⟡ I do not allow repost (do not translate or copy elsewhere), please do not recommend my work on tiktok.

[cheriladycl01]

And who are you? - Oscar Piastri x McLarenHeir! Reader

Plot: Granddaughter of Bruce McLaren comes to a race.

Credit to u-u-piastri81 for the GIF

Warning: I think maybe some people have considered this a little misogynistic. Obviously women in motorsport has improved and gotten better, but there are still issues involving this and I just wanted to bring some of them to light. I never meant to cause offence so here’s a little warning for that if it not for you!

Again this is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent anyone accurately!

You were the grand-daughter of one of the most iconic men in Formula One. Not only did he have his own team, but he drove for that team as well which resulted in McLaren sports cars all over the world.

When Zac offered you to come to a grand prix, everyone in the team was dreading it. From what they knew you were just another social media girlie obsessed with getting into an F1 race for the clout. However they were oh so wrong.

You'd been karting since a young age, and knew your way around all kind of cars. You were an encyclopedia of everything motorsport and cars. You'd gone to university and studied engineering so you knew more about it all so you were excited to speak to everyone.

You pulled up in your one of a kind McLaren X-FM, perks of sharing a last name with a car and having big stakes in the business.

"Zac!" you exclaimed as you saw him and run over to him. You pull him in for a tight hug and he hugs you back.

"How's my best girl doing?" he grins looking down at you and you nod furiously. You talk for a little longer before he leads you into the garage.

"Dude what are they all hovering around!" Lando asks looking at 9 or 10 of the drivers stood around something. Lando and Oscar walk over to see the most beautiful orange car in the parking lot. It wasn't rare to see beautiful cars at the grand prix because of all the drivers that were there but this was next level.

"Lando did you get a new car?" Carlos asks in awe, elbowing his friend.

"No, I wish this was my car!" Lando sighs running his hand along the edge.

"Oh my gosh, please please be careful if your touching my car!" you cry running over to all the drivers, you'd forgotten your bag of gifts for the team and drivers and came back to get them.

"T-this is your car?" Lewis asks in shock.

"Yes?" you say holding up the keys and opening the door, Charles looking at Lewis in shock.

"Can i sit in it?" Pierre asks looking at you with a grin.

All the drivers weren't only in awe of their car but the girl that had just come running up asking them to be careful of the car.

"Sure..." you say and let him open the door.

"Lando Oscar! It's great to finally meet you!" you smile, your bubbly friendly nature pulling them in for a joint hug. You watch behind them as drivers look inside the car and switch out whose sat in the drivers seat.

"And who are you?" Oscar asks crossing his arms over his chest, not looking to impressed at the current moment.

"Oh my names Y/N! I'm a guest of McLaren today!" you smile, and everyone there just fell in love with you even more.

"Wait... i know you. You're Y/N McLaren!" Max grins, and you look down with a blush.

"Wait ... you're Bruce McLaren's grand-daughter?" Carlos asks looking you up and down, and he was starting to realize Max was right. Your New Zealand accent being the biggest give away.

"Wait, so you like own the company?" Lando asks with a shocked look. You giggle a little before shaking your head.

"No, I have shares in it but I have to be 25 before the transaction occurs...!" you explain and he nods looking over you.

"I can't believe your here, that's kinda crazy! Why have you never come to a race before?" Logan asks kindly and you look down sadly.

"Bad memories for mum, wasn't allowed to go to one until I was 18 but by the time I was I was in university studying" you answer and they all nod, knowing how hard it must have been on your mum.

"What did you study?" Charles asks as his head pops up from hanging into the window on the other side.

"Engineering, your routes will always find a way back!" you grin.

"Oooo that reminds me!" you start to say as you open the passenger side door, it flicking up into the air as you pull the seat forward to get the bags out the back. They were neatly wrapped gift bags in the specific McLaren shade with little white bows.

"One for you!" you smile handing Lando the first bag.

"And one for you!" you grin handing another bag to Oscar!

"I erm need to get back to the garage I have so many questions for the engineers and the mechanics and I don't want to take up more of their time! So ..." you nod towards Carlos who was currently having a feel around in the car.

"Ah yes, I am very sorry!" he smiles getting out. You smile and lock the car before running back off towards the paddock entrance.

"She is nothing like I expected her to be when we first saw her!" Max smiles, liking your vibes.

"I don't like her!" Oscar declares and everyone's head snaps towards him.

"What do you mean you don't like her, she literally WHAT?" Lando almost laughs, looking at his friend and teammate.

"She's too nice... and like ickily perfect" Oscar frowns watching as she bumps into someone just inside the gates of the paddock apologizing profusely.

"Ickily perfect? Is ickily even a word?" Logan asks with a frown.

"No, but that is the only way i can describe it... there's something off!" Oscar declares.

"Mate come on, she gave us gifts and she let everyone look at her cool car ... just because you had one bad celebrity experience here doesn't mean they are all like that!" Lando sighs, before nodding for them all to leave and get to where they need to be in the garage.

"Guys I'm back!" you smile and all the mechanics and engineers look happy to see you.

"Here's my gift to the team!" you say starting to pull out all the baked goods you'd made for them earlier in the day. Brownies, cake ... you name it and it was there.

"Oh thanks Y/N!" one of them says jogging over, he takes a brownie and seconds later groans at the incredible taste that he's being welcomed with.

"So can i ask you a few questions about the suspension of the car?" you ask and he looks shocked for a second before nodding and wiping his mouth clean.

You chat with him for what seemed like ages, talking about the car and the improvements made since the last race and gradually more engineers had started to join in the conversation.

There was a group of people around you as you observed the car, close but not too close that you or McLaren would be fined, just observing the raw mechanics and engineering that went behind it. You pointed out certain things and sometimes it was just observation rather than questions.

"See!" Lando smirks towards Oscar after having watched you talk to the team for a few minutes.

"Okay so she's smart too and is actually interested in the cars ... but that doesn't change my opinion!" Oscar whispers to Lando. He was watching you animatedly talk to the engineers about the car, questioning where they felt the car was at this weekend.

“Dude … come on! What is it about her you don’t like? She’s basically our boss …” Lando explains before turning left and seeing the sweet treats you’d brought in.

“Look she even brought treats … that she baked these herself and wrote a little note for the team with a smiley face and heart … how … can you NOT like her” Lando cries a little too loudly making your head whip round.

You hadn’t heard what he said but he seemed a little distressed.

“Lando, are you okay?” You ask walking over to the duo making Oscar sigh.

“Y-yeah im fine sorry i didn’t mean to yell” he says sheepishly.

“It’s pretty loud in here anyway. I’m not surprised your having to raise your voice!” You laugh, raising your own a little as the sound of drilling and engines occur.

The weekend went by, and Lando stuck around. He was so polite and really kind. A little flirty but you didn’t mind because he was very respectful.

Oscar on the other hand you couldn’t read. He seemed to have this axe against you. This general dislike that you didn’t know where it had come from.

So you devised a plan, to pull him to one side. You stayed put in his drivers room waiting for him to come back from the race. He’d come P4 and Lando had a podium do it was a special weekend for McLaren.

“What are you doing in MY room!” His voice startles you from looking at your phone.

“Please don’t leave before I can talk!” You ask and he looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads.

“This is my room, your the one that needs to leave! I’m not going anywhere!” He cries with his hands up.

“Good, because I’m not leaving till you tell me why you hate me so much!” You ask and there’s an awkward silence of you both just staring at each other. You wait sitting politely on the small sofa.

“Argh I - I don’t … hate you” he sighs and you now look at him like he’s grown two heads.

“Oh come on! It’s so obvious!” You exclaim standing up.

“I don’t I just … don’t like when social media influencers come to the race” he sighs and you laugh out loud at the thought you’d been considered a social media influencer.

In some respect you were. You had a large platform and brands would take advantage of that. But it was purely your last name and legacy that got you that platform.

“I don’t know what your experience is like with celebrity’s who come here … but I’m not like them. Whoever has … swayed your opinion on well my kind of people” you mutter the last bit.

“Look I’m sorry for being so blunt and stand offish with you at the start. I didn’t mean too. Truce?” He offers and you mock a thoughtful look on your face before a grin comes onto your face that has him blushing.

“Truce Piastri! Now will you try a cookie for the love of god!” You grin showing him the plate you’d made just for him as he hasn’t eaten any of yours yet!

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall l @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

[ovaryacted]

I think Leon (4make specifically) fucking away those awful period cramps is hot ngl. He's a babygirl like that and literally anything to make his baby feel better.

Like, i think he'd suggest or heck if asked he's just there wanting to make sure you're alright and comfy first and foremost but boy does he deliver. I love him what else can i say

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | cw: discussions of menstruation & period sex note: not everyone's menstrual cycles are the same or behave the same, some people have very harsh and violent periods and others can manage their cycles better. everyone is different and that is okay, and if this doesn't apply to your situation that is okay as well. this is merely a generalization of having intimacy during that time of the month. 🫶

PERIOD SEX YEAHHHHHHHHH. But yes anon, I love him too. I feel like obviously, Leon would be attentive and soft when it comes to comforting you on your cycle, but if the horny monster sneaks up on you he won't deny it. If anything, I think he'll be the one to try to suggest it or ease you into the idea because it could help you feel better. He only does things based off of your comfort level, so unless your cramps are really pissing you off, he'll leave you alone.

Leon is much more gentle and considerate when you're on your period, a bit less handsy, and pays more attention to reading your body cues. You don't have to ask him to do anything, he's already doing it before you have to open your mouth.

You're cold? He's getting you a blanket and wrapping it around you. Your cramps are beating your ass? He comes in with a bottle of Tylenol, a heating pad, and some tea sweetened just the way you like. You're hungry or you want some food? He'll get you whatever you want or cook something if you really ask for it. Your boobs are feeling sore? He's pushing your shirt up over your chest and using his strong hands to knead at your swollen skin until you feel better.

Whatever you want, you get, even if you're not entirely sure how to vocalize the things you need at the moment.

What you hate the most about your cycle is how badly you want to be near Leon, rubbing up against his firm chest and having his hands over you. The comforting touches turn into heavy petting as you bring your lips to his own, softly grinding into his pelvis and running your fingers through his hair. You can feel him get hard against you, your body more sensitive and on edge, the ache in your gut meshing in with the light cramping.

You want more, of course you do. You're practically vibrating over Leon's lap and he can feel it from the way you shift against him. But it looked like a massacre between your legs, and the last thing you wanted was to come off as an insane horndog. Pulling away from Leon's lips, you sigh in defeat as your hormones go haywire, about to move off of him completely before his hands keep you planted on top of him.

"You don't have to stop if you don't want to, I don't mind", he tells you with plump lips, caressing your cheek with one hand and the other touching your hip under your T-shirt.

"I know but...we can't do much anyways. It feels nice just kissing you", you said with a shrug, leaning forward to kiss him again and exhale a breath through your nose.

"Says who? If you want to mess around, we can you know? It's just me", Leon gives you a lopsided grin in reassurance.

"Leon, that kind of stuff...it's weird and gross, and messy...", you were giving him excuses, looking away from him bashfully but you couldn't ignore the way his words made your body warm up at the suggestion.

"Some people like doing things while they're on their cycles, something about it helping their cramps. I read it in a study a while ago", he said as if this was the easiest thing for him to imply. He did read a study that said something about sex helping diminish cramps, and he may or may not have asked Claire for tips on how to make you feel more comfortable on your cycle.

But period sex with your loving boyfriend? That seemed too farfetched and too much to ask for.

"If you want me to help you out that way, all you have to do is ask me. I won't judge you sweetheart", Leon cupped your face with both hands, looking at you with intense blue eyes. You looked into his gaze to find any sense of deceit, but all you found was his desire.

"You sure you won't find it gross?", your voice was more curious now, the arousal you felt earlier coming back stronger.

"You're talking to someone who kills monsters for a living, blood would be the last thing that bothers me", he chuckled, giving you one final kiss on your lips and rubbing the tip of his nose against your own.

"Want me to make you feel better?", he asked you gently, and the moment you nodded at him he wrapped his arms around you to mesh your body with his own.

He's still gentle as he has you with your back pressed into the mattress, a towel underneath you and your legs wrapped around his slim waist. Leon was fucking into you at an even pace, taking it slow and focusing on the way you tightened around him every time he pushed back inside you. With every swivel of his hips, he fills you up entirely before pulling his hips back, doing it again and again as he leaves kisses all over your neck.

Your body was more responsive to him, every nerve lit like a match and burning over like melting wax. You could feel him, smell him, not wanting to part from him for one second as you whined into his shoulder.

"Feel so damn hot, so good for me baby", Leon grunts against you, nipping at your chin and hitting that spot tucked inside you. You cried out underneath him, thighs beginning to shake as you felt your release building with every thrust he gave you.

Everything felt good, better than good, your body wound tight from the pleasure that made you roll your eyes and focus on Leon's cock filling you the way you craved. You didn't know if you should be thanking him or the study he read, but turns out they were right. This was much better than taking multiple Tylenol pills at a time, and as you came hard around him, your cramps were the last thing on your mind.

[joelmillerisapunk]

Beach Daddy II. Jet skis and the ocean breeze

Rich daddy!Joel x f!reader

Series Masterlist • Masterlist

Wordcount: 8,173

Summary: You and Joel have some alone time.

Warnings: 18+, some cute reader and Joel moments, mentions of cheating and parental loss, falling into the water and struggling.

Notes: Welcome back babes 😘 hope you enjoy. Comments and any feedback are always so welcome. Thanks for reading ily.

You wake up the next morning, feeling refreshed and excited about your first day on the ocean. Sometime during the early morning hours, someone slipped an itinerary under your door. As you read it, you can't help the pang of dread you feel when you see that Sarah has planned the whole day out for you, and you will be spending all day with Todd.

At least you have a few hours before you are expected at the poolside brunch starting at 10:00. So you call down for coffee to be sent to your room, and as you wait, you go to the sliding door to the balcony and open it to let the sound of the waves take over your room.

You get dressed in a pair of shorts and your favorite top. Before you have time to finish your makeup, there is a knock at your door announcing your coffee has arrived.

"Good morning, Miss," says the pool boy Sarah had snapped at the day before. He’s carrying a coffee tray holding a glass coffee decanter, cream and sugar, and a plate full of fruit. You love that each time you've called down for something simple, the staff adds something extra.

"Good morning; I don't think I caught your name yesterday," you say.

"It's Derek, Miss. Where would you like me to put this?"

"If you could put it on the balcony for me, I would really appreciate it. It looks amazing."

"Of course," Derek says as he makes his way onto the balcony. You don't think you will ever get used to this level of service.

"Thank you so much, Derek," you say, and he responds with a smile. You don't think the staff is used to Sarah's guests calling them by name.

You quickly finish getting ready for the day and make your way to the small breakfast table before your coffee gets too cold. In the light of the morning, you can see the ocean rather than just hear it like the night before. You watch the water closely as you take your time, sipping your coffee and enjoying the sweetest fruits you have ever tasted. You hope, at some point on the trip, you will be able to catch a glimpse of a dolphin. You've always thought they were beautiful creatures.

Five minutes before 10:00, you accept your fate, slip on your sandals, and make your way out to the pool deck. Smaller tables are set up around the pool, each only allowing two to four occupants. You sit at an empty table, happy that you don't have to make small talk.

You place your order with a waiter and sit in silence, watching the rest of the group. Many of them are clearly very hung over from the night before.

The blond, Hudson, has his head resting on the table, not responding to Megan, who is talking to him nonstop. A girl with short black hair sits next to them, carefully working on an omelet, shooting dirty looks at Megan, who must have been talking too loudly.

The group must have stayed at the dinner party drinking until the early hours of the morning. You're happy you were able to slip away. Even though you had that awkward run-in with Mr. Miller, your night ended up a lot better once you were alone in your room.

As soon as your mango mimosa is set on the table, the chair next to you is pulled out. You look up and are surprised to see Todd sitting next to you.

"So, Sarah tells me that you two lived together at NYU. What did you study there?" Todd says, continuing his game.

You look around for Sarah and shoot a glare at Todd when you notice she isn't on the deck yet. "You know exactly what I studied, Todd."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he says with a wicked glint in his eyes. Why had you never seen past his fake smile before now?

Todd leans over and whispers, "You look good, babe. That’s always been your color.”

You could have slapped him, and you might have if Sarah hadn't walked up right at that moment and sat on the other side of Todd. She looks flawless, like always, in a perfectly fitted sundress.

"Hey! You really missed out on a great party last night. Adrian nearly fell into the pool in her dress," Sarah says.

"Wow, it really does sound like I missed out. I had a headache, so I snuck out early, but I won't miss a thing today," you say and take a big sip of your drink.

"Daddy, come sit with us!" Sarah squeals. You nearly choke on your drink, but luckily, you have time to compose yourself as Mr. Miller makes his way to your table.

"This is my old roommate from NYU. Unfortunately, you didn't get to meet her last night."

"Nice to meet you, darlin’," Mr. Miller says with a smirk sneaking onto his lips. He raises one eyebrow playfully. "I hope everything and everyone on the ship has been to your liking."

"Everything has been wonderful, thank you," you say. You wish you could hide under the table instead.

"Mr. Miller, what do you think of the new design of aircraft that AmeriAir just revealed?" Todd says, breaking Mr. Miller's eye contact with you. You look over at Todd and realize that he has witnessed the strange moment between you and Sarah's dad.

"It seems like it will be a great little plane. I'm interested to see how it does in this market," Mr. Miller says, and the conversation steers towards his new airline.

Of course, you know that he's wealthy, but as breakfast continues, you quickly realize that his kind of wealth is more than you can even imagine. You try not to look impressed as he talks because you keep catching the look Todd is giving you out of the corner of your eye. Even in front of Sarah, he can't control himself.

It's hard not to be impressed by Sarah's father. Not only is he wealthy, but he is extremely attractive. You could have watched the way his lips moved all morning. Sarah would catch you making googly eyes at her father if you didn't get yourself out of there. You scan the deck for an escape route when you notice Reggie sitting alone at one of the tables.

You slide your chair back and stand as casually as you can manage while saying excuse me to the table. You quickly take a seat next to him, and he looks up from his breakfast.

"Hey, Reggie. Can I ask you for a huge favor?"

"Of course. What do you need?" he asks.

"Is there somewhere quiet the rest of the guests don't know about?"

"I know the perfect place," Reggie smiles and quickly gives you directions. You stand, ready to go to this secret spot before anyone notices you are gone.

"Where are you going?"

You turn to find Sarah walking over to you. "We're all heading to the sauna."

“That sounds great, Sarah. I’ll head back to my room and change.” This is the perfect opportunity to slip away from the group for a while.

Sarah smiles. "I'm headed that way, too. When you're done, the Sauna is on B deck towards the front of the ship."

—

You enter your room and change into a swimsuit. You throw your shorts back on overtop and grab a book from your luggage. You quickly make your way out of your room, ensuring you don't run into Sarah.

You carefully avoid the sauna and head to the very back of the ship, just as Reggie suggested. You enter the dining room and step out onto the balcony. The balcony leads to a secluded deck with two lounge chairs. On the table between the two chairs is a pitcher full of lemonade and a couple of glasses.

Reggie must have arranged for this to be brought here for you.

You make yourself comfortable and try to read the book you've brought with you, but the sound of the waves at the back of the boat is so loud. You have a hard time keeping your eyes open, so you set the book down on your chest and let the sun warm your face.

Just as you're about to drift off to sleep, a shadow blocks the sun from your face.

"Seems like you found my hiding place. You must've had the same idea," a deep voice says, and you open your eyes.

"Mr. Miller!" You sit up, fully awake.

He sits down on the lounge chair next to you, leans back, and places his hands behind his head.

"Call me Joel.”

—

As Joel rounds the corner, he's surprised to see your hair flowing off the back of the lounge chair. You look so relaxed that he feels guilty invading your solace, but he can't leave now. If you notice him leaving, he'd make an even bigger fool of himself than he'd done the night before.

"Mr. Miller, I don't know if -" You start.

"Please, I insist," Joel says before you can finish.

"Alright," you answer with a small smile. "I am so sorry if I took your hiding spot. I needed some time to myself, so your intern, Reggie, told me how to get here."

"You can stay as long as you'd like, darlin. Do you mind if I hide out here with you, though?" Joel asks.

You laugh lightly, "It is your boat - Joel."

"True, but finders keepers, right," Joel says, looking over at you and winking. Then, you laugh a real laugh, making him want to say anything to hear you laugh again.

"It would be nice to have some company. Reggie sent out some lemonade. Would you like some?" You ask as you sit up and start filling the two glasses.

Reggie told Joel about his run-in with you the night before and how he'd tried to smooth over his terrible blunder. He made sure he helped you back to your room, and now he was helping you find all the best spots on the ship. He was really going out of his way for you. Joel couldn't help wondering if the boy had a crush on you.

You hand Joel a glass, and he has to stop himself from staring at you in your swimsuit. Reggie would be crazy if he didn't have a bit of a crush on you.

"So you and Sarah met at NYU?" Joel asks.

"Yeah, we were roommates during our undergrad. After that, I stayed to get my master's degree in political science. I just graduated, so this trip came at the perfect time."

"Wow, congratulations. Do you know what you’re gonna do with your degree yet?" Joel is impressed. He had begged Sarah to continue school, even bribing her with a new convertible, but she flat out refused.

"I was actually accepted into Harvard Law. I’ll be starting this upcoming fall semester," you answer rather sheepishly.

You are unlike Sarah's other friends, most of whom live off of trust funds.

"That's real impressive, darlin. My father pushed me to get my degrees in finance, but had I chosen for myself, I like to think I would’ve gone to law school," Joel says. "I don't know if I woulda been able to do it, though. It takes a lot of effort and determination to become a lawyer."

You sigh a little, "I do spend most of my time studying, but one day, it will be worth it."

"I couldn't agree more. That just means you'll have to take every second you can before your next semester to relax, " Joel says.

"That's the idea. It's really why I said yes to Sarah's invitation. I just hope I can find time to relax between everything she has scheduled. I can't really keep up with the partying her friends are used to."

"Now that you mention it, how is it that you and Sarah became friends? You two don't seem to have very similar interests," Joel says.

You laugh again, and Joel can't help but smile.

"Sarah and I did spend our free time very differently, but she knew how to get me to get out and have fun. So I guess she really helped me find a balance between school and having a life."

It's nice to hear someone talk so positively about Sarah. Joel hopes that during this trip, if his daughter spends more time with you, he will get to see more of that side of her. The kind side that Sarah often hides in favor of popularity.

"Well, I'm real glad Sarah invited you to join us."

You quickly return to your glass of lemonade, feeling almost embarrassed, and you sit in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"So, what do you think of Todd?" Joel asks. "It's unlike Sarah to bring a guy to meet me, so this relationship must be important to her."

You're taking a long time to respond, so Joel figures you haven't heard him. He turns to look at you, but you're looking down, purposely not meeting his eyes. "Are you okay?"

You ignore his second question and say, "Um, he seems to make Sarah very happy." You still refuse to meet his gaze as you get to your feet and grab your book off of the table.

Joel is confused by the sudden shift in the conversation, and he hopes he hasn't made another blunder.

"I think I'm going to go back to my room and lay down before the party. Thank you again for sharing your hideout with me," you say.

"Of course. Please, use it any time you want."

Finally, you look at him and, with a weak smile, say, "I will. I enjoyed talking with you, Joel."

"I enjoyed talkin’ with you too. I’ll see you later darlin," Joel says.

You nod and walk away, clutching your book to your chest.

Joel can't help but to watch you as you walk away. There’s something different about you that is intriguing.

He’s not used to women who are beautiful, reserved, and kind. Usually, when a woman he’s talking with finds out how much money he has, it's all he can do to escape from them. Not being able to find someone genuine is the main reason he never dated anyone long-term. There is nothing he hates more than someone trying to get to know him for access to his wealth. Sarah’s mother was the first and only woman to fool Joel into thinking she was someone she wasn't because she wanted him for his money.

Joel closes his eyes and leans back in the lounge chair. He’s positive that the conversation he had with you was genuine. He gets the feeling that there is nothing about you that isn't one hundred percent genuine.

Lost in thought, Joel doesn't hear the footsteps behind him.

"Oh, hello, sir."

Joel turns to see Reggie standing behind the two lounge chairs, looking confused.

"Reggie, I need to thank you for looking after Sarah's guests. You really have gone above and beyond what is expected. You’re doing a remarkable job."

"No problem, sir," he says with a sheepish grin.

"That reminds me to show you those sales reports from last quarter. If you could email Pam, she will get those sent over. Oh, sorry, is there somethin’ you need from me?" Joel asks.

"No, sir, I was just looking for - never mind. I will go get those reports ready. Please excuse me." Reggie says and turns to go.

Joel is confused by the interaction until he looks down at the pitcher of lemonade and the two glasses. You did say that Reggie sent up the lemonade for you, but he sent you two glasses. Joel realizes he had probably intruded on a moment Reggie set up. The thought that Reggie wants your attention shouldn't bother Joel, but it does. It bothers Joel more than he cares to admit.

He remains on the lounge chair, replaying his conversation with you over again in his head.

Finally, after an hour, he decides its probably time he rejoins the guests. Sarah is planning a cocktail party for that evening, and Joel needs to check with the staff that everything is running smoothly. Sarah had ordered an ice sculpture to be made in her image, and she told Joel she would 'die of embarrassment' if it didn't turn out. Joel plans to go check it before she can. That way, if there is a problem, Joel will be the one to deal with it, and Sarah won't get a chance to terrorize his staff.

As Joel exits the dining room on his way to the kitchen, he hears his name being called from the other end of the hall.

"Mr. Miller! I've been looking for you," Todd says.

Joel turns towards him, wondering what you aren't telling him about Todd.

"I was hoping I could have a word with you, sir. Alone.”

—

You wake up on the fourth day of the trip to a fantastic view. Wrapping a robe around yourself, you make your way to the balcony. The yacht is no longer moving; it must have come into port sometime during the night. You're docked at a tropical island with white sand beaches lined with palm trees.

A squeal of excitement threatens to escape you. Sarah told you yesterday that you'd be going on a private luxury catamaran dolphin tour. You've always wanted to see a dolphin in the wild. Even being stuck on a smaller boat with Todd all day seems worth it.

You've become quite creative in finding ways to avoid Todd each day. You still attend every planned activity but manage to sneak away and spend some time relaxing. On a few occasions, Reggie saves you from talking to the other members of the group.

You've had a few decent conversations with Alison, the woman in your group with short black hair. You like her far better than Megan, who's caught up in impressing Hudson. Megan is one of those people who puts others down to get a laugh. Unfortunately, you've been the subject of too many of her jokes for you to want to get to know her any better.

But no conversation could match up to the one you had with Sarah's father, Joel. It was also the only conversation you kept thinking about; you have to be careful whenever he's around not to stare too much. Joel, like you, usually joins the group for a while but slips away as soon as he knows he won't be missed.

Quickly getting dressed in shorts and T-shirt over the top of your bikini, you head to the dining room for breakfast before you board the catamaran.

You're the first one there, as you should have remembered that to Sarah and her friends, on time is actually early.

You sit next to one of the windows overlooking the island and place your breakfast order. Each meal is prepared by a private chef who makes the best food you've ever tasted.

The waiter brings over your latte while you wait for your lobster frittata.

You sip at your drink and watch the tropical birds flying over the ocean. Joel fills the chair across from you, breaking your trance. You look over and smile at him.

"Mornin, darlin," Joel says, returning your smile. Your stomach does a small flip as his eyes meet yours.

"Good morning," you say, glad that you picked one of the smaller tables that only has room for two.

"This has got to be my favorite place to stop. It's a quiet little island between Florida and the Bahamas. The locals are amazing, and the restaurants are to die for."

"It is absolutely beautiful," you say wistfully.

"So, what does Sarah have planned for you today?" Joel asks.

"She has a private catamaran dolphin tour planned," you say, and your tone conveys how badly you're looking forward to it.

"Oh, that will be an enjoyable day. You seem excited about the dolphins."

"I have loved dolphins ever since I was little. My parents even bought me a little stuffed animal dolphin that I carried everywhere with me. I named it Dolly," you say and then quickly stop talking.

The memory of the loss of your parents still stings, and you do your best not to talk about it.

"Have you ever gotten to see one in real life?" Joel asks you with a slightly amused look on his face, probably imagining you with the little dolphin doll.

"No. There is a pod that lives year-round off the coast of Maine where my grandpa lives, but he doesn't get out much. So I never got the chance." You're not quite as happy now as you were before as thoughts of how much you miss your family fill your mind.

Joel remains quiet. You hope he won't ask why your parents never took you. You don't want to explain about them passing away. However, you're saved when your food arrives, which gives you time to change the subject before he can ask. "You'll have to help me spot the dolphins while we are on the catamaran today," you say, hoping to sound innocent.

Joel's face falls, "I'm afraid I have some business that I really have to attend to. I won't be able to make it."

"Oh," you say, trying not to sound disappointed. You had been hoping to spend some more time with him. He's one of the only people here you like to talk to.

"I'd love to hear about your first dolphin sighting when you get back, though," he says, running a hand through his hair.

"I'll make sure I get some good pictures," you respond with a small smile. You would love the opportunity to speak to him again, and that would be the perfect excuse.

Your conversation continues as more members of the group finally turn up. When you finish your meal, Joel excuses himself and heads to his private office on the yacht.

You're sad to see him go but fight the urge to watch him walk away. Instead, you focus your eyes on the ocean, imagining what it would be like to see a dolphin leap out of the water.

Sarah is the last to arrive at breakfast, wearing another glamorous bikini with a matching sheer coverup.

She spends a few minutes sitting near Megan chatting away while she eats. Then, she says the words you've been waiting for. "The catamaran is waiting!" Sarah squeals, lifting her mimosa into the air.

With a smile, you hop up, finally eager to take part in one of the activities.

—

A man dressed in a light blue polo hands you a glass of champagne as you board the catamaran. As the captain sets sail, you quickly find a spot next to the railing.

Sarah and Todd immediately find the net forming a hammock between the two hulls and claim it for themselves. You drain your glass of champagne and turn your eyes to the ocean, constantly scanning for any movement.

The party continues on around you, and Sarah and Todd are getting more and more handsy as the cruise continues. The crew members have turned on music, and the group is dancing, drinking, and enjoying themselves.

You keep your focus on the water and try your best to ignore your ex with his tongue down your friend's throat. You grab another glass of champagne as one of the servers walks by and sample some of the hors d'oeuvres until you accidentally eat a dip that turns out to be caviar. You're not a fan.

After a while, you notice that you've turned around and are on a reef not far from the yacht. Your heart sinks as the captain stops the boat. Hudson and Todd jump into the water and try to get the girls to jump in.

"Excuse me," you say to get the attention of the man in the blue polo.

"Yes, miss? Can I get you another glass of champagne?" he answers.

"No, I'm fine, thank you. I was just wondering if you could let me know when we will start looking for the dolphin pod again?" You ask.

"I'm sorry, but Miss Miller is getting bored of looking for the dolphins and has ordered the captain to stop so everyone can do some snorkeling and swimming. We can't resume our tour until Miss Miller gives us the go-ahead. This area is great for snorkeling, though; you can see a lot of wildlife swimming in the coral," he says with a sympathetic smile.

"I see. Thank you," you say, turning away from the man, trying to keep the tears of disappointment from welling up in your eyes.

You had been so close, and the thought of leaving without seeing a single dolphin is heartbreaking.

You hear screams of excitement behind you, and you head to the swim deck and dangle your feet in the water. Todd has convinced Sarah to jump in the water, and he is now kissing her while they are both treading water. He'd never been that romantic when he was dating you; you guess he was too busy cheating on you to show you that kind of attention.

You know you probably should have given up on your hope of seeing a dolphin, but you continue to scan the surrounding water. You notice a jet ski in the distance, and it comes closer and closer to the catamaran. As the rider gets closer, you realize it’s Joel. He pulls his jet ski next to you.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, we couldn't find the dolphins, though," you try but fail to keep the disappointment out of your voice.

"Really?" Joel says, watching you closely.

"No, everyone was getting bored of looking, so Sarah had the captain stop so we could snorkel over the reef," you say while you watch your feet kick back and forth in the water. You look over at the group, all swimming on the reef, and notice Todd watching your interaction closely.

"I bet we could find them. There's a cove not far from here that I know the dolphins have been spotted in before. We could ride over there together."

You look up at him with a bit of hope in your eyes. "Are you sure?" you ask, shocked at his offer.

"Darlin, I don't want you to miss out on seeing the dolphins. Come with me," Joel says, holding out his hand to you.

So, you reach out and grab his hand with a smile on your face. He helps you off of the swim deck and onto the back of the jet ski.

"Let's go find those dolphins," he says.

You take off, and you have to grab around Joel's waist to stay on the jet ski. You nearly jump when his skin meets yours. It's only then that you realize Joel is shirtless. You instinctively want to slide closer to him, to press your body against his muscular back. You constantly have to work to fight that urge. He’s your friend's dad, you scream at yourself internally. You switch your attention back to the water. The water is crystal clear and calm. Looking off the side of the jet ski, you can see to the bottom in some places. You pass over colorful sea life that is so captivating that it almost takes your mind off of Joel's muscular back.

Almost.

"There's a cove just up here where the dolphins are known to spend time. A boat would have a hard time getting back there, especially one the size of the catamaran, but this jet ski will be a perfect fit," Joel yells over the sound of the running jet ski.

"I can't thank you enough for trying to help me. It really means a lot."

You continue at a fast pace in the direction of the cove until you get close enough that you can see the narrow inlet. Joel slows the jet ski, and you coast into the cove. The circular cove is surrounded on all sides by beaches that ease into cliff faces. The cove is completely cut off from everything; you understand why the dolphins would find this place appealing. Joel cuts the engine, and the sound of the waves crashing against the shore takes over.

"I have never seen anything like this," you say, staring around. "The water is so - blue."

"I stumbled upon it when I was a teenager. My dad was teaching me how to sail. He thought the best way for me to learn was to figure it out by myself." Joel chuckles under his breath. "He sent me out on a small sailboat all alone, and I got caught in a current and pushed in here," Joel says, a bit more seriously.

"That must have been terrifying," you say.

"It was. I sat on the boat for a long time, using every curse word I knew, and aimed them all at my father. After that, my anger started to turn to panic; I had no idea how I was going to get back or if anyone would be able to find me in this cove. Then I noticed the water rippling next to me," he says. "It was a big group of dolphins, and I watched them play and forgot about my problems. After they swam away, I was calm enough to figure out how to get myself back to the dock," Joel says, staring into the water.

"That’s an amazing story," you say, watching the creases on his brow relax. It seems as though the memory is very bitter sweet for him.

"It was a big turning point for me. I watched my parents be unhappy with each other for years, and their unhappiness trickled down to how they treated me," he says with a sigh. "The dolphins seemed so happy and were so in tune with each other. I swore to myself I would have a different kind of marriage and family life than my parents did."

You sit quietly for a long time, the sound of the soft waves lapping against the side of the jet ski. You find yourself still pressed against him, though you let your arms drop. You catch yourself constantly looking at him. It's undeniable at this point, you want Joel. You can't help but wonder if that is why he isn't with Sarah's mom, but you don't dare ask.

"My parents tried to take me to see dolphins in the wild. They planned an amazing trip for my sixteenth birthday. They were going to take me to San Diego, and we were going to stay in this cute little beach house."

"But you didn't get to go?" Joel asks.

"They were going to surprise me with it, but they never got the chance. They got in a head-on collision with a drunk driver on their way home from picking up takeout. I found the tickets and travel plans in an envelope in my mom's nightstand," you say. You feel comfortable sharing part of your past after Joel was so open with you. A very small number of people knew about your parents passing, but you feel safe with him.

"Baby girl I'm so sorry," Joel says and then pauses, clearly not knowing what to say.

"Thank you. It was a few years ago, but I still miss them every day," you say. The silence returns as you continue to scan the water. "Joel, look!" You nearly throw yourself backward off of the jet ski because you see a ripple of green-grey under the water.

"It looks like you are going to get your wish, darlin," he says with a huge smile on his face. It seems as though he is enjoying your excitement more than watching the dolphins.

A large pod has entered the cove and is swimming all around the jet ski. The water is so clear that you can see each dolphin individually. Some are playing a game of chase with each other. There are mamas with their babies swimming close to them. Others are even brave enough to come close to the jet ski, investigating what you are.

"They are common bottlenose dolphins. Oh, look over there, Joel!" You squeal in delight as two younger dolphins that are racing each other jump out of the water. "I so badly want to get in and swim with them, but I am afraid it will scare them away," you say.

"Their beauty is best observed from a distance. If you try to move too fast, it can ruin what's happening in the now," he responds quietly.

He says it so quietly that you wonder if you weren't supposed to hear him.

You sit and watch the dolphins play for almost an hour until they are ready to go, and they make their way out of the cove. "That was the most incredible thing I've seen in my entire life," you say breathlessly.

"I was thinking the same thing," Joel responds, but he is staring at you.

"I don't know if I've ever been this happy before. I'm so happy I could kiss you," the words escape your mouth before you can stop them.

Joel laughs, "Don't get my hopes up."

You smile but quickly look away. Your face feels like it's on fire. Joel kindly gives you a few minutes to recover and for your face to stop burning.

"Would it be horrible if I said I'm not ready to go back and join the rest of the group yet?" you ask.

Joel laughs, "It might be, but I agree with you."

He starts the engine again, but instead of heading out of the cove, he takes you to the beach at the far end of the cove.

He takes your hand and helps you down into the water. It's up to your waist when you jump down, and you wade to the beach while Joel anchors the jet ski.

You let your feet sink into the hot sand. It clings to your feet and legs as you sit down and rest your weight on your elbows. Joel walks over to join you and stretches out next to you. You both sit in silence and let the waves hit your feet.

"Did you ever go sailing again after what happened when you found the cove?" you ask.

"I didn't sail again for a long time. I resented my dad, so I purposely hated everything he loved. He loved to sail, so I refused to do it," he says with a small smile. "That's actually why I started my own business ventures in air travel. Flying always terrified my father, so I picked a business he would have no interest in."

"But you did sail again, right?"

"I did in my late twenties, only when my dad was out of town. I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of thinking he was right," he answers.

You laugh lightly with Joel and return your attention to the cove. You want to take a mental picture of everything. You hope that when you look back on today, you will be able to remember exactly how you felt.

"I don't know how I will ever repay you for such a perfect day," you say.

"You don't owe me anything. I'm just glad you’re enjoying yourself."

"I will find a way," you say defiantly with a smirk.

"You are not what I expected, darlin," he says.

You laugh, "I hope that's a good thing."

Joel slides his hand toward yours and brushes your pinky finger with his. A jolt of hope rushes through you. You want to grab his hand but settle for the brief touch of your fingers against each other.

"It’s a very good thing. To be completely honest, I was dreading this trip after Sarah invited all of her friends. But, my time getting to know you has been well worth it," Joel says.

You slowly slide your hand away from his after he mentions Sarah. It's so easy to forget that Joel is Sarah's dad when you're alone together. However, that doesn't change reality. Are you awful for finding him so irresistible?

"It's probably best if we head back. We're all having dinner together at one of my favorite restaurants on the island. I think you're gonna love it," Joel says while getting to his feet. "Do you want to drive the jet ski back? I’d be happy to teach you if you'd like," he says with a hint of mischief behind his smile.

"I don't know. I've never driven anything like that before. Are you sure you trust me not to tip us both in the ocean?" you say with a shy grin.

"I trust you. Plus, I'm a strong swimmer," he says with a wink. He reaches his hand down to help you to your feet.

Before grabbing his hand, you pick up a small pink shell sitting next to you on the beach and slip it into your cover-up. You want something to remind you of the day and seeing the dolphins.

—

"This lever here is the gas, and you steer just like you would with the handlebars on a bike," Joel says from behind you on the jet ski. "Just take it nice and slow out of the cove. You can get up to a higher speed when we get to open water, and you feel more comfortable," he continues.

You can feel his warm breath on the side of your neck, and it sends goosebumps all across your body. You imagine his lips pressing to your neck where his breath is warming. You wonder what his hands would feel like on your body -

"Ready?"

"Oh, um, sorry, what?" You say, pulling yourself out of your daydream.

"Are you ready to go?" Joel says with a small chuckle. You're glad he's sitting behind you, so he can't see your face.

"Yes, I think so," you say with slight hesitation.

"Don't worry, I'm right here," he assures you. "Just take it slow."

You ease your thumb on the throttle, and slowly, you start moving. You remain at a snail-like pace until you're completely out of the cove and a bit beyond.

"Try givin’ it a bit more gas," Joel says softly next to your ear.

You aren't prepared for your stomach fluttering at Joel's closeness and not thinking clearly you hit the throttle way too hard. Your hand slips from the throttle, and with a rush of air beneath you, you go sailing through the air. A moment after you hit the ocean, you hear a second splash and know you've thrown Joel off of the jet ski, too.

As you sink into the water, you begin to panic. You can't tell which way the surface is. You fight to swim to the surface, disoriented and fighting for air. With a gasp, you emerge from the water and look around frantically for Joel. He pops out of the water next to you.

"Joel, I am so sorry! Are you okay?" You ask.

Joel's mouth breaks into a giant smile, and he starts laughing. He laughs one of those deep, uncontrollable laughs; he has finally relaxed enough to truly let go. You can't help but start laughing, too.

"See, that's why you have to wear the kill cord on your wrist. That way, if you fall off, the jet ski doesn't keep going without you," he says and starts swimming over to the empty jet ski.

You start swimming after him and watch him as he pulls himself back onto the jet ski. His back muscles flex as he gets back on, and the water droplets dripping down his body emphasize the definition between each muscle. You can't help but imagine running your hands down his back as he hovers over the top of you.

Joel reaches his hand down to pull you back on the watercraft. You have to catch your imagination before you let it wander off too far. He pulls you up effortlessly, and you sit down behind him.

"I think I'm going to let you drive us back now."

"Are you sure you don't want to take the reins again?" he says, gesturing to the handlebars.

"I think it'll be safer if I let you take over. It seems like I only have two speeds," you say with a small chuckle.

"Fine, but we're going to have you driving one of these like a pro before this vacation is over," Joel says with a small smile. You wrap your arms around his waist, and he sets off.

As Joel drives, you replay watching the dolphins swim in the cove. You're so distracted that it isn't until he stops the jet ski that you realize he hasn't gone back to the same dock where the yacht is waiting for you. Instead, you're at the edge of a small coastal town, where each side of the streets is lined with the glowing lights of shops and restaurants.

"Oh, I thought we would go back to the yacht before dinner. I can't exactly go to dinner dressed like this," you say, gesturing to your very wet swimsuit that is clinging to your body.

Joel looks you up and down and smiles, "I don't think you would hear many complaints, but don't worry, we can stop at one of the shops and get you something dry."

Your heart sinks. You have very limited funds, and getting new clothes is definitely not in your budget. Not wanting to admit this, you nod your head and follow Joel down the street. You'll have to pay him back because you haven't brought any money with you.

Joel leads the way into a boutique called, AmoreBelle, and you can already tell from the window displays that the store is way out of your price range.

The smell of fresh lavender drifts out through the door as soon as it opens. The walls and floors are the brightest white, so all of the customer's attention is drawn to the glamorous dresses hanging on the racks. You feel so out of place in your simple and very wet clothes. You pray that you won't drip on their floors.

"Well, hello, welcome back," says a saleswoman as she comes to greet you. She smiles at Joel, clearly recognizing him.

"Jane, s’good to see you still work here. This is my friend," Joel says, introducing you. "I need you to help her find some new outfits. As you can see, we need to get her out of these wet clothes."

"Anything for you. I already have some great pieces in mind that will go perfectly with her hair. I will go get you a room started, hun," Jane says and walks away.

"I'm going to head over to the men's store next door, but I think you should try this one," he says as he grabs a cocktail dress in a deep midnight blue and hands it to you.

"Your room is right this way," Jane says and gestures for you to follow her.

"I'll see you soon," Joel says and turns to leave, but before walking out the door, he stops to talk to one of the other women on the sales floor. She immediately starts gathering dresses off of the racks.

You walk around the corner, and there is a pedestal in the middle of the room surrounded by mirrors and changing room doors. You've watched TV shows where women try on wedding dresses in a setting similar to this, but you never imagined yourself in a place like this.

"I put some things for you to try in the first room on the right. Can I get you anything? Champagne?" the woman asks.

“That sounds lovely,” you say while trying to hide your shaking hands. You turn and shut the door of your changing room as soon as the saleswoman leaves. The changing room is already lined with outfits for you to try on. You take a deep breath before looking at the price tag on the dress Joel had handed you. You could have cried and probably would have had it not been for a soft knock on the door. You open the door, and the saleswoman Joel spoke to before leaving is standing there, with her arms full of elegant dresses.

"Mr. Miller asked me to make sure you leave in a semi-formal dress. I brought some great options. My name is McKenzie." she says as she starts hanging up the dresses on the hooks in the dressing room.

"Thanks," you answer. You consider running out the door and waiting by the jet ski until Joel returns, but you know you will have to explain eventually.

"Well, please let me know if you need anything."

"Actually, McKenzie. I have something to confess," you say nervously.

McKenzie looks confused but lets you continue.

"Everything in this dressing room is way out of my price range. Honestly, I probably couldn't afford a pair of underwear."

McKenzie smiles and giggles a little. Your face drops; you can't believe she is laughing at you for being broke.

"I am so sorry. I am not laughing at you; I totally understand your concern. I just figured you already knew. You don't have to be able to afford anything here."

"What do you mean?" You ask, still confused.

"Joel already has everything covered. He told me I am not allowed to let you leave this store until you have found a dress and at least ten new outfits," McKenzie says, amused with the shocked look on your face.

"I can't possibly go along with this," you say, your voice cracking.

"You have to. If you don't, we won't earn any commission." McKenzie leans closer and whispers, "I can't afford the underwear here either."

You are uncomfortable with the idea of Joel spending so much money on you, but you refuse to be the reason that these women miss out on a huge commission. You immediately feel better, knowing you have much in common with McKenzie and possibly Jane.

"Okay, where do we start?" you say with a small sigh of defeat.

"Let's start with the everyday outfits and move on to the gowns after," she says and then adds, "Oh, we can also spend some time looking at the underwear if you'd like."

That's when you realize how this must look to these saleswomen and how it would look to anyone. You start to wonder how many other women he's done this for; the saleswomen seem used to this type of thing. You quickly push the thought out of your mind. It doesn't matter what this looks like; Joel is just a kind person. Plus, there is no way he would be interested in someone like you.

After many outfit changes and finding more new clothes than you've bought for yourself in an entire year, all that is left to pick out is a dress. McKenzie and Jane have outdone themselves in giving you beautiful options. You try on every single one and are met with many compliments from the sales team as you model them on the platform in the center of the dressing rooms.

Jane refills your glass of champagne and asks, "Have you decided which one you want to go with?"

"I have one more left to try on before I decide," you say and slip back into the changing room.

As soon as you put on Joel's choice, you know it is the one. The midnight blue silk slides over every inch of your body like it is molded specifically for you. The dress brushes the floor, but a slit up one side makes it easy to move in.

"Wow," two voices behind you say in unison.

"I'll take this one.”

[solarwonux]

Business Proposal || knj (9/?)

pairing: namjoon x f!reader || ex friends to lovers!au friends to lovers!au

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fwb!au, non idol!au, unrequited love

Warnings: slow burn, angst, fluff, flirting, semi-edited, smut, fingering, eating out, unprotected sex.

Rating: mature, 18+

w.c: 8.0

Synopsis: Namjoon is living on borrowed time, and it’s time to cash in. His father is months from taking his last breathe and his life long dream is to watch his oldest son say “I do.”

A/n: lol, hello, I'm sorry for being so MIA lately. I kinda have had half of this written since November but my mom came to visit me in Korea and I forgot about it haha. If you are still here thank you for sticking around! Enjoy! Let me know your thoughts!

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10 Years Ago

Things were finally looking up.

“If you just remember everything we have gone over you'll be fine.” He simply says like it's no big deal, waving you off. 

You on the other hand are filled with the gnawing pain of your nerves. As you look down at your notebook filled with an equal mixture of correct and incorrect answers. 

Maybe things weren't really looking up. 

“I think we should do a few more.” You rush out, flipping to a new page. In that exact moment, the buzzer in Namjoon's hand goes off, and he stands up. 

He pushes in his chair and walks to stand beside you, putting a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Over studying is not the answer.” He says gently, giving your shoulder a light squeeze before walking away to pick up your drinks. 

Your protest dying as you burn daggers into his back. You aren't sure if it's a good thing that he has so much faith in you. When you don't have an ounce in yourself. Especially when in two days you'll hopefully end your misery with the dreaded math final. 

It's been two whole months since you've started your weekly tutoring sessions with Namjoon. You aren't completely lost in class anymore. If you are, you just come to the broad man and drown him in all kinds of questions. With this tactic you've even managed to get an eighty-five present in your last math test. 

The only thing left for you to pass is the stupid final.

You have been seeing Namjoon a lot more this week. Scheduling, and practically begging him to squeeze you into his tight schedule since Monday. A request to brush up on equations and gain some clarity on things you might have forgotten. To say the least, your test anxiety has reached a whole new level. You visibly look exhausted, your skin is oilier than usual, sporting a few painful pimples on your chin, and your hair looks so greasy despite just washing it in the morning. You should feel slightly ashamed for even leaving your house looking like a hot mess, but your thoughts are suffocating. Staying in would make the panic in the pit of your stomach worse. 

Especially when you and your tutor have recently discovered your inability to do word problems. The main reason why you keep calling Namjoon at three in the morning. Even though he thinks you're just being paranoid, especially with the silent sigh of defeat you hear through your phone speaker. He tries his best to reassure you that you're going to be fine at the end of the day. 

“There will probably be three, five at most. He had said last night when you called. 

Thankfully he had stayed up revising his final paper, instead of being three dimensions deep in dream land like on Sunday when you called. Still, even though he had muttered out a tiny complaint, he stayed on the line with you. Until you were calm enough to fall asleep again. 

In just three months your acquaintance has blossomed into a full on friendship. Along with your sneaking suspicion that both Taehyung and Jimin like him better. It was obvious last Friday night when Jimin had a small end of the semester get together at his apartment. Namjoon got so drunk he performed the entirety of Grease Lightning on karaoke. Including the dance break with special guest and step brother Jeon Jungkook. 

Later on in the night the older of the four cried about the final scene in the Titanic. It was a rollercoaster of emotions, but heartwarming to be able to see a different side of the Philosophy student. 

“Look who decided to join us.” You jump, placing your pen down in your notebook, closing it to hold your page. You turn around, feeling a wide smile come onto your face when you lock eyes with the other source of your happiness these last few months. 

“Hobi,” you exclaim, holding your arms out to him. He chuckles, and leans down giving you one of those awkward hugs one gives when the other person is sitting down. It only lasts a few seconds and then he is leaning his head back to plant a sloppy kiss on your cheek, making you cringe. 

“Ew,” you pout, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. He chuckles, pecking your lips lightly and then taking the seat next to you. 

“Joon says you need a break from being a math wizard.” He chuckles, dragging your notebook to him. He places his arms over it keeping it hostage.

You whine crossing your arms in front of you, pouting like a child. “But what if I don't pass. I don't want to have to take the class a third time.” 

Namjoon shakes his head, sets your chamomile tea in front of you, and sits down. “I already told you, you won't. I did the math last night. Even if you get a sixty five percent, you'll still be able to pass the class with a B.” He states firmly and takes a sip from his coffee. 

You huff, sinking further into the chair. “I don't want a B, I want an A.” 

Hoseok snakes an arm over your shoulders and brings you close to his side.” “Then you will pass the class with an A honey cakes.” He kisses your temple before resting his cheek on top of your head. You take a deep breath, nodding and snuggling closer to him.

“So are you two dating now?” Namjoon leans back in his seat, crossing his arms in front of him.

Hoseok waves an arm, brushing off the question that has been surrounding the two of you these past three weeks. “You know it's not like that.” He answers before you can. He pulls his arm away and sets them both on top of your notebook. He sends you a knowing wink. 

“Yeah you out of all people should know it's not like that.” You back up Hoseok, sticking your tongue out at the other. “How's Rina by the way?” You challenge making the man next to you burst out in a fit of giggles. 

You see, most of the things Jungkook told you about Namjoon prior to your first meeting have all been lies. Or just not the whole truth.

Namjoon was a broody person. He did put his studies as one of his priorities in life. And he didn't want a relationship. 

Yet in the last few months you have gotten to know the career driven man. You've also managed to peel back some of his layers. 

He did have his moments of indignation, but he could also be very playful and funny. This side mostly comes out when Hoseok is around or when he wants you to get your mind off the things that have been stressing you out. He does have a strong work ethic, but he also knows when to take a break. 

There have even moments in your tutoring slash now study sessions when he forces you to take walks. He says it helps clear your head, but you also know it's his way to get his ideas to flow again whenever he feels stuck. 

During these walks you've managed to find out more things about him. He loves museums because he's shit at art, and knowing that there are people out there who aren't makes him appreciate the art a lot more. At least once every two months he visits the tree he and his father planted his mother’s ashes at to update her on his life. He cares so much for Jungkook and his mother even if he doesn't show it all the time. And despite not wanting a relationship he has been head over heels for the girl he's been casually hooking up with for the last two years. 

Though he won't come out and say it himself. You have witnessed the way his face settles down into something calmer. And his eyes light up whenever his phone rings and her name pops up on the screen.

He once spent thirty minutes talking about a joke she had told him one night. Spoiler alert, it wasn't a good one, but it was adorable watching him try to get it out in-between chuckles. 

You also know he shares the same negative sentiment Jungkook has about your current relationship with his best friend. But just like he claims that his relationship with Rina is complicated. So, is yours with the ray of sunshine you get to now call friend.

“She's fine.” He shrugs, clearing his throat and looking out the window. You share a look with Hoseok before letting out a fit of shared giggles. 

If someone had once told you that your strict math tutor slash friend would turn into a shy mess with just the simple mention of a name. You would've thought they were fucking with you. Even if it still surprises you a little bit. 

“You should just ask her to be your girlfriend.” Hoseok chimes in. 

Namjoon throws his head back groaning. “It wouldn't work out if I do, plus that would require for me to act like a boyfriend and I'm not ready for that kind of commitment.” He speaks with his eyes trained on the high ceiling of the cafe. 

You lean forward placing your elbows on top of the table and wrapping your arms around the hot mug. “You already do Namjoon. A switch of labels is not going to change anything. And don't you think she deserves some kind of confirmation and respect when it comes to your relationship?” You finish tilting your head to the side. 

“I do respect her though, which is why I don't want to ask her, like you just said a label won't change anything.” 

You let out a sigh, “I didn't say that you didn't respect her. I just think that from a girl's perspective she might be feeling a little bit confused with your words and actions. You say the two of you aren't anything serious but then you act like you can't live without her. If I was in her shoes I would feel very frustrated. So, maybe you don't have to make this big grand gesture or ask her to officially be your girlfriend but just clarify things between the two of you. If you aren't serious about her then so be it but if you are then tell her that.” You finish and take your first sip from your tea. 

“I agree with honey cakes, just be a little more straight forward that's all.” Hoseok shrugs before standing up. 

Namjoon rolls his eyes, and looks between the two of you. “And what about you?” He counteracts childishly. You knew it was coming. In his eyes the two of you giving him advice when you're in a similar situation is a bit hypocritical. Plus you and Hoseok are on the same page so it's di–

“That's different.” Hoseok speaks before you. “And this is about your love life not ours.” He states stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“Whatever.” Namjoon brushes off. You sigh, aware that if you choose to continue the conversation it will end in the three of you having a petty argument. You look at Hoseok as he leans down, placing a delicate kiss on your cheek, making the man witnessing the affectionate gesture scoff in annoyance. 

If he wants to say something he doesn't voice it instead he opens his leather bound notebook to a new page. 

Hoseok ignores him and stands up straight. “Are we still on tonight?” 

You nod. “I can't stay for long though I want to catch up on sleep.” 

“Fine then just one movie it is.” He winks before turning on his heels. Leaving you behind with the grumpy man. He looks up from his journal, opening his mouth, but you raise a hand to stop him. “It's different Namjoon.” 

Namjon clicks his tongue in annoyance and shrugs. “Whatever, let's just do one more world problem before calling it a day.” 

“Fine,” you huff, sliding your notebook in front of you and opening it to a clean page. 

Just one more day and you'll be free from this torture. 

Hoseok's apartment is everything you expect from the maximest man. Just upon walking in you are hit with waves of bright colors. By the doorway there are different KAWS figurines that you can only imagine cost a fortune. Yet they greet you with their x'd out eyes as you remove your shoes. 

Then you have to pass by the Supreme beaded curtain to finally enter the living room. A bright red leather couch is settled in the middle. With wine colored pillows and a black throw blanket that you've adopted since the first night you spent in Hoseok's arms.

Abstract art lines the walls behind the television. There are more figurines lining the shelves in between books, records, and framed pictures of his friends and families. Along with a few miscellaneous items that he's told you he's obtained over the years.

His TV is huge. Takes up almost the whole wall, but your favorite to watch movies since he installed a surround system upon moving in years ago. 

You still remember the first night he invited you over. It was after spending two whole weeks texting non stop. He simply asked if you wanted to watch a movie with him and you thought why not. 

One night led to another and now another. It always starts the same. The two of you spend days teasing one another through text. Lewd texts along with pictures. You come over for a movie and then you end up underneath him. 

When it's over, he lets you use his shower while he orders takeout from the vegan restaurant a block down the road. And the two of you resume watching the movie as if neither of you were panting each other's names in pleasure. 

A simple arrangement with absolutely no strings attached.

It was what you were expecting when you came over tonight. Not that you don't mind the nights in which you do come over and nothing happens other than the deep hearted talks over a slow record playing in the background. But that wasn't happening either, because ever since you arrived at his doorstep, the overzealous man has been quiet. Biting the inside of his cheek and moving around you far enough to raise suspicion. 

It has your mind traveling back to the conversation that occurred in the afternoon. Was Hoseok having second thoughts? Or was there more to his actions than what you were picking up? 

“Hobi,” you whisper the minute he enters his living room with a bowl of popcorn stepping over your legs that were resting on his coffee table. He silently settles down next to you, on the other side of the couch with a gap wide enough to fit a person in between. 

Now you're more than positive that something is wrong. 

You groan, “I think I'll just go home then.” You mumble, pushing the throw blanket of your shoulders. 

This is enough to catch his attention. His eyes are wide behind his dark rimmed glasses and he sits up. “What why?” He tilts his head in confusion. 

A dry chuckle escapes your lips. “You obviously don't want me around, so I'll just go. I need to go to sleep early anyway.” You shrug, slipping your feet in his fuzzy slippers and swiftly start making your way to grab your stuff in his room. 

“No I–wait.” Finally, he speaks up, earning an eye roll from you that he can't see as your back is still turned. 

With haltered steps you spin on your heel to face him again, “What? You've been acting strange since I got here. So, if you don't want me around I will just go home.” 

At lightning speed he sets the bowl of popcorn on his coffee table, and stands up. He makes hasty steps towards you and when he is finally standing in front of you, he sets both of his hands on top of your shoulders. 

“Don't leave…I'm sorry.” Hoseok's eyes cast down past your face. They settle upon the graphic on your old washed out t-shirt. He takes a deep breath and looks up again. His face twists into something you can't decipher. It's a look you've never seen him wear, and it settles hard into your chest. 

He looks troubled, chewing on the inside of his cheek. His eyes dart to five different focal points. You know he's arguing with himself. When he finally looks at you in your eyes again. You can't help but shrink a little bit. 

His features have hardened, and you want to reach out to smooth over the little worry lines in the middle of his forehead. Guilt washes over you. 

For what? 

You don't know but you hope more than anything that you'll soon find out. 

“Can we talk?” He speaks up, letting his arms fall down, his knuckles brushing against your skin. 

For a second you think he's going to pull away. Retrieve into his body, but when he grabs your hands and laces his fingers with yours. The guilt in the pit of your stomach dissipates and you're left with confusion. 

When you don't answer his question, he repeats himself. This time differently, “I just think we need to talk, I've been thinking since this afternoon. I want to check up on you, and I guess us.” He clarifies, and now you're filled with a different kind of emotion. As much as you're relieved that you didn't do anything wrong per se. You are slightly annoyed that he couldn't just tell you that when you first arrived. Instead of ignoring you until you reached your breaking point. 

Frustrated, you say slowly, “Then just say that, instead of ignoring me.” 

Hoseok closes his eyes and sighs, nodding his head before speaking, “you're right I'm sorry. I just have a lot on my mind and I am not sure how to bring any of what I'm thinking about up.” 

“Hobi, just say it. We agreed on clear communication when we realized that this was going to be more than just a one night stand.” You sigh, beginning to walk in the direction of his couch, stringing him along. “Whatever is on your mind, just say it.” You push him onto his couch and take the seat next to him, your body fully facing his, and you fold your legs beneath you. 

He nods, running a hand down his face. “I don't think this is working anymore.” He whispers, eyes trained on his ceiling. 

Okay you were definitely not expecting that, but instead of voicing your surprise, you squeeze his hand. Encouraging him to continue. 

He does, “I think I'm slowly falling for you, well I don't know I'm confused about my feelings.” He whispers the end and falls quiet. 

As much as you want to run away and hide at his confession. He looks troubled and you wouldn't be a good friend if you just left him to wallow in his thoughts. No matter the pressure that has settled in your chest. Or the fact that your heart thinks you're running a marathon, making your ears feel like they're about to fall off too. 

With every passing moment you're finding that it's getting harder to breathe. You aren't dumb, the atmosphere has also changed, but it isn't because of his confession. It's because you are also a bit confused about your feelings.

You clear your throat, “W-What are you confused about?” 

He stops his staring game with the ceiling, shifting his whole body to finally face you. “Do you know why both Kook and Joon are so against us?” 

The question throws you off guard but you suppose it has to do with what he's going through. You do have an idea as to why your friends are raising a brow at your relationship. Jungkook’s warning the first day you met the barista is enough for you to get a rough idea of what they mean. But you want to hear it from him. 

Still you don't know if you can trust your voice so you shake your head. 

He continues, “I've never been in a relationship because I don't trust people to love me the way I know I can love them. So, I just sleep around, and when I get bored I break it off.” 

 “I know. They warned me about you when you immediately showed interest. And trust me I knew what I signed up for when we agreed to keep seeing each other. I don't expect anything more than what we are doing.” You tilt your head to the side.

“I know that's why I'm confused. At first that's all I expected and wanted. But then I don't know I feel so full and empty when I'm with you. I don't want you to leave when the night is over. You're the last thing I think about and the first thing I want to see. I've never felt this sure and comfortable with anyone ever, and I don't know what to do because we both know this isn't forever, your forever is with someone else, and so is mine. But for now I just want to be with you and know what it's like to fall in love and with you.” He takes a deep breath. “Even if it's just for a little bit. You know that next year I'll be leaving for that design school, and I'm sorry but nothing and no one is going to stop me. I've waited too long for this opportunity. I know I'm being selfish to ask you this, but can you please find it in your heart to let me be yours until then?” 

Hoseok finishes. And you're left to your own devices. To deal with your emotions as they spill out of you in hot tears. You've never had someone confess to you so passionately before. Actually nobody has ever bothered. And even though it's semi depressing you can't help but feel on cloud nine with all his words wrapping around you in the warmth that he radiates. 

Without thinking you kneel, and wrap your arms around his neck. “Okay let's do it.” You beam and he matches your smile. He leans in to kiss you but you place your hand over his mouth to stop him. 

Confusion plagues him like a bitter sting. You laugh, “But only if you agree that when everything is over there's no drama between us, and if I ever get married you have to design my wedding dress.” You remove your hand, and cradle his cheek, rub your thumb over his eyebrow. 

He chuckles, rolling his eyes. “You will get married.” 

“Nah, but it's okay. I've accepted my faith.” You shrug, resting your forehead against his. His hands come up your cheek, squishing them slightly.

“You will honey cakes, that's why I'm already planning your dress design in my head.” He wipes your forgotten tears, and tilts your head to the side. 

You feel your breathing get faster, as his heart shaped lips rest centimeters apart. “How are you so sure?” You whisper, swallowing thickly at the end. 

He smirks, with a glint in his eye. Like he knows something you don't, “because I know someone who is also falling for you but they’re to dumb to notice “ 

“Who?” 

“Secret,” he says before finally crashing his lips onto yours.

Hoseok’s room is equally as loud as his living room. It’s a little more diluted with simple decorations and a huge abstract painting on the wall in front of his bed. His bed takes up most of his space, adoring a black duvet with black sheets. He has three pillows and two of those you’ve taken ownership of. His brown dresser holds little trinkets of things he buys or finds in the pockets of his pants. It’s also home to a series of designer colognes. Your favorite one was definitely Terre d'Hermes. Somehow the smell always fills with comfort. 

Your favorite part of his room–other than his bed–was his desk. They say you can tell a lot about a person by just looking at their work space. 

He’s a messy artist. His sketches are always thrown around, or pinned on the corkboard hanging over his desk. He has two bookshelves filled with sketchbooks and magazines. Sometimes if you’re lucky he will leave his sketchbooks open, awarding you with a small glance of his work. He has different notebooks for different magazine cutouts. Each one labeled something like, ‘street’ or ‘formal’ or ‘one-day.’ The latter always peaks your interest but you’ve never thought to ask. He has a thousand different sketching materials, and so many colorful markers. You just know that he was that kid in class with the sixty-four crayola back. 

He's passionate about his craft. A passion that shines through everything that he does. Especially when he’s sharing that passion with you. Now, as he lays you down onto his soft mattress. He kisses his way down your neck, slowly pushing your shirt up to reveal your stomach and the few stretch marks that appeared one day in your early adolescent years. 

For years it was hard to be intimate with someone in fear that they would disgust your partner. But the one thing you learned while growing up was that most men didn’t give a shit unless they were getting it. 

Yet Hoseok, your boyfriend, now. 

He cares. 

In a good way. The first time he saw you naked he almost came in his jeans. Your curves were all in the right places. You have enough skin to grip onto, and he loves all the marks and imperfections your body has. 

He couldn’t understand why you were so beautiful in the soft glow of his bedroom lights? Why he didn’t have the words to describe how his heart was literally beating against his ribcage?  Why for the first time in his casual dating experience he feared he wouldn't be able to give you the pleasure you deserved? 

So, that first night together, he took his time. Trying to get his thoughts under control. He painted your body with featherlight kisses. Determined to leave his trace imprinted in your body for however long you two would engage with each other. 

Everytime you came over. He did just that. He took his time, choreographing a dance with your body. It was a no-brainer that he had fallen for you. Something he knew shouldn’t have happened. He had plans for himself. He had a future mapped out since he was teenage. Though, he had the sneaking suspicion that you wouldn’t stop him from achieving his goals. That you would support him through everything. He should’ve stopped his feelings for you from growing. 

He kept them quiet until his portfolio got accepted. Until he saw the brief glances Namjoon gave you when he thought you weren’t looking. Perhaps it was the jealousy that made him confess. Or that his time with you was now limited. Whatever the reason was that led him to his confession, he only hoped that you felt the same. 

You giggle, the beautiful melodic sound grounds him as he wraps a calloused hand around your right breast, circling his thumb around the pebble. 

You're his girlfriend now. 

He, your boyfriend and he will bring down the moon for you tonight if you asked him too. 

“What’s so funny?” His curious stare meets your amused one. 

You had failed to keep your giggles at bay while he made out with you on his couch. He let a few of his own out when he had had enough of kissing and grinding in his living room, and guided you into his room. 

He loved the sound, and he loved that it was only because after months of dancing this tango you were still shy underneath him. 

“Nothing, it’s just that Mickey is staring at us.” You whisper gasping when he grinds his lower half against yours. Hoseok playfully rolls his eyes, reaching and turning around the newly added picture of his family dog on his bedside table. No more prying dog or human eyes around to interrupt the two of you. 

His attention returns to you. Gaze burning with lust as he leans down, pecking your lips lightly. “Can you stay over?” He says, kneading your breast again. The teasing touches were driving you insane. But this is how you preferred it. Slow and intense, tangling your body with his, until the two of you became one. 

“I’ll make an exception if you promise to drive me to my class tomorrow with a free coffee.” You smile, pushing your chest into his hand. 

He shook his head, reaching down to your lips. “Hustler.” He mumbles, capturing your mouth in a slow sensual kiss. “You got yourself a deal baby girl.” 

Your body shudders at the nickname. He only used it when it was just the two of you. He knew the effect it had on you. “Can I take your shirt off now?” He smirks. 

You let out a pleasurable sigh, nodding your head, before verbalizing a soft, “yes.” 

He pulls away, sitting back on his heels, peeling his shirt off before helping you with yours. He discards the two of them somewhere behind him. He pulls you towards him again, resting his forehead against yours. A bright smile adorning his perfect face. 

It makes your stomach crumble, knowing that from this moment on.

Hoseok would always be the one who got away. 

Your big “what if.” 

Your biggest treasure. Your safe place. Your blueprint for a future with someone else. The love story that was made to end. But one that burned so bright that would have you telling your future daughter to never be afraid of love. 

“Can we go slow today?” You run your hands down his torso, playing with the belt buckle of his expensive belt. 

“I’ll go at whatever pace you want me to go, baby girl.” He reassures,  his fingers play with the bra strap that had fallen down your shoulder. 

You tilt your head, looking at him with soft eyes. And he swears he feels himself melt. 

The next few minutes were a mess of soft kisses and clothes being discarded. Each article of clothing, landing with a soft ‘thud’ against his bedroom floor. You’re on cloud nine, his lips kiss down your neck, your collarbone. His hands part your thighs, baring your cunt to him. He sits back, mouth watering at how wet you are. He couldn’t wait for a taste. 

He could never wait. And he never did. 

He kisses your mound before wrapping his lips around your clit. He savors the sigh that escapes your mouth. He smirks when he immediately feels you grip his hair, pushing him further. Just like he couldn’t resist, you also couldn’t.

He sucked, distracting you from his finger circling around your entrance making you gasp in surprise when you feel him insert one. Slowly thrusting it as he licked you like a man who has been starved for weeks. 

“Hobi,” You sigh, pushing his head further. He fingers you faster until he feels you clench around him, and he stops, making you whine. 

“Please,” you plead. He chuckles against you, inserting another finger. This time he doesn’t give you time to adjust. You feel him thrust into you with no hesitation. His mouth sucking on your clit, swirling his tongue around it playing with the nub. 

You were withering, moaning his name, and anything your mind could conjure up in this moment. 

Overwhelmed with blissful pleasure, you grip his bed sheets, bucking your hips into his face. He groans, knowing you were on edge from how tight your grip on his head was now. And he did the one thing he knew would drive you insane. He slowed down, until he came to a complete stop. 

“Hoseok,” you groan, slamming your hand onto his comforter. He chuckles, lifting his head. Your body was flushed, your lips swollen, your hair splayed out around you. He loves bringing you to this moment. 

“You said you wanted slow.” He grins, taking his fingers out of your pussy. Loving the way it clenched over nothing now. Almost as if it was begging to be played with again. 

You roll your eyes, pouting. “Not this slow. I want to come.” You say, sitting up on your elbows. 

“Oh baby you will.” He winks, licking his fingers clean. He leans over, pecking your lips quickly. “You will come as many times as you want. But I want the first one to be around my cock tonight.” 

You gasp at his words. You knew his mouth was lethal but sometimes it still surprises you. The lust lacing with his soft timbre made you weak in the knees. 

“Fuck,” you whisper, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. 

The word ‘slow’ is forgotten from either of your vocabularies, while the two of you kiss hungrily. Sucking on tongues, teeth clashing, hands touching and clutching onto anything and everything. 

Hoseok lays you down on your side, climbing in behind you. His teeth nips at your bottom lip and he wrapped your leg around his hips. He kisses down your neck, while you help guide his cock to your entrance. He locks his eyes with yours as he slowly pushes himself in. His arms wrap around your torso, and he pushes you closer to his chest. 

Both of your heartbeats are in sync. Racing against the clock, basking in pleasure that you never want it to end. 

“Move please.” You say, lifting your face to kiss him. 

He begins to move his hips, making you gasp into each other's mouths. It’s a sloppy pace from the start but you don't care. You want more, so you met his thrusts halfway. One of his hands palms at your breast. He alternates between swallowing your moans and leaving his mark on anything he can get his lips on. 

“B-Baby.” He moans, resting his forehead on yours. “I’m close, are you?” He thrusts, letting out a low moan when he feels you clench around him.

He didn’t give you a minute to answer, before he was lifting your leg higher around his waist, allowing himself to reach the deepest part of you. “Touch yourself baby.” 

You moan his name, letting go of his hand, your finger meeting your clit, rubbing it in circles. Trying to keep up with his unrelenting pace. And soon you feel him still behind you, eyes shutting in pleasure as he spills himself inside of you. His orgasm triggers the coil in the pit of your stomach as you feel your release wash over you in a tidal wave, making you push his cock and cum out of you. His fingers frantically come down to meet yours as he helps you ride out your wave. He whispers praises against your skin while you come down.

Hoseok kisses your lips slowly, chuckling before whispering words that you will forever hold near and dear to your heart. 

“I love you.” He pushes your hair away from your face. “I love you so much to know that one day I’ll have to let you go.”

You giggle, turning in his arms, nuzzling your head into his neck. “I love you.” 

You feel him laugh, twinkling his fingers down your spine, “Let’s get matching tattoos.” 

You look up at him, raising a brow before shaking your head. “You just made me squirt, told me you loved me, and now you want to get matching tattoos?” 

“What better way to commemorate the best ego boost.” He shrugs. 

“You’re insane.” You untangle yourself from his embrace. You stand up, putting on his shirt. 

“I didn’t hear a no.” He says smugly, putting his arms underneath his head. 

“Because you’re an insane idiot who makes me agree to things like these.” You smile, before walking out of his room. 

“Great, I’ll make an appointment.” He shouts after you, “I love you.” He adds after a moment. 

You enter his kitchen, and turn on the lights. You can feel your smile take up your entire face. For a moment you realize that for the first time in a long time you felt happy. 

So yeah, maybe, things were finally looking up. 

“You’re late.”

Namjoon says after taking a slow sip from his coffee. He looks at you from over the rim of his glasses. 

You roll your eyes, setting your bag down on the empty chair. “It's raining, and I forgot my umbrella. I had to wait for the rain to stop.”

“You could’ve texted to let me know.” He shrugs, setting his cup down on the coaster and flipping the page of his book. 

You sigh, before (gently) throwing your phone onto the table. “It’s dead. And before you ask, no I didn’t bring a charger. No, Jungkook wasn’t in class today so he couldn’t give me a charger, an umbrella, or a ride. Jimin is sick. And Taehyung doesn’t even go to our school. He's probably getting high with his new fling, so I wouldn’t have been able to ask him either.” You say, listing all the solutions he would’ve thought about in seconds. 

“Mhm,” he nods, closing his book. “And your boyfriend?”

Annoyed, you let out a whine, crossing your arms in front of you. “I don’t know, let me go downstairs and ask him. I’m sure he can stop managing a business to give me an umbrella.” 

Namjoon leans his elbows against the table. “Trouble in paradise?” He tilts his head, clasping his hands on top of his book. 

You shake your head, pulling out your chair and slumping down in it. “Hobi and I are fine. It’s not like he’s leaving in two months or anything.” You throw your hands up in exasperation. 

It’s month seven into your shining relationship with Hoseok, and you should’ve known that things would start to hit the fan sooner rather than Later. Your boyfriend was in the middle of the most tumultuous change of his life. Things were moving quickly and his time dedicated to you was bumped down his monstrous daily to-do list. 

Yet you couldn’t do or say anything because isn’t this what you signed up for? 

“Ah, so there is trouble.” Namjoon chuckles before opening his book again, setting his fancy leather bookmark aside. “This is exactly why I don’t do relationships, they just attract problems.” He adds, giving you a pointed look. 

You roll your eyes, “Shut up asshole, not all of us can be like you and Rina.” 

“Sure you can, it's simple just don't attach any strings to it.” He shrugs, underlining a sentence in his book. 

“Two people who have been only exclusively seeing each other for years literally the definition of strings attached. You can keep denying it all you want but she’s your girlfriend. You guys do all the couple-y stuff.” You grumble, leaning back in your chair, looking out of the window. The gloomy weather adds to your shitty mood. 

“She’s not, we are not dating, and I don’t need to talk about this with you again. Rina and I are on the same page.” He finishes, taking a long sip from his coffee.

“Well, how would you feel if Rina was spending time with another guy, completely ignoring your presence when you walk into her coffee shop all wet and angry because your professor basically told you your topic for your essay was shit.”

Namjoon smirks, leaning back in his chair. “Sounds like you’re jealous of Yuri.” 

“So what if I am?” You bite, “I understand that he’s training her to take over his position, but all he talks about is her and what he needs to teach her when we’re together. And whenever I come in they’re always laughing at something behind the coffee machine. And I know she’s nice and all but I would like his attention too.” You scoff. 

Namjoon hums, tapping his index finger against the table. “Do you trust him?” 

The question doesn’t catch you off guard, the obvious answer is on the tip of your tongue. But with how things have been going lately. You can’t help but hesitate. 

“I don’t know anymore.” You whisper looking down at your hands, turning the ring on your middle finger. “I know I should, and I do…I think I do. It’s just things have been so shit lately and I feel like a burden to him because of everything he has to do.” 

Namjoon lightly kicks your foot under the table, making you raise your head to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I am being of much help, but he loves you. I know that whatever is happening he’s not doing it intentionally. Just talk to him about it.” 

If only it were that easy. 

“I’d love to but he never has time.” 

“Why not talk to him now then.” He says reaching into his bag to take out his cigarettes and lighter. 

“He’s busy downstairs with Yu–” 

“No, I’m not busy now.” 

You jump at the sound of your boyfriend's voice. You turn your head to look at him. A small tray with a mug of probably chamomile tea on top of it. His hair is shorter than the last time you saw him two days ago. He got a haircut and didn’t even tell you about it. That’s how low you have made it on his list. He can’t even send you a stupid picture of his new haircut. He can’t even send you a ‘goodmorning’ or ‘goodnight’ text. He also probably forgot that you were nervous for the meeting with your professor about your essay topic.

All these realizations make you want to roll into a ball and cry. You knew your time with Hoseok was limited. You just didn’t expect for the end to be so torturous. 

“That’s what I told her.” Namjoon speaks, narrowing his eyes at you for a second before turning his attention to his best friend. “She’s jealous of Yuri, because you’ve been spending too much time with her.” He shrugs, walking quickly to the stairs before you can bury him ten feet underground. 

You hear Hoseok let out a heavy sigh, and take the seat next to you. “Honeycakes,” he starts.

“Nice haircut.” You interrupt, slumping into your chair more. It earns another heavy sigh from the man sitting next to you. 

“Is Yuri the reason why you’ve been so upset lately?” He says placing a hand on top of your knee underneath the table. 

You let out a dry laugh before shaking your head. “No, it’s not her. It’s how you’ve been acting lately, it’s the time you’ve been spending with her. It's never having time for me anymore. It’s forgetting our date last week. It’s not even telling me that you got a haircut.” You finish, closing your fists to keep yourself from crying. 

Hoseok gives your thigh a squeeze before leaning back in his chair. “You know how things have been lately. I’m trying so hard to do everything I need to do. I don’t mean to be so dismissive but I can’t juggle everything at the same time.” 

You flick off a piece of lint from your jeans. “It’s nice to know that I’m just something you juggle around.” 

“That’s not what I meant. You knew what would happen when I started my application process. You said you understood.” 

“I did, or I thought I did Hoseok. I didn’t think I would become so secondary to you.” You sniffle. “I love that you’re chasing your dreams, but this is me trying to support you. I’m trying to understand how you’re feeling. But you stop me. You have shut me out and now I’m just something you remember sometimes.” You close your eyes, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks. 

The last thing you wanted was to be crying like this in public. 

“I-I want you to tell me when you’re having a hard time like you used to. I want you to feel like you can relax around me when we’re together. But every time we are together, we either argue, you don’t talk, or you talk about work, deadlines, or how you can’t wait to move. How do you think that makes me feel Hoseok?” 

Hoseok sighs, and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “I’m sorry.” He kisses your temple. “I wish you would’ve told me earlier before it got to this point.” He whispers, rubbing your back, while you lean your head onto his shoulder. 

“But Hobi like you said, this is what I signed up for. This is what I agreed to.”  You add bitterly. 

“Yes Honeycakes, but you’re still my girlfriend. And I know that I haven’t been the best boyfriend lately, but I do care about you and I do love you.” He lifts your head from his shoulder. He gently grabs hold of your face, making you look at him. “Just like how you want me to talk to you when something is bothering me, I also want you to talk to me.” 

You close your head sighing, “You’re right, I’m sorry that I keep making things difficult.” 

He shakes his head. “You don’t. I’m the one that can’t seem to keep my girlfriend from doubting me. I’m the one who hasn’t told her how much I yearn to be in her presence at every waking moment.” He says, his thumbs wiping away your tears. “I love you, and I think that’s why I’ve been so avoidant lately. I know that our days are numbered and I would rather ignore the fact that I’m moving away soon than cherish the moments I get to spend with my family, my friends and you.” 

You nod, holding out your pinky out to him. “I promise to keep trying my best.” 

He hooks his pinky with yours bringing your laced fingers up to his lips. “I promise to keep trying my best too.” 

“I love you,” You whisper, letting go of his finger and wrapping your arms around his waist. 

His low laugh makes his chest vibrate against your head, “I love you.” He adds, rubbing soothing circles over your back. “Now, can you please drink your tea before you get a cold. I texted you earlier asking if you needed an umbrella but you didn’t answer. And now look at you coming in here all pouty and wet.”  

You raise your head to look at him, opening your mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by the forgotten voice of your friend. “Her phone’s dead.” Namjoon throws his lighter onto the wooden table. 

Hoseok tsks shaking his head, reaching over to push the tray of your lukewarm tea closer to you. “I should’ve known. I knew you didn’t charge it last night, just like I knew that you left your umbrella at my place.” He pinches your cheek. “How did your meeting go?” 

“He basically said that I need to restart my essay topic over again.”

Hoseok laughs, bopping your nose with his own. “Well did he say those exact words?” 

“No but it was basically implied.”  You emphasize. 

“Fine, I’ll talk to your study partner if my baby isn’t being told that she’s a genius all the time, then what am I paying him for.” He jokes, which earns a glare from said study partner. 

“You’re not paying me, idiot.” Namjoon rolls his eyes, grabbing his brown leather messenger back and stuffing his cigarettes into the front pocket. 

He’s grateful that he came back to smiles and not tears. The stoicness of his actions makes the two of you laugh hard. Your laugh resonates longer in his mind. It always does. No matter how much he tries to deny it. You always resonate longer in his mind. But he pushes that fleeting thought aside. 

Namjoon is happy. 

His friends are happy. 

Things in his life were finally looking up. 

“I have to go, but don’t be late next time and charge your phone.” He says hoisting his bag onto his shoulders. 

You nod, saluting in his direction, before bursting out into a fit of giggles as Hoseok tickles your side. 

Namjoon doesn’t stay for longer than he needs to. He’s already running late to meet Rina, but he can’t hide the smile taking up his space.

He can’t help but feel proud that things were finally looking up for you too. 

a/n: I hope you have enjoyed it. I will try not to be so MIA and upload a little more frequently rather than every 6 months haha. But my life has been pretty busy lately. In the past few months. I have moved to a different part of Seoul and I got a new job. I basically just hang out with my friends when I have free time haha. I also do dance class 3 times a week, and I started personal training last week. But I will try to manage my time better because I do miss writing and this story!

[shadowlali]

drabble #1 | phillip graves x fem!reader

[18+] summary: Phillip cheats on his wife with you. wc:~400 masterlist | AO3

He sinks his fingers into your hips, keeping your pussy flush to his mouth. Phillip is needy and desperate as you ride his face. He sucks and licks the juices that cover your inner thighs, then back up to your swollen cunt. You tremble in Phillip’s hold, leaning to keep your hands on his lower stomach as you ride his face. 

This is wrong on so many levels. One, he’s your neighbor–your married neighbor. Two, you’re young, practically half his age. It wasn’t supposed to happen, but the moment you arrived from college for spring break, your mother sent you with a plate of freshly baked cookies to say hello to the new neighbors. 

He opened the door bare-chested and with an easy going smile. Phillip asked what you were studying and if you were old enough to drink. A few sips of his whiskey and you landed right in his lap, his fingers quickly moving your panties to the side while you slid down on his cock, bouncing as if your life depended on it.

His hand covered your mouth to stop your high pitched moans from reaching his wife’s ears. She was upstairs napping, having had a long tennis lesson. 

And sure, she caught you swallowing her husband’s cock a few days later, after her lesson finished early. Phillip simply told you to stay on your knees, doll while he calmed his wife.

The promise of a new handbag and the eventual end to this affair once you return to college, calmed her down significantly. She made sure you're on birth control and made you promise you’d give him back by the end of next week. 

You don’t want to take Phillip away from her, you just want to play with him while you’re here. None of the guys at school can eat your pussy until you’re crying from overstimulation or fuck you hard enough that you become too cock-drunk to remember your own name. So far, only Phillip can do that for you.

You lean forward a little more, feeling Phillip latch onto your clit and move his hand to slap your ass. You suck on his tip, sliding your tongue over the slit before opening your mouth wide to accommodate his size.

You know he’ll only let you suck him for a few more minutes until he decides to drag you to the edge of the bed and fuck his cum inside of you. 

Once the both of you are done, he’ll prepare a warm bath and you’ll help him change the sheets before his wife gets home. And you’ll keep your promise that you’ll give him back.

Even if his cock fits perfectly inside your cunt and his fingers know how to tug your nipples until you’re coming, you’ll give him back. You have to...right?

-

a/n: i'm going to do little drabbles like this every once in a while that won't have a ton of structure like my other works and definitely not proofread lol

[sailor-aviator]

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Don't Hang'em Til Noon: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Jake "Hangman" Seresin is a notorious leader within the Dagger Gang of the old western territories of the United States. You, a recently orphaned socialite from the eastern seaboard, find yourself swept off to live with your older brother who has set down roots in said western territory. Determined to to make the best of your situation, what will you do when said outlaw sets his sights on you?

Warnings: Language, Angst, Smut, Arrest, Admittance of feelings. Think that's it.

Word Count: 7.01k

A/N: And we're back!! I decided to combine chapters nine and ten together, hence why the chapter is so long. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated!! 18+ ONLY!! Find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator! If You're feeling kind, please consider donating to my ko-fi!

Masterlist || DGU Masterlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

It had been weeks since the moment on the train, and you were starting to wonder if maybe you should move back to Baltimore. You hadn’t said a word to Jake since you stomped on his foot, save for the occasional comment about farm chores, and he had certainly done his damndest to avoid even looking at you it seemed.

You found yourself lying awake at night, thoughts drifting towards those of mossy green eyes and gentle touches that made your heart sing and your skin burn with longing. What little sleep you were getting was cut short by nightmares of faceless threats that grabbed at you, tearing your clothes and leaving you gasping for breath as you shot up out of bed. It wasn’t until your eyes would skim over the small, ornate wooden box that your heartbeat would slow and your shoulders would relax. You would crawl slowly out from underneath the sheets, padding over to your dresser where the box sat and run your fingers gently over the ornately carved flowers. Your heart would clench in your chest, and you would try to fight off the tears that gathered in your eyes to no avail.

Stupid, stupid man, you’d think to yourself, scrubbing furiously at your eyes before grabbing the box and trudging back to bed, laying it by your side with a hand on top before drifting back off into a dreamless sleep.

“You look like hell,” Bunny muttered to you one day, polishing a glass as Birdie sat beside you. The teacher had been teaching Bunny how to read, and she had started giving the other girl small writing assignments that she would check over.

“Your penmanship is getting better!” Birdie chirped at Bunny, beaming brightly as she slid the paper back across the bar, casting you a sideways glance. “And she’s right. You look awful. Have you been getting any sleep?”

You grimaced, scratching anxiously at the wood of the bar.

“I have,” you sighed, chewing on your bottom lip. “But it hasn’t been much.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain blond that’s been moping around my bar for the past three weeks, would it?” Penny asked, giving you a knowing look as she set a crate of beers down on the counter. You refused to meet her eyes, glancing up when a familiar brunette sat down on the stool next to you.

“Your brother is worried too, you know,” Nat told you, studying you closely. “He says you’ve hardly been eating and that it’s like watching a ghost walking around the house.”

“He’s exaggerating,” you scowled, rolling your eyes. Nat gave you an unimpressed look, and you looked around to see matching expressions from the other women. You sighed, burying your face into your arms atop the bar.

“Somehow, I don’t think he is,” Nat muttered.

“Are you even going to tell us what happened between the two of you?” Bunny asked, face a mask of indifference as always despite her tone of concern.

“Does it matter?” You mumbled, glancing up at her. Penny huffed, placing a hand on her hip as she leveled you with a look.

“It does when I’ve had a moody cowboy practically drink through all of my beer every night for the past three weeks,” she frowned, concern still evident in her eyes despite her disapproving tone. “Whatever happened between the two of you, I’m sure it can be fixed.”

You didn’t say anything, eyes focused on the grains of wood underneath your fingernails.

“I…” You trailed off. “I said such horrible things to him.”

“What did you say?” Birdie asked you, leaning forward and resting a hand on your arm in comfort. You felt tears well up in your eyes, and you sniffled slightly.

“I told him that he didn’t know me, that maybe I wanted to move back to Maryland and marry someone there.”

Silence. You glanced up to see the other four woman all glancing at one another. Penny sighed, looking back at you with a grimace.

“It’s not so bad,” she offered. “You could have said worse, I’m sure. It’s nothing you can’t apologize for.”

“You didn’t see his face,” you countered, sitting up straighter. “And I tried to apologize, but he wouldn’t listen.”

“Jake is stubborn, that’s for damn sure,” Nat muttered, shaking her head. “He always has been, ever since we were little. You know he refused to take a payment for fixing Mr. Benson’s roof last spring? And then when Jake went to buy that emerald necklace for whatever reason, Mr. Benson had to practically shove the necklace down his throat because he wouldn’t accept the money from Jake. Pretty sure Jake snuck some behind the counter when the old man wasn’t looking, anyway.”

“Did you say emerald necklace?” You asked her, head shooting up from where you had rested it back on your arms.

Natasha nodded. “Yeah, it was that really pretty one that sat in the window for forever! I wonder what he did with it? I haven’t seen Sarah with it at all, and she’s the one he buys jewelry for.”

“You mean,” you swallowed, “he didn’t steal it?”

“Jake’s not that kind of man, honey,” Penny smiled. “He sure likes to give off that impression though, doesn’t he? He’d rather you think the worst of him before he corrects you. Thinks it’s the same as humility, the fool.”

“I,” you breathed, feeling your face grow pale. “I told him I wouldn’t accept it because I thought he stole it or bought it with stolen money.”

“Wait, he tried to give it to you?” Birdie asked, eyes wide. “And you told him no?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hanging your head once again. “I’m such a fool.”

“I hardly doubt that it was your own doing,” Bunny muttered, storing the glass she had just finished polishing. “Sure, you’re just as much a fool as he is, but it’s his own damn fault for not telling you.”

“That’s right,” Natasha nodded, turning to face you fully. “You two just need to sit down and talk, tell each other exactly what you mean and what you feel. Christ, I thought your brother was going to chuck that damn pocket watch at Jake’s head when he came slinking into the firm to give it to Benji.”

You sat straight up as your heart stopped, tears gathering in your eyes.

“He did what?” You choked, eyes wide in horror, skin pale and clammy.

Natasha regarded you, seeming to hesitate before continuing. “He came into the firm just last week, trying to give Benji this old, silver pocket watch. Said he picked it up while with you in Baltimore, and that he wanted to return it to where it belonged. I’ve never seen your brother so mad, Scout. I thought he was going to pass out from how loud he was yelling. Told Jake to keep the damn watch and get his head out of his ass.”

You were vaguely aware of Birdie blushing at Nat’s coarse language beside you, but your mind was reeling from the brunette’s words. He had tried to give your father’s pocket watch back? You thought you were going to be sick as you stood, moving to leave the saloon.

“Are you okay, Scout?” Bunny called after you, worry in her voice that was mirrored by the look on Penny’s face.

“I just remembered I have chores that need tending to,” you murmured, moving more on auto-pilot than anything in that moment.

“Do you want me to walk you home?” Natasha offered, already moving to stand, but you waved her off.

“No, no,” you frowned. “I’ll manage on my own, thank you. I have some thinking to do.”

Nat didn’t seem too sure, but slowly sat back down on her stool as you walked briskly out of the saloon and onto the street. The wind whipped at your cheeks, the cold biting your skin and turning it red. You made your way home, mind numb as you replayed Natasha’s words over and over again in your head. He wanted to give the watch back? Was Penny wrong? Were you too late to make amends?

Your heart beat quicker in your chest as your mind ran a mile a minute, hardly noticing the ranch hands that rode up from the far field as you moved mechanically towards the barn. The horses would need fresh hay, and you were running behind on your to-do list for the day. You made your way up to the loft, pushing a large bale of hay towards the ledge, watching as it fell to the ground floor with a large thud. Making your way back down the ladder, you didn’t notice the figure that hovered at the barn door, too absorbed in your own thoughts.

It wasn’t until you felt a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist from behind as you moved to lift the hay bale that you were snapped back to the present.

“God dammit, Scout,” Jake hissed, picking you up and setting you down behind him. “How many times do I have to tell you that this isn’t a job for you?”

You stared at him, saying nothing as he turned around to start sorting out the hay into the different stalls.

“I can do it,” you muttered, taking a step forward. Jake glanced over his shoulder at you with an unimpressed look before going back to what he was doing. You took a step towards him, then another, and then another, and then more until you were standing by the hay, kneeling down as you pushed his hands away.

“I can do it,” you snapped this time, scooping up as much of the hay as you could before moving to stand, stumbling slightly in the process. Jake started towards you, hand outstretched to help you, but you stepped away, glaring up at him. You wouldn’t cry in front of him, you couldn’t.

Jake frowned down at you, dropping his hand back to his side as he regarded you. You felt your bottom lip begin to tremble, and you turned away, trudging towards the nearest stall and dispersing the hay.

“Scout, stop” he sighed, and you ignored him, moving to continue your task. As you made to make your way over to the next stall, Jake grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Stop,” he repeated, eyes earnest, shifting to worry as they took you in. You ripped out of his grasp, immediately going on the defensive.

“What?” You growled at him, mustering up all of the false bravado that you could as you met his green eyes. The eyes that you missed so dearly. He seemed to hesitate before squaring his shoulders and rummaging through his pockets.

“I wanted to give you something before you left for Maryland,” he said. You saw a flash of silver as he pulled his hand out. “It seemed only fair that you should have this back.”

He held the pocket watch out to you, the small bird still swooping at the bottom of the ornate design.

“What?” You asked, eyes widening as you stared at the watch. You couldn’t stop the tears that flooded your eyes, and you let out a choked sob as all of your emotions came crashing down at once. Stumbling to the side, a hand stretched out to brace against the stall door, a wail tore from your throat. It was a sound that even surprised you in how raw and unfiltered it was. You gasped for air, but none seemed to come to you as you choked out sob after sob, hardly being able to tell when one ended and the next one started.

Jake’s eyes widened as you fell apart in front of him, watching you wearily as if you were a wild animal that would turn on him at any moment. He took a tentative step towards you, waiting for you to push him back, but was instead surprised when you grasped at him, falling into his arms and latching onto his shirt as if it were the one thing that could keep you grounded. Your wails and sobs still rocked your body, tears now staining the white cotton of Jake’s shirt as you pressed your face into his chest. His arms enveloped you, holding you gently but firmly as he swayed you from side to side. A hand rested on the back of your head, slowly stroking your hair as he pressed his face into your temple. This was what you wanted.

Your cries and tears slowed to a trickle, sobs replaced by hiccups as you regained control of your breathing, Jake gently cooing at you the entire time. Jake moved to pull away, but you clung to him tighter, glancing up at him with wet eyes.

“Please don’t let me go,” you begged him softly, and you saw a whirlwind of emotion in his gaze as he looked at you. He seemed unsure on how to respond at first, but with a set of his jaw, he nodded down at you slowly.

“I’ll be right here until you’re ready to go,” he said. “I’ll hold you until you don’t need me anymore.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes tightly as you pressed yourself firmly against him.

“I’ll always need you,” you whispered, another sob wracking your body. Jake chuckled bitterly.

“No, you won’t,” he muttered, ire in his tone. “You’ll go back to Baltimore, and you’ll find yourself a husband. Someone who can give you all the things you want. Someone who can make you happy.”

He pulled away with more success this time, just enough to hold up the watch.

“You’ll give this to someone who’s deserving of you,” he whispered, his own eyes shining now. “Someone who you love.”

You stared at him, so many emotions swirling within you. This beautiful, stupid man who had insulted you the first time you met him. This man who had inserted himself into your life with little regard to social etiquette. This man who had pulled a gun for you when you were vulnerable and scared. This man who had carved you not one, but two beautiful presents. This man that had threatened to kill for you simply because you had cried. This man that listened to you and respected your moral code enough to go out and get an honest job. This man that stood before you, ready to let you leave without a second thought because he thought it was what you wanted.

“I’m not going back to Baltimore,” you said finally, face grave as you spoke. Jake’s eyebrows shot up in shock.

“You’re not?” He asked you.

“Jake, it’s been three weeks since we returned,” you replied, frowning. “If I was so eager to go back, don’t you think I would have left by now?”

“I think there’s a lot of planning that goes into something like that,” he countered. You scowled at him, pulling away completely now and putting some distance between the two of you.

“Nat told me you tried to give the watch to Benji,” you accused, glaring at the offending silver pendant.

“Did she tell you that he wouldn’t take it?” He countered with a frown.

“She did,” you confirmed, clasping your hands in front of you. “Said that my brother practically threw it back in your face, he was so angry.”

“That temper appears to be a family trait,” he muttered, and you had to suppress a smile.

You were still mad at him, after all.

“I figured,” he continued, taking a step forward, “that he just wanted me to give it back to you. It’s a family heirloom, and he has his own. It’s an important thing to you, and it’s only fair that you should give it to the person you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

He held the watch out to you, and the two of you stared at each other for a moment. Slowly, deliberately, you reached out and took the watch from him. You ran your fingers over the plants and birds etched into the sides with care, contemplating your next words.

“You’re right,” you hummed, glancing up at him. His jaw was set, eyes glistening as he watched you. “This watch should go to someone who I can call my husband. Someone who can give me the things that I want and who will make me happy.”

Jake sucked in a breath, shifting from one foot to the other as you continued.

“Someone who is deserving of me,” you breathed, eyes shining as you gazed up at him. “Someone who I love.”

Jake hung his head as you finished, and you caught the faintest hint of a sniffle as you stepped forward. You took his right hand in yours, squeezing it lightly before opening it and placing the pocket watch back into his grasp. You gently curled his fingers around it, holding his hand in both of yours as you looked up at him.

His green eyes bore into yours, a questioning look on his face as he frowned.

“I don’t understand,” he murmured, shaking his head. You rolled your eyes, moving to wrap your arms around his neck as you leaned into him. Without a thought, he wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close as your lips hovered over his.

“You idiot,” you chuckled, eyelids drooping as you stared into his eyes, willing him to see what the two of you had known all along. “I love you.”

Jake stared at you, eyes widened in shock. He studied you, seeming to try and find any trace of deception. When he saw that there was none, a grin broke out on his face.

“You do?” He asked quietly, eyes sparkling with joy now.

“Mhm,” you nodded, leaning in closer so that your lips brushed his gently. “I love you, Jake.”

His lips crashed against yours, desperate to feel you. You kissed him back with just as much passion, breaking away after a few moments. Jake’s lips chased after yours, but you pulled away from him with a giggle.

“Come with me,” you said in a hushed voice, grabbing his hand and pulling him out of the barn. Jake followed you eagerly, practically racing you up the steps and into the house. Your home was silent, indicating that no one else was there, and you quickly pulled Jake up the stairs and into your room.

Once you had crossed the threshold, Jake slammed the door shut, spinning you around so that you were pressed up against it. His lips grazed yours as his hands ran around to grab the back of your thighs, hoisting you up and locking them around his waist. His lips molded to yours as he pressed against your core, and you gasped as you felt the hard evidence of his desire press into your most sensitive parts, and Jake used this as an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours in languid strokes.

“Need you,” he moaned desperately, nipping at your bottom lip. Your hands ran across his shoulders, your right running up to tug on the strands of blond that curled at the nape of his neck. He let out a moan that had you grinding your core back against him, earning a whimper from the man in front of you.

“You have me,” you promised, pulling him back in for a kiss. His tongue was hot against you as you continued to grind down onto him. His hands moved to your hips, guiding your movements as he thrust up into you every so often. His lips pulled away from yours as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to the bottom of your earlobe. He sucked the flesh in between his lips, nibbling on it lightly before letting it go.

“Say it,” he breathed, hand palming at your breasts as you let out a wanton moan. You tilted your head as he began to suck on a patch of sensitive skin, making you see stars as he nipped every so often, laving the spot with his tongue. “Come on, honey girl. Say it.”

“I love you,” you gasped when he gave a particularly hard bite to the same spot just as he thrust up into you. Jake smirked against your neck, letting your legs drop from around him as he pulled back. You whined at the loss of contact, which only made Jake’s smirk grow bigger.

“Don’t worry, pretty girl,” he cooed, moving to sit at the foot of the bed. “Can’t do what we’re about to do with clothes on, can we?”

It took you a second to understand what he was saying. You supposed you should have felt apprehension at the very least, but in that moment, all you could feel was a mixture of desire and…love.

You quickly undid the buttons of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor. You then removed your socks and shoes, followed quickly by your shirt and then your bloomers. You were soon left standing in front of Jake in nothing but your corset and chemise. While you had undressed, Jake had removed his own clothing, now standing in front of you in just his drawers. You felt a blush creep up your neck as he stared at you, a familiar warmth in his green gaze.

Jake walked back over to you slowly, raising a hand to unlace your corset. You sucked in a breath as it fell away from you, hitting the floor with a light thud. His hands moved to the bottom of your corset, pausing as he looked at you for permission. You nodded, swallowing thickly as his fingers gripped the bottom of the garment, pulling it up and over your head. You were completely exposed to him now, and you moved to cover yourself out of embarrassment.

“No,” Jake murmured, shaking his head as he gazed at you. “I want to see you, honey girl. Want to see what’s mine.”

You shuddered at his words, a jolt of pleasure running up your spine as you pressed your thighs together. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jake who chuckled lightly before turning you gently so that the backs of your knees brushed the bed. He laid you down, shifting you so that your head rested against the pillows. You reached for him, and Jake leaned down to press his lips to yours once again, licking into your mouth with soft, deliberate strokes.

You gasped when you felt his fingers trace your folds, gathering the wetness that lay there and stroking back up to your clit. Your hips jolted off the bed, and he hushed you, pressing his lips in gentle kisses back towards your ear.

“Already so wet for me, sweetheart,” he chuckled, drawing small figure eights onto your clit, and you mewled at the sensation. “Always so responsive for me. Always such a good girl for me. How did I get so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like you in my life, hm?”

“Jakey,” you breathed, locking eyes with his as he pressed a finger into you, causing your back to arch off the bed.

“It’s okay, honey girl,” he cooed, reaching up to stroke your hair. “I’ve got you, sweet thing. Always feel so tight and warm. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around my cock.”

You felt yourself clench at his words and he added a second finger, scissoring you open as he continued to stroke into you.

“You like the sound of that, huh?” He chuckled, placing a tender kiss to your jaw. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Giving you what you need?”

You nodded your head vigorously, eyes never leaving his. He smirked once again, looking down at where his fingers disappeared inside you before glancing back up.

“Tell me what it is you need, baby,” he whispered, watching you fall apart as he added a third finger and hitting that spongy spot inside of you. You mewled, throwing your head back. Jake kissed down the column of your throat and over the curve of your breast. He took your right nipple into his mouth, laving the bud with his tongue. The sensations were becoming too much, and you felt the familiar tingle begin to grow in your lower stomach.

Jake let go of you with a quiet pop before switching his attention to your other breast. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, holding him to you as your hips raised in time with the stroke of his fingers, desperately chasing your high.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he rasped, gazing up at you from between the valley of your breasts. “Tell me what you need.”

“Need your cock, Jakey,” you whimpered, grinding down on his fingers. “Need you inside me. Need to feel you fill me up. Need you.”

Jake reached up to take your bottom lip between his teeth, sucking on it gently before pulling it and letting it go.

“You have me,” he echoed your words from earlier. “Now come.”

At his command, the pleasure inside you burst, washing over you in waves as you cried out, clawing at his shoulders as he continued to pump his fingers into you slowly, riding out your high. As you came down, he slipped his fingers out of you, and you felt bereft of his touch. You watched in awe as you raised his fingers to his lips, taking them into his mouth as he made a show of licking them clean.

“Just like honey,” he hummed. You reached for him, pulling him to you as you kissed him. You licked into his mouth, moaning as you tasted yourself on his tongue. You pulled back just enough to speak against his lips.

“Want you inside of me,” you breathed, staring into his eyes, the green swallowed whole by the black of his pupils. “Want you to make love to me.”

Jake’s breath hitched as he studied you.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded, reaching a hand down in between the two of you to grasp his hard length. Jake nearly choked as you ran your palm up and down him, grasping lightly every so often.

“I’m sure,” you whispered. Jake’s eyes bore into yours before nodding, shuffling out of his own drawers, baring himself to you. Your eyes widened as you took him in. His shaft curved towards his stomach, the tip an angry red as it leaked pre-cum.

You swallowed thickly, reaching your hand out once more to run your fingertips over the head, moving down to grip him firmly. Jake let out a low groan, throwing his head back as you stroked him experimentally.

“So good for me, darlin’,” he moaned, reaching down to remove your hand. He shot you a playful wink as he slipped his fingers through yours, resting them by your head. “But if you keep that up, I’m going to come before we even get to the fun part.”

You smiled shyly up at him as he took a hold of himself, running his length up and down your folds to gather the wetness you so freely gave him. You let out a high-pitched whimper every time the tip brushed against your clit, and you threw your head back at the pleasurable feeling. Finally, Jake rested the head against you, glancing up at you once more.

“Are you sure?” He asked you, and you nodded.

“Please, Jakey,” you whined. Jake pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of your mouth before leaning back. You gasped as you felt him press the head of his cock into your tight hole, the sensation foreign but not altogether unpleasant. He pressed a little more of his length in, pausing to let you accommodate to his size. He cradled you in his arms, leaning back down to whisper gentle words of encouragement into your ear as he slowly pressed more and more of himself into you. After what felt like ages, you finally felt the coarse hairs of his base press against your clit, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine that had you clenching around him. Jake let out a hiss, pressing his face into the column of your throat. Jake took your other hand in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing them on the other side of your head mirror to the ones on your right. He pulled back to look at you, eyes hazy with pleasure.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” He asked you, and you nodded, whining as he pulled back out of you slowly before thrusting back in. He continued his movement, brushing his nose against yours as his pace built, the head of him hitting that spot inside you with every pass. It wasn’t long before the vague discomfort gave way to pleasure, and soon your hips were raising to meet his.

“Such a good girl,” he moaned, giving you a kiss that was more teeth than lips. “Feel so fucking good wrapped around me like this. Taking me so well, yeah? Can feel you squeezing me, gripping me like you don’t ever want me to leave. Your cunt is so greedy for me and my big cock, huh? Such a greedy pussy, and it’s all mine now.”

You moaned wantonly at his words, your head thrown back into the pillows as he continued to rut into your soaked core. A squelching sound could be heard from where your bodies connected, but you didn’t have it in you to feel embarrassed. Not when his cock was hitting you in all the right places, his filthy words only adding to your excitement.

“Jakey,” you cried, feeling the pleasure begin to peak. Jake grunted as you clenched particularly hard around him.

“That’s it, honey girl,” he cooed, releasing your hand to cup your cheek as he gazed down at you. “Want you to cum around me, milk me dry. Milk me for all I’m worth. My balls have been aching for weeks. Havin’ to jerk off at the thought of what this sweet cunt would feel like when she drains me dry. Oh, fuck.

He gasped as your pussy spasmed around him.

“That turn you on, baby? The thought of me jerkin’ off to the thought of fillin’ you up with my cum? This pretty, little pussy is just begging me to come inside her, huh?” He groaned, thrusts becoming harder, and you could feel the coil begin to tighten.

“You close, huh, honey? I can feel how close you are. Can feel how hard your grippin’ me. That’s it, sweetheart. Come for me. Come all over my cock.”

His words were all the permission you needed, and you came with a loud cry, body spasming underneath him as he continued to stroke in and out of you as you rode out your high. Jake’s hips began to move faster, chasing his own high as he pistoned in and out of you, the sound of skin slapping echoing throughout the room.

“Gonna fill you up, honey girl,” he groaned, eyes glazed over as pleasure washed over him. “Gonna fill you up, and maybe even knock you up. How’s that sound? Just thinkin’ about you all round and swollen with my baby has me goin’ crazy. Want you leakin’ with my cum by the time I’m through with you. Everybody in town is going to know you’re my girl, and they’ll know how good I make you feel. How good I take care of my girl. Fuck.”

His words had you tightening around him. They shouldn’t have made you feel the way you were feeling, but the sight of Jake so lost in the feel of you as he neared his end had another orgasm ripping through you, right off the back of the first one.

“Knew you’d like the sound of that,” he smirked, thrusts becoming sloppy. “I’m gonna come so hard for you, baby. Gonna fill you up with so much cum you’ll be leaking me for days. Shit. Need to hear you say it, baby. Tell me what you told me earlier. Be my good fucking girl and tell me.”

“I love you,” you keened, barely coherent as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Want you to fill me up, Jakey, please. Wanna feel you.”

“Shit, darlin’,” he gasped hips stuttering, and you felt red hot spurts begin to fill you. Jake pinched his eyes closed, lost in his own pleasure as he began to babble. “Fuck! Oh, fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming for you, baby. It’s all for you, that’s it. Take it. Take all of it and milk me. Jesus Christ. Oh, I love you. I love you. I love you so much, Scout. Oh…”

His hips slowed as his orgasm subsided, and he practically collapsed on top of you as the last tremors of his release rocked through him. You ran your fingers through his hair, skin hot and sweaty as you both calmed down. Jake’s head rested against your chest, and you let out a contented sigh as he placed a gentle kiss to the swell of your breast before looking up at you. His green eyes were filled with love and awe, emotions that you were sure reflected in your own.

“I love you,” he murmured, earning a small smile.

“I love you too.”

You awoke the next morning feeling a soreness between your legs, but a pleasant buzz filling you nonetheless. You shifted, taking note of the strong arms that held you tighter against a broad chest at your back. Warm lips pressed gentle kisses up the curve of your shoulder and to your temple.

“Good morning, honey girl.”

You smiled turning to meet the bright green eyes of Jake Seresin.

“Good morning,” you greeted softly, turning so that you faced him. His head was propped up against his hand as the other one traced up and down your side. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I figured you’d be sick of me by now.”

“Sick of you?” He chuckled, shaking his head, leaning forward to meet you in a lazy kiss before pulling back. “I’ll never get sick of you, pretty girl.”

“So,” you hummed, glancing at him slyly. “What’s next?”

“Well,” he began, smirking lightly. “I figured we’d get dressed, and we’d go downstairs so I could make you breakfast, and then we have a repeat of last night.”

“Is that all you want?” you asked him quietly, insecurity rearing its ugly head as he spoke. His smirk dropped into a frown, and he shook his head.

“No,” he stated firmly, looking at you seriously. “No, Scout. I meant what I said. I love you. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anything. I intend to make an honest woman out of you if you’ll have me.”

You smiled at his words, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

“I suppose you’ll do,” you smirked, earning a chuckle from the blond.

“You’re such a tease,” he admonished, leaning in to press his lips to yours. You opened your mouth to him, letting him stroke your tongue with his in easy strokes.

“Jake!”

The two of you jumped as you heard the front door slam shut, Bradley’s voice carrying up the stairs. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to get out of bed, searching for some article of clothing to throw on to preserve your modesty.

“Jake, I know you’re in here. I need your help!”

Jake cursed from the other side of the bed, throwing his trousers and shirt on as you threw your chemise over your head just as Bradley burst through the door. Jake scowled at him, moving to shield your body with his.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” He snapped, glaring up at the brunette. Bradley rolled his eyes, giving you an apologetic smile.

“Hey, Scout,” he greeted briefly before turning his attention back to Jake. “Look, I’m glad that the two of you have made up, but this is serious. I need your help to wrangle the group.”

“What’s going on? Did Javy sleep with someone’s wife again?” Jake scowled, watching you as you moved to put more clothing on. “If you hadn’t guessed, I’m kind of busy, and Javy is a big boy. He can take care of his own messes.”

Bradley shook his head. “It’s not Javy, it’s Bob.”

Jake and you became more alert at that, eyes shooting up to look at Bradley as he stood in the doorway, shifting from one foot to the other nervously.

“What do you mean?” Jake questioned, scrambling to put his boots on.

“Some men down at the saloon were saying some pretty nasty shit to Bunny, and Bob stepped in. That’s when I came to get you ‘cause I knew it was about to get nasty, and I need all the help I can get.”

“Shit,” Jake muttered, turning to look at you. He placed his hands on your shoulders, giving you a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I need you to stay here, honey girl.”

“What?” You frowned, shaking your head. “No, I’m coming with you.”

“Scout, please,” he pleaded, looking at you with furrowed brows. “This could get ugly, and I’d feel a lot better knowing that you are here at home. Safe. Will you please just do this for me?”

You regarded him for a moment, nodding finally, and Jake let out a relieved sigh. He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before turning to follow Bradley out the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

He disappeared down the hall, and a few moments later you heard the front door slam shut once more. You sighed, looking around the room before deciding to strip your sheets. It took you a few minutes to gather all of them, placing them in the basket by the door and moving with it downstairs. You placed the basket by the back door, eyeing the kitchen before shaking your head.

“Ridiculous,” you muttered, making for the front door. You walked briskly down the road and towards the saloon where a small crowd had gathered. You pushed your way through, earning jeers and curses from the people around you. Just as you made your way to the front of the crowd, your heart dropped, ice chilling your bones. You saw Marshal Simpson slam Jake up against the side of the saloon, cuffing his hands behind his back. Jake winced at the rough treatment, Simpson hauling him back so roughly that he stumbled a ways, glaring back at the older man.

“Is this all really necessary?” Jake drawled, sarcasm dripping from his tone as Simpson scowled.

“Yes,” the marshal snapped, pushing Jake forward as they began to walk. Jake’s eyes scanned the crowd as he moved, eyes landing on you, softening. He paused in front of you, and you felt the tears begin to stream down your face.

“Hey, sweet girl,” he whispered, glancing back at Simpson who glanced between the two of you. “Everything is going to be alright, yeah? Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll be out as a free man before you know it.”

“You shouldn’t lie to her, Hangman,” Simpson said, casting you a sympathetic look. “We all know that this is the end of the line for you.”

Jake frowned at his words, moving to say something before Marshal Simpson pushed him forward towards the town jail. Jake cast looked over his shoulder at you, giving you a tight smile before being ushered through the doors.

Your eyes scanned the street for anyone who might be able to help, but you didn’t see any of the other Daggers as the crowd began to disperse. You felt despair and hopelessness fill you. You had been so close to happiness, and you knew in your heart that Jake was a different man from the one the marshal was sent to track down.

Your eyes continued to rove over the townsfolk before landing on a familiar face. The pit in your stomach dropped, terror gripping at you as your breath came out in short gasps. Black, bottomless eyes stared right at you, a malicious grin on Isaac’s face as he watched you. You choked back a scream as he tipped his hat to you, and a wave of realization hit you.

This had been a setup, a trap. Isaac had planned this, and he had set the Dagger Gang up to be arrested. As far as you knew, Jake was the only one that had been caught, but that would have been enough for the man who stood on the opposite side of the street. You gathered your skirts and ran in the opposite direction, desperate to get away from the evil man. You had to find the other Daggers. You had to find Maverick or Tom. Someone had to have a plan on how to get Jake out of this mess.

You rounded a building off of the main street, leaning against it and sinking to the ground. You let the tears flow freely, the sense of helplessness overtaking you as you realized just how much trouble Jake was in. Even if you managed to get him out, there was no guarantee that it would be legally or without injury to someone, and yet you were determined to try.

You had just had a taste of what it would be like to lose Jake, and the thought alone sent another wave of tears rolling down your cheek. No. No, you would not lose him again. You scrubbed at your eyes, putting on a brave face as you stood. Squaring your shoulders, you glanced around to find you were alone. You made your way back, heading for Maverick and Penny’s home.

Someone would have a plan, and you were bound and determined to help.

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[rinhaler]

I Pick a Tail Number and We Could Be Tourists

CHAPTER SUMMARY: you're stranded out of town and it's all Megumi's fault. Time to find a hotel to crash in!

boyfriend!yuuji itadori x f!reader x bully!megumi fushiguro

WARNINGS : 18+, alcohol consumption, arguing, name calling, strong language lmao, PG chapter tbh!

WORDS : 9.2k

notes : dangerously close to running out of old chapters to edit and repost LOL

       LAST CHAPTER ┊ MASTERLIST ┊ NEXT CHAPTER

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Megumi didn’t wait for you as he re-entered the aquarium and you had to work double time to keep up with his brisk strides.

He said that you should go inside together so you could figure out this mess you found yourselves in; and yet it sure feels like he’s trying to leave you behind.

He only slows down when he starts to text, which of course, piques your interest. It’s probably his dad or his sister, letting them know what happened and asking for a ride. He comes to a complete stop as you arrive at the café. Megumi pulls out a chair, he intended it to be for himself, but when he looks up and notices your worried gaze, he gestures it to you and takes another seat.

You must look terrified if even Megumi is showing you that much kindness.

“Are you texting Toji?” you ask him, and he scoffs immediately.

“No? Why would I?”

“Because we are fucking stranded and you said we were going to plan what we are going to do!” you whisper-shout at him, doing all you can to remain level-headed and keep your fury to a minimum. You’re so overwhelmed and angry you know the smallest push will have you freefalling into tears.

“I’m gonna call that asshole teacher of ours and see if they can turn around.” Megumi tells you, scrolling through his phone until he lands on your lecturer’s phone number. You hear a faint ringing through the speaker again and again. A vision of rage flares across Megumi’s features as the ringing goes to voicemail.

“Call Toji!” you demand. It prompts Megumi to kiss his teeth and roll his eyes to look at you, he studies your body language and expression, and he has to hold back a smile when he sees how serious you are. “Or I will.” the threat causes Megumi’s vague amusement to fade into annoyance as he adjusts his seating position to sit up straight.

“Go on then.” he challenges, moodily. He rests his ankle over his knee and slouches more in his seat, avoiding eye contact with you as he proceeds to play on his phone and ignore the gravity of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You tut, quickly finding Toji’s name in your contacts and dialling.

Ring… Ring… Ring…

“What did he do?” he huffs, answering the phone sounding a little out of breath.

“N-Nothing, Toji. Well he, I guess he—“

“What? What’s going on, princess?”

Megumi’s eyes are burning into yours as he warns you to choose your next words carefully. Part of you wants to protect him; you aren’t sure if it’s out of guilt for your tattling earlier this morning or if it’s out of fear for what he’ll do to you. Your mouth hangs open as you consider, and then turns to a smile that you’ll hope Toji will hear through the phone.

“He’s been fine. But, uh, we missed the bus home.”

“Was it his fault?”

“W-Well, umm…”

“Just tell me sweetheart. Was it his fault you missed the bus?” he questions, a stern, authoritative tone in his speech. You do all you can to remain composed and not expose yourself to Megumi. A small little gulp travels down your throat as you find the confidence to croak out a singular word.

“Technically…”

“Put him on.”

“But—”

“Put him on the phone right now.”

He’s never spoken to you like that before. It was a condensed version of how you hear him address Megumi. You quickly hand the phone to his son and hear a quiet ‘for fuck sake’ under his breath as he presses your phone to his ear.

He looks cute, you think, with a pink love heart phone case on the side of his head. With this and the colouring book, you’re starting to think he’s not all bad.

Maybe he even has a softer side.

He at least has a sort of nice side if today is anything to go by.

You’re brought out of your soft ideation as you see a vein bulge against Megumi’s temple and his teeth grit whilst his father screams bloody murder at him down the phone. Even without speaker phone turned on, you can still hear him.

“Enough!” Megumi bites back, finally, and Toji actually pipes down once he hears his son snap. “Can you come get us or not?” he hisses through his teeth. His eyes bulge open as he hears a response he hadn’t expected. “What do you mean no? Where the fuck are you right now? It’s loud.”

“I mean no, shithead. I’ll talk to you about it later, I can’t get you though. I’m sorry, kid. Tsumiki is at work too so she can’t.” Toji tells him. Megumi sighs and shakes his head in your direction. It’s odd, considering Toji said he’d drop anything and everything to rescue you if needed be. But you suppose things happen, life gets in the way, it can’t be helped. You know he would if he could. “Give her the phone back.”

He does, holding it out for you to take. He gets up, trudging towards the barista to avoid listening to whatever his father is going to say to you.

“I’m so so sorry I can’t come get you, baby. You’re a credit card kid though, right? I’ll be able to wire you the money tomorrow if you wanna get a cab back. It’s only fair I fucking pay since it’s my dumb kid's fault.”

“Three hours in a cab? I can’t, I’m not really talking to my parents right now and I’d feel obliged to if I spent that much money on their card.” you tell him. He nods, despite you being unable to see it. He understands. “Megumi’s gonna try and ring our teacher again, maybe they’ll come back for us.”

“Yeah, maybe.” he responds, “I know it isn’t ideal but… if there’s no one else, maybe you could book a hotel room for the night or something?”

“Oh! Absolutely not!” you reply. The chipper tone in your voice with such a funny answer makes him snicker down the phone. “I’ve just remembered Gojo exists, I’ll call him!” you beam, impressed with yourself as the idea strikes you.

“N-No, princess, wait—!”

“Bye Toji!” you hang up, albeit a little guiltily. But you waste no time searching your contacts for Gojo.

You jump a little when you hear the sound of glass thump against the table you’re sitting at. He got you and himself milkshakes. Banana for you and strawberry for him. There’s something quite endearing about Megumi and the colour pink.

“Thanks. Did you know banana is my favourite or was it a guess?”

“I’m gonna try that fucking idiot teacher again.” Megumi speaks, totally ignoring your question. There’s no way he could have known it was your favourite, you’ve never told him and you doubt Yuuji had. He gets up and walks away from the table as he listens to the mind-numbing ring of his phone attempting to connect him.

Your call to Gojo is useless. His smarmy voice immediately grates on you as he asks how you got yourself in such a predicament. It only edges his theory more that you have a thing for Megumi now that you’re stuck with him. And you are stuck, since he’s also unable to help.

“Didn’t think you’d need me today so I’m out of town. How about your favourite Papaguro?” he taunts.

“He can’t. I don’t know what he’s doing but he said he can’t.” you tell him, coldly, hoping your tone of voice will quell his curiosity and put an end to his teasing.

“Oh really? How interesting. Let me talk to Megumi—”

“Goodbye, Gojo.” you cut him off before he can continue anymore. Your blood is boiling, but you manage to relax as you see a stream of texts from Toji begging you not to call Gojo.

Oops.

Megumi returns, tossing his phone onto the table. You think if he fell into his seat any harder he might have put a hole through the floor. He looks furious. A face like thunder and his arms folded across his chest. His foot begins tapping against the floor speedily, almost like a tick of some sort and soon it travels up his leg so that he’s bouncing it. You don’t stare, but you look over to him wondering when he’ll be ready to talk. He looks at you when you lean forward to sip the straw of your milkshake.

“I thought it was weird that they left without us,” he starts, copying your actions and slurping the pink liquid he purchased through his straw. “Whenever I’ve been on trips in the past. They say a certain time to be back, but they never actually leave until everyone is accounted for on the bus.”

“Right? But this isn’t like school, we’re adults. It’s university. So they don’t fuck around when it comes to this stuff, I guess.” you respond. He shakes his head though, disregarding your statement.

“I went on a trip with my old university and they waited for a bunch of mature students who were late back to the bus. Like, thirty minutes late. They don’t leave students behind on trips, ever. Unless…”

“Unless?”

“Guess what that useless excuse for an educator just told me.” Megumi smirks. You shake your head, giving up on his little game before you even begin. You see his eyes roll over white before he leans in closer to you across the table, his chest almost spilling his milkshake over. “Apparently I sent a text to those stupid ugly girls telling them that we caught a ride home from Toji. And that idiot believed them.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Did you text them, Megumi? Because this seems like something you’d definitely do to try and fuck with me.”

“Don’t be dense. I’m not fucking with you anymore, am I? If I was fucking with you I would have left you here alone.” he assures you. You nod, finding his explanation believable enough to dispel any doubt. You’re at least glad he isn’t angry with you for doubting him; he’s given you more than enough reasons to, after all. “How was your call with Gojo?”

“It’s a no-go,” you smile. You even manage to coax a little smirk out of Megumi as well. “He’s out of town, busy. And I assume a charming boy such as yourself doesn’t have any friends who could get us.”

“I assume the girl who pissed herself at Independent doesn’t have any friends either.” he bites back. He scrunches his eyes as soon as the words leave his mouth. Regret, you deduce. You look away from him to stop yourself from crying, and you know he won’t apologise to you for saying it.

Keep it together. Don’t let him see you cry.

“Call your parents.” Megumi demands.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“I said no. I’m not fucking talking to them and you’re not going to bully me into doing it. Especially after what you just said. I cannot believe I thought—”

“Don’t fucking start. Sorry, alright? Just slipped out.” he mumbles, and you huff out a sigh. It’s a huge deal, honestly. You didn’t think he was capable of apologising. Hell, you didn’t even know he knew the word sorry. You shake your head, dismissing him and his bullshit as you try and come to terms with your situation. “No Toji or Gojo or bus coming back. No cab. No friends. What’s left, O’Keeffe?”

“I- Toji suggested something but I said no to that, too.” you hesitate to tell him. He looks at you, curiously, waiting for you to elaborate. A scoff escapes you as you recall the idea and debate on telling him or not. It can’t hurt to mention it, you suppose. “A hotel.”

“He’s smart sometimes, I’ll give him that. Why did you say no?”

“I don’t want to stay here any longer than necessary with you, let alone share a room.” you tell him bluntly, and he laughs at your brazenness. He catches himself, though, his face returning to the stoic expression it’s used to. He can’t let you think he finds you funny.

“Why would we share? The rooms will be dirt cheap. It might not be what you want to hear, but, we’re stuck here for tonight at least.” he tells you. And unfortunately, you’re starting to think he’s right. You’re shit out of luck. There’s no escape from him and you are stranded in town until someone can come and get you both. Of course, the reasonable thing to do would be to call your parents and just get over your petty grudge and talk to them. But it wasn’t a viable option.

You can’t.

You just can’t.

You pull your laptop out of your bag and connect with the hotspot on your phone. Megumi is squinting incredulously. As if you’re the type to come up with evil plots and schemes.

“I’m looking up hotels in town, apparently there’s only three. Do you want to call?” you wonder. He grabs your laptop and turns it to face him, dialling the number for the first hotel. You start calling the second and it rings for an awfully long time.

“This one’s fully booked, give me the last one.” he demands, you turn your screen for him to see and he attempts the next number.

“Oh hello, I was wondering if you had any rooms available for—”

You’re cut off by the most unwelcome answer you could have possibly imagined. The look on Megumi’s face is telling you that he doesn’t have a much better answer for you either. His teeth are grinding and his face is almost completely red. Instead of one bulging forehead vein you think you can see three of them.

“No rooms.”

Fuck.

“I— We’ll take it. Is it okay if we pay on site? I’m not sure how many days… Yeah, sure. That’s fine, uh, Fushiguro for the booking, I guess. Thanks so much.” you sigh, hanging up the phone.

“Nice one, O’Keeffe. And you’re putting it in my name so Toji has to pay, real smart. At least we’ll have our rooms for the night and we can get some—”

“Our room.” you correct him.

“What?”

“They only had one fucking room available for us.”

“No.”

“It’s two double beds so it’s not like we’re sharing. Listen, I’m not thrilled about it either, Megumi.” you snipe at him, unwilling to tolerate his attitude when you’re already in a foul mood.

“If you weren’t being such a petty, stuck up, bitch, your parents could have—”

“You can eat shit along with my parents. Fuck this,” you moan, standing to your feet and heading for the exit. You’re quickly stabbing the letters of the address into Google Maps so you can walk your way to your hotel.

Megumi knows he’s going to have to catch up with you at some point, but he’s stubborn, unable to admit defeat or appear weak.

But he is at fault for everything. He is the one that got you both into this mess and he is the one that keeps pushing your fucking buttons.

He does get up, though. It takes him a while to see you when he gets outside into the pouring rain. But when he does, it doesn’t take long to reach you. And almost as if to protect his fragile masculinity, he deems it necessary to overtake you like he’s leading the way. Guiding you to safety.

He doesn’t even know where he’s going, looking over his shoulder every few seconds to make sure he’s going the right way. He stops at an intersection looking completely out of his depth. You don’t help him, if he’s so insistent on leading the way then he can take it from here.

You don’t mind catching hypothermia in pursuit of proving a petty point.

His eyes wander around. And suddenly they settle. He knows he’s lost and clueless about what he’s doing. But ever the bullshitter, he comes up with a valid excuse for a pause in the journey.

“Should we get some clothes?” he asks. You scrunch your face up, not understanding why such a random question left his lips. He points in the direction of a department store, hoping to clarify his reasoning. “We only have what we came in and we’re drenched. I hope you aren’t planning on sleeping naked since we’re sharing a room.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Fine. Let’s go, I’m not buying your shit, though.”

“Bank of Toji, O’Keeffe. A pair of piece of shit credit card kids stranded in the middle of nowhere. Classic.”

“I’m not a piece of shit credit card kid, Megumi.” you inform him.

“Oh yeah? Who’s paying for that cosy little love den again. You and Yuuji must be working so hard to pay the bills.”

That shuts you up fairly quickly. Maybe he’s right. Are you really nothing but a trust fund baby? A useless girl who can’t get by without help from her parents. You never thought about it before, but it seems that way the more you think about it.

They’re the only reason you’re able to spend as much as you want at the drop of a hat.

They’re the only reason you have a nice house to live in instead of a gross little shoebox dorm room while you’re studying.

Megumi is a lot of things. A lot of awful things you couldn’t even begin to list. But it’s not often that he lies. And it’s even rarer that he’s wrong.

The store is nothing special. It’s nice and cheap which makes you feel real good inside. You may be spending your parents’ money, but at least it isn’t anything for them to call you up about.

You pick out a few outfits and some pyjamas to wear in the hotel room. You look over one of the clothes rails and see Megumi flirting with one of the shop assistants.

You feel hot all of a sudden. Angry. Why is he fucking flirting with her? Is now really the time to be doing this? He’s acting like everything is fine. Normal. Like you aren’t stuck here for however long.

You aren’t sure why, but something snaps in you. Before you can even ask yourself if it’s a good idea you’re marching up towards the girl and Megumi, rudely intercepting their conversation.

“I’m done buying stuff. Have you got everything?” you ask him.

“Oh, I’m sorry I didn’t— Is this your girlfriend?” she asks. You scoff quickly and Megumi laughs at her assumption.

“Long story. Here, babe,” he smirks as he holds her hand and pulls a biro out of his back pocket. He scribbles his phone number on the top of her hand and winks at her. “Might be in town for a few days, call me up if you wanna have some fun.”

“Ugh.” you mutter, earning an elbow in the ribs from him.

“O-Okay, Megumi. I’ll call you. And nice to meet you, uh—”

“Bye.” you speak, assuming she was about to ask your name. You had no intention of giving it to her and watching them drool over each other for a second longer. “Not very professional of you, is it? Flirting with customers?” you tell her as you walk towards the checkout counter. She scoffs lightly, looking at Megumi for reassurance.

He does nothing but laugh, shrugging his shoulders as he walks after you. He’s silent for a while as he watches the woman at the counter ring up your purchases. You’ve got a face like thunder and he can’t even begin to describe how amused he feels. He waits for you to pick up your shopping bags before putting his own clothes down and waiting for the same service.

“What’s wrong with your face?” he asks you.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re pissed. Clearly. But I’ve never seen you look like that before. Is it…”

“Don’t you dare.”

“Jealousy?”

“You’re a fucking idiot. I’m not jealous. I don’t want you bringing girls back to our hotel room and listening to you cum in thirty seconds and think you’re impressive.”

“Right.”

He picks up his bags and heads for the exit. You know he’s winding you up on purpose when he winks at the girl again. It’s like he’s pouring salt and vinegar into a wound just to see how long it will take you to scream. You’re already fragile. Vulnerable. Lonely. He’s treating you as if you’re some social experiment to see how much he can get away with. He knows it’s a lot. He’s put you through a lot already.

What else is left?

—

You finally make it to the hotel.

Megumi had given in and decided to let you show him the way while he attempted to get through to his dad again. It took a few calls until he answered. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary either, both of them yelling and getting angry at each other until they finally got down to what they needed to talk about.

Paying the front desk.

He hands the phone to the man checking you in while he takes down his card details.

“Could you speak up, sir? It’s a little loud.” he requests.

“I said that earlier. Where the fuck is he?” Megumi wonders, facing you. You shrug your shoulders, assuming he didn’t actually expect you to answer.

How are you meant to know? It’s not like you're in cahoots with Toji just because he has an attentive interest in you and your wellbeing.

Megumi might annoy the life out of you and make your life hell at any opportunity, but you’re not the type of girl to keep information from him just to get the upper hand.

“All sorted. We’ve got his details, enjoy your stay.”

“Can I ask why it’s so busy? I noticed a lot of uh… interesting clothes at the store. And this was the only hotel with a room, is there a reason?” you ask him.

“It’s our big town festival this weekend. The anniversary of its founding. We get dressed up in gaudy clothes. Hold a parade. A beach party. Don’t be fooled by the weather, it’ll be scorching for the parade.”

“We need the key to the room.” Megumi states, bluntly. Clearly not giving two shits about the upcoming festival. The man nods and holds the key out to him.

“There’s a shop around the corner that sell condoms and lube.” he tells you both.

“He’s NOT my fucking boyfriend!” you yell, storming towards the stairs with your bags. Megumi laughs, again, saying goodbye to the receptionist as he follows after you. “The fuck do I look like? As if I’d date someone like him.” you mumble to yourself.

“You’re gonna hurt my feelings.” Megumi teases.

You ignore him, picking up the pace and running up the stairs so you can escape him. You know you need him to unlock the door to the room, but you need at least a few seconds of peace from him.

You can’t stand it.

You can’t stand him.

He doesn’t chase you. He doesn’t pester you anymore. You rest your back against the wall beside the door to your room as you wait for him. You’re almost at your breaking point. You can feel it brewing. Your chest is aching and your mouth is filling with water. You can even feel your jaw begin to ache.

What could you have done to deserve this?

Megumi arrives and doesn’t say a word. You’re thankful. You aren’t sure if he’s doing it for his benefit or yours. Does he know if he prods at your sensitive skin any more you’ll crumble to dust?

The room is quaint. You take the bed closest to the bathroom; leaving the one nearest to the window to him. Both of you drop your bags on each of your beds. He’s pacing around a little while you sit on the mattress.

Looking around is getting to you.

This is real.

You’re really stuck in a fucking hotel room with Megumi Fushiguro. What would Yuuji think if he could see you now? What were you fucking thinking by giving him the benefit of the doubt? Maybe you’d have been better off if you let those girls bully you on the coach and harass you in the art gallery.

At least you’d be on your way home.

At least you wouldn’t be stuck with him.

The spiralling thoughts in your mind are the final straw. You burst into tears and you couldn’t be anymore humiliated if you tried. Megumi looks over his shoulder to see you sobbing.

He feels awkward.

He’s not used to seeing anyone get emotional, let alone you. He’s only seen you like this because of him. And he can’t deny that this is his fault as well.

So, why can’t he find it in him to feel bad?

He goes in the bathroom and picks up some toilet roll for you. He doesn’t hand it to you, though. He just throws it at you. It makes you laugh a little. It’s just so him. You have to admit despite his obscure approach, he’s really been trying with you since the coach trip. You get yourself a handful of toilet roll and start dabbing it at your cheeks.

“Why did you do this to me, Megumi?” you ask so quietly it’s barely audible. “You keep fucking with me. And… this was without trying. Or was it planned?”

“Shut up. What good is this doing, huh? We’re in this, now, there isn’t shit we can do about it so suck it up.”

“You walked out of the aquarium and fucked everything up. You said you were going to piss but you were outside on the phone! Who was it? Tell me!”

“I won’t tell you again, princess. No business of yours so shut your fucking mouth.”

“It is my business when you get me into a situation like this because of it. You made this happen. And now you’re planning fucking dates and doing all that you can to make this experience even more miserable than it already is!” you yell, eyes and nose running quicker than you can keep up with. You must look a total mess and it’s making you even more embarrassed. It’s just more ammunition to fuel him with, more he can hold over your head and make you feel shit for.

“Who I’m on the phone with is my business. Who I go on dates with is my fucking business. Stop being a bitch. Are you on your fucking period? You’re so quick to shut down any chance of you being my girlfriend but you’re acting like you are since you’re being a nagging cunt.”

“Megumi—”

“Shut up.”

“Please… Please, don’t bring her back here.” you beg quietly. It makes him huff in annoyance as he turns away from you. You see him shaking as he grabs hold of the wooden dressing table as he tries to stabilise himself. “You at least owe me that, Megumi. You’ve done so many fucked up things. Unforgivable things, but here we are. I’m… I’m sobbing in a hotel room that I’m sharing with you. I’ve never asked you for anything other than to stop bullying me. But please, please don’t bring her here.”

You see his eyes screw shut in the mirror. He’s biting his lower lip as he thinks everything through.

You’re right.

He knows you’re right.

There’s an awful lot that he’s done to you and you’ve forgiven him without him even saying sorry. It shows how big of a person you are. How kind and sweet and genuine you are.

But he doesn’t care.

He just doesn’t fucking care.

Why does he get such a kick out of making you suffer? There’s something so enthralling and hypnotic about you that he can’t get over. You’re always in his fucking head and even seeing you bawl your eyes out he can’t find it in him to feel bad.

“FUCK!” he shouts, angrily trudging over to his bed to pick up one of the bags.

It’s the bag he held up earlier outside of the aquarium when you finally found each other. You never got a chance to ask what was in it. It had the logo for the aquarium on it, but you were too distraught and angry to question what he had purchased.

“Here.” he speaks, hurtling the bag towards you. You duck out of the way before it can hit you.

“Megumi!” you yell back, wiping your tears with your hands as your eyes widen in anger at him. He’s not paying attention though. Searching through his pockets for a cigarette and heading towards the exit.

“Goin’ for a smoke. Sick of the sight of your miserable fuckin’ face.” he tells you, slamming the door behind him. You throw yourself backwards so that your head is in the pillows. You’ve never felt so alone as you practically wail into the desolate hotel room.

What you’d give to have Toji pick you up right now and take you home.

To tell Megumi off for being so cruel to you again. Or even just to have Yuuji hold you in his arms. You’d kill to hear his voice. Hell. You’d even settle for a text at this point.

Why is he avoiding you?

You manage to calm yourself down the longer Megumi is gone from the room.

Deep breaths. One. Two. Three. Four.

You get up and look at yourself in the mirror. You’re thankful you packed some of your makeup into your tote bag for emergencies. Your face is a mess, you look like you’ve just been dumped on your wedding day.

You decide to go to the bathroom to rinse it off completely. The cold water splashing on your face almost stops your heart. But once your face is clear, you dab the water dripping down with a towel.

As you steady your breathing, you run your fingers through your hair once you leave the bathroom. The bag that Megumi tossed at you catches your eye. He threw it like it was yours. But you didn’t get anything from the aquarium. You’re approaching it like it’s a fucking bomb. He’s probably put insects in it to bite you or filled it with something else equally disgusting.

But you can’t help having a curious nature.

The bag is light when you pick it up. A single tear rolls down your face when you look inside.

“Oh, Megumi…” you sigh.

It’s the shark. The shark plushie from the aquarium you thought was so adorable. It doesn’t excuse everything he’s done. Anything he’s done, actually.

It certainly isn’t worth being late for the bus.

It isn’t worth you being stuck in this hotel room. It didn’t excuse everything he’d done and how he treated you in the past. But you can’t help but wonder how different things could be if he had shown this side of him from the start.

You get cosy in bed and cuddle your shark. You decide to name him Gerald. He’s softer than you remember him being in the gift shop, and that is by no means a complaint. It’s such a nice feeling to have something so adorable and soft to hold.

There is a split second you think your heart might have actually stopped when you hear Megumi open the door. You jump out of your skin but remain comfortable lying under the covers of your bed. He walks in, chuckling, when he sees you. He shakes his hand through his hair, messy water droplets falling from the ends.

“Thank you for Gerald, I love him.”

“S’not a gift, you owe me for him,” he tells you. At that, you sit up. Wide eyed and humiliated that you actually thought he’d do something so nice for you. You set down Gerald and open up the quilt to go and get your purse. “It was a joke. Gerald, huh?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. People names on animals is funny, I guess.” you answer. He nods lazily, like he isn’t fully committing to agreeing with your opinion. He throws his jacket to the ground and sits on top of his own bed. “Why did you do this for me?”

“I saw you left him when I went back to find you.” he speaks, “I- you seemed like you really wanted it so I just got it for you. That’s it. You’re welcome.” he finishes, leaning backwards on his elbows as he stares you down. It’s incredible how uneasy you can feel in such an instant whenever those intimidating green eyes study you.

It’s like you forget how to breathe.

How to be.

How should you act when you’re worrying whether or not every action you take may be used against you?

“I’d… look, I have a lot of thoughts and I just can’t say them without feeling stupid.”

“I don’t think you’re stupid, Megumi. You’re just a dick.” you laugh, and he laughs back. You aren’t wrong. “I’m scared of you, I don’t think I’ll ever get over that feeling with you. You’re compelling. Forceful. Dominant. It scares me, but getting me a plushie… standing up for me with those girls… colouring a fucking kids book in with me. They’re such kind, human things I didn’t expect you to be capable of.”

“Human? Do you think I’m a monster?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time, Megumi. You became a monster under my bed that kept me up at night.” you tell him. He shakes his head at that. You can’t decipher whether it’s self-reflection or disregard of your statement. Maybe he thinks you’re just being dramatic. “I don’t know what we are right now but I’d never think you’re stupid. So, if there’s anything you want to talk to me about or tell me I won’t… I won’t judge you for it. But if you want to keep it to yourself that’s fine too. Thanks for giving me a gift.”

“The girl from the store sent me a text. She asked if I want to go on a date tonight.” he admits. The admission takes you aback slightly, not expecting that to be the thought he was wanting to speak of.

“O-Oh.”

“I’m not bringing her back here. You’re right, I owe you that much. And I… I told her I can’t go on a date, ever.”

“Why?”

“’Cause it’s my fault we’re stuck here so I shouldn’t leave you alone, right? You’re fucking me up, O’Keeffe. Got me growin’ a fucking conscience suddenly.” he complains, but it makes you smile.

“I can look after myself, you know. Don’t let me stand in the way of you getting a nut.” you smile. He shakes his head putting another cigarette between his lips. He only left the room to smoke because he wanted space and to give you the same, not because it’s a rule of the hotel. There’s even an ashtray on his bedside table for him.

“Don’t care if you can or not. I don’t want to see her, anyway. I wanna go out with you.” he tells you.

“I’m sorry?”

“Get ready. The receptionist told me there’s a bowling alley nearby, ‘m not sulking in this shit hole room all night so get dressed.”

—

He’s a little jealous that he didn’t think of your genius idea of buying a raincoat. He did buy an umbrella, though, not that it did much to protect his new clothes or his hair. The bowling alley is a fifteen-minute walk away from the hotel. You’re glad you had opted to wear your favourite trainers instead of a pair of heels for your trip. Walking around today had been a breeze. And you were both hoping this would be the type of bowling alley that allows you to wear your own shoes.

You’ve always enjoyed places like this. Arcades that are dark with neon lighting. You look over to the lanes while Megumi pays for both of you and see an assortment of neon-coloured pins.

“Could we have a lane with pink pins, please?” you ask, sweetly. Megumi looks up from the card machine to grimace at you. But the man nods kindly, agreeing to your request.

You’re guided to the furthest lane away, right next to the wall. The desire to take a few pictures is too strong to ignore. Megumi scoffs but doesn’t comment. You get a few snaps of him while he’s entering your names into the system. It shocks you that he’s letting you go first. There might be a gentlemanly side to him, after all.

“Do you need the sides up?” he asks, patronisingly.

“Don’t be a dick about it. Yes, please.” you respond. He rolls his eyes but does as you ask. The sides come up for you to take your turn, and they’ll retreat for his. “Ah this is so cool! I didn’t know lanes could do this now.”

“Hurry up and take your turn. Does princess need a pink ball to match her pink pins?” he questions. Whenever you bowl, you always choose the lightest weight. Either a six or an eight. There’s only an eight here and it’s a hideous lime green colour. But it’s fine. You watch the ball zig zag off the sides before knocking down seven pins. “Not bad.” he hums. You saunter back to the bowling balls and pick up another. You only manage to hit one pin, but it’s one more than you had expected.

“You’re up, Fushiguro. See if you can beat that.” you tease, sticking your tongue out.

He swaggers over to the machine with as much confidence as an A-lister. He picks up the heaviest, pink, ball with ease. He raises his eyebrows twice in quick succession, like he’s gloating he got to use a pink ball and you didn’t. He poses triumphantly before he’s even rolled the ball. Like he’s some sort of fucking pro.

The ball flies from his hand and skids down the lane quicker than you can blink. It doesn’t roll until it connects with the centre pin. One of his legs is dramatically behind the other, a position he chooses to hold until he sees each and every pin knock down.

Megumi turns around and grins at you, smirking with pride and the state of shock your face is currently displaying. You point to the lane and then back to him as your words get jumbled in your mouth. He lazily points back at you, a fake look of contemplation overcoming him.

“So, out of curiosity, do you think I beat that?” he teases. He takes a seat and waits for you to take your next turn, casually looking through the drinks menu that had been left for you both to peruse.

“Are you some sort of bowling prodigy?”

“Nah.”

That’s it. That’s all he’s giving you as he orders himself a beer on the screen menu. He orders a drink for you, too, though he doesn’t tell you that. You take your turn again and manage to somehow get a spare.

By the time your drinks come he’s taking his next turn. You’re surprised that he ordered you a strawberry and lime cider, but it isn’t unwelcome. Maybe he’s trying to get you drunk so he wins even easier than he already is. He comes back, swigging his beer and silently gloating about his second strike of the evening.

“Thanks for the drink.” you smile. He nods and he drinks, his Adam’s apple bobbing dramatically with each glug of his beer. “Are those strikes just luck, then?”

“Does it matter?”

“A little, I guess. Did you just bring me here so you could feel superior?”

“Take your fuckin’ turn. You need to get it into that thick head of yours that not everything I do is about you.” he speaks sternly. It feels like you’re five years old being scolded by your parents. You tuck your hair behind your ears and get up to bowl again. You’re elated when your ball zig zags perfectly enough to earn a strike. It fills you with false confidence, a belief that you might actually be able to keep up with Megumi.

You sit and sip your drink as you watch him take another turn. He lets his head loll backwards as he exhales in annoyance.

“Unlucky.” you mock, as he cranes his head to face you. A split. He manages to get two out of the three pins left standing. You wonder for a second if he might have done it on purpose to placate you, and then you remember who you’re dealing with.

As tense as the atmosphere seems to be between the two of you, you’re managing to make fun for yourself. The music is loud, something you’d hear in a nightclub. You can’t help but shake your hips whenever you get up to roll. You drink your cider a little quicker than intended and you start ordering more. They go down smoother than water and your turns become messier. It’s going to be an easy win for Megumi, but it doesn’t stop either of you trying.

“Let’s go again!” you yell before gasping when you realise what song is playing. Love Myself, by Hailee Steinfeld. “I LOVE ME! GONNA LOVE MY—”

“That’s enough,” Megumi interrupts as he yanks you away from the lane. He’s holding your hand impossibly tight, guiding you in the direction of the exit. You can tell he’s embarrassed but your tipsy mind decides it’s a good idea to keep pushing his buttons anyway.

“Aw, Megs, don’tcha wanna teach me how to bowl? Since you’re such an expert?”

“I- I don’t want to do that. Shut up, we’re going home.”

“I wish we were going home. You fucking idiot. Letting us get stranded here because you had such an important fucking phone call that’s such a big God damn secret.”

“Oh for crying out fucking loud.” he says, stopping in the middle of an alleyway he decided to take to save time. “You’re so lucky you’re you right now, you have no fucking idea.”

“W-What does that mean?”

“I hate you. I hate you nagging and bitching in my ear constantly. But most of all I hate how pathetically weak you are. I could leave you here, you know. In the middle of this shady alley to let whatever piece of shit do whatever the hell he wants with you. And I’d sleep just fine. Do you understand? I despise you.”

“But you’ve been so—”

“So nice? The only reason I’m not gonna do that is because you’re you. Let me say it simply enough for your stupid little mind to understand. I don’t wanna deal with your family, my family, Gojo, and fucking Yuuji jumping down my neck because I left a spoilt bitch to rot in the middle of nowhere.”

“You’ll never change, will you? Why do you keep doing this to me?”

“Enough.” he hisses, clenching your wrist and pulling you out of the dingy alleyway and back onto the main roads. The streetlights glittering as rain lashes down across the yellow bulbs. You’re crying, again. You probably would have been able to hold it together if you were in your own sober mind.

How could you be so stupid? After what he did to you last time there was alcohol involved, you’re such an idiot for letting your guard down for a second around him. Granted, he didn’t do anything particularly evil to you. But he definitely has a way with words that make you feel like you’re a speck of dust in the grand scheme of the universe.

You’re nothing.

—

He shoves you into the hotel room ahead of him and slams the door behind himself. The hideous flickering fluorescent lights are making you feel sick. You’re wobbling on your feet without Megumi guiding and supporting you. You begin to lean, to slope. Your feet are staggering until finally you collapse onto the ground.

“You are a fucking embarrassment. Get up. You need to sleep this off.” he demands. You get onto your hands and knees and start crawling towards your shopping bags searching for your pyjamas. He watches as you feebly rifle through them before he gets sick and helps you. He pulls out the purple fluffy vest and shorts you purchased and throws them in your face. “I didn’t have you down as being such a lightweight. It’s hard to watch, should be ashamed of yourself.”

“Didn’t use—”

“Huh?”

“Didn’t used to be, Megumi… I haven’t touched a drop since you…”

You begin to sob as you think about what a fool you’re making of yourself in front of your bully. It humbles him, though, hearing the reason you couldn’t hold your alcohol is another thing that’s down to him. He almost feels sorry for you. It’s enough for him to help you to your feet and lead you into the bathroom to get dressed in private.

“Fuck!” you yell, knocking over a multitude of complimentary bathroom products as you stumble to the ground yet again. Megumi rushes in to see you on the floor, still fully dressed and struggling to get your clothes off. You’re sobbing, now, face shining with sticky tears and regrets. “Megumi, I can’t—”

“Alright.” he picks up your pyjamas and sits on the ground with you, pulling you between his legs. Your shirt is lifted over your head for you before he replaces it with your new soft vest. “Bra on or off?” he questions.

“O-Off, please.” you answer. His hands slip under your vest as he unhooks it. He pulls down the straps and reaches around your front and under your clothes again. It’s awkward. Intimate. But he doesn’t cop a feel. He’s being a genuine help to you. Yanking away your black bra and tossing it aside. “Thank y-you.”

He stands up and helps you to your feet as well. You’re forcibly turned to face him as he undoes the button on your jeans and pulls down the zipper. He turns you again to pull them down to your ankles.

“Do you sleep with your panties on or off?”

“Um, I—”

“I won’t look, just want you to get ready for bed.”

“Off…” you sigh, nervously. You look over your shoulder and see him nod. He keeps his gazed fixed on the bathroom tiles as he hooks his fingers into your simple black thong. They’re pulled down so you can step out of them and into the purple shorts. You wiggle your hips so he can put them onto you comfortably. You’ve still got socks on. You’d managed to force your trainers off when you fell over next to your bed, but who knows if you were able to keep them together.

Megumi stands up and throws you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bed and throwing you onto the mattress. He takes your socks off for you and tucks them into your trainers, leaving the beside the door to the hotel for you to find tomorrow.

“Under the covers.” he instructs, and you obey.

“Why are you so… it’s like you’re two different people.”

He ignores you, tucking you in until you look comfy enough. You’re cuddling Gerald and he hates the way his heart flutters when he sees how sweet you look with the gift that he got you. What the hell was he thinking? He goes to the bathroom and comes back with a glass of water, setting it on your side table in case you need it during the night.

“Megs, I’ve got some aspirin in my tote. Would you mind?”

He gets it for you and throws it your way. It hits off the glass, spilling a little water but nothing too damaging. Megumi starts to undress, uncaring of your presence. He bought himself a pair of sweatpants and a plain white t-shirt to sleep in. He walks around, turning out all of the lights before he gets into his own bed.

“’m not tired.” you tell him.

“You will be. Lie there and be quiet ‘til you fall asleep.” he tells you, not that he thought you’d listen to a word he had to say.

“Can we talk until we sleep?”

“No.”

“I wanna know why you’re so nice to me one minute and awful to me the next. Please, tell me why?” you request. He just grunts, though, not liking the thought of having to listen to you drone on until you pass out.

“You annoy me.” he says simply. It’s clear it isn’t a good enough answer when he’s rewarded with silence. But it’s the truth. You do annoy him. Like nobody else ever has before. “You piss me off and you make me feel angry. But you’re nice so it fucks me up, alright? I don’t know how to act around you because you make me feel too many things.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Drop it.”

You wrack your brains for something else to talk to him about. You’re sure talking about yourself isn’t a good idea, and talking about him might be even worse. Anything to do with Toji has the potential for an all-out war in the hotel room. You think asking about his history with Yuuji might be a sore subject, too.

“How come you’re so good at bowling?” it’s perfect. It’s about him but it’s not a heavy subject that can trigger him into another fit of abuse and rage. And it’s a valid question, too, considering he just schooled you at the bowling alley. He rolls onto his side to face you, and you do the same. He can see Gerald peeking out of the duvet and grins.

“Practice. Used to skip school a lot and play at the arcade.”

“Ever the bad boy, ‘Gumi.”

“Cut that shit out right now. I hate that nickname.” he demands. It makes you laugh knowing four letters has such a heated reaction from him. “Wasn’t doing it to be bad, just didn’t like school. Or people.”

“Were you… bullied? Or something?”

“No. Just didn’t care about shit. Toji was in and out and I was just angry about it. And I lost my mother and didn’t really have anyone to— Why am I telling you this? Stop asking me dumb shit.”

It’s the first time you’ve heard Megumi even come close to opening up about his mother. When you hear the vulnerability in his truth, you can almost forgive him for taking his anger with the world out on you. Toji is incredible to you, but the same can’t be said for his son. To abandon him right after he lost his mother is unforgivable. Of course he’s fucked up like this. He had nothing and no one. Not a shoulder to cry on or a word to say. Why would he care about his education or school when nothing in the world gave any care for him?

“Tsumiki isn’t your real sister, is she? So how did she—”

“Her mother and my father had a thing after mine died. So she’s not technically any relation of mine but we were all a family, only for a little bit. But after our parents ran off, that’s when Gojo took us in.”

“Wait, what? Gojo, as in—”

“Yeah, Satoru Gojo. That’s why I was surprised he was giving you a ride home that day after class. He’s like my weird other dad. That’s why him and Toji hate each other. Toji’s possessive and I’m his. But Gojo is the one who actually raised me most of my life.”

“Fuck. That’s so… fucked. Seriously heavy drama. Plus, I can’t imagine Gojo as a father. He’s annoying as hell and so immature.”

“He is. But he was good to us.”

You roll away and face the wall, happy with your answers and the conversation you’ve had. Your eyes are feeling heavier, watering with desperation to sleep. Yawns evade your lips and it makes Megumi chuckle. When your mouth is closed your teeth begin to chatter. Maybe shorts and vest wasn’t the best idea for sleepwear given the current weather conditions.

Despite all your best efforts to conceal the volume of your teeth, Megumi hears them. He doesn’t react, though. Not straight away at least. He isn’t sure if he wants to get involved. The worry of saying something pointless swirls through his head. What could he say, anyway? It’s not like he could do anything to make it better.

“You’re cold.” he says, plainly. He curses himself immediately. Why did he state it as a fact as if you aren’t already fully fucking aware of what temperature your body is at? You’re covered head to toe in goosebumps and worried you might actually freeze into a statue.

“Uhm, I… a little.” you confess, weakly. He clears his throat. His mouth is moving faster than his brain can tell him to shut up. It’s a mistake. A colossal mistake he needs to stop himself from making. But he can’t. The words are already pouring out. What the fuck is wrong with him?

“We, uh, do you want to get in? With me. Share body heat until you warm up.”

It shocks you, significantly so. He’s offering to spoon with you. What would Yuuji think? What would anyone think, actually? What do you think?

You think it’s absolutely ridiculous.

You’re constantly at each other’s throats and now he’s offering you comfort and warmth in such an intimate way. Yuuji wouldn’t be happy. Would any man be happy about their girlfriend getting into bed with someone else? No matter how innocent it is. You know he wouldn’t like it.

But you know it’s innocent. You don’t want anything from Megumi. Just…

“Okay.” you whisper. His eyes bulge, he hadn’t been expecting you to agree to it. He opens his duvet up for you. You pick up Gerald and rush into bed with him. Your body moulds against his and you immediately feel better. He’s so warm. You’re cuddling Gerald and his arms are wrapped around your waist as he holds you close, attempting to transfer as much as his body heat as he can onto you.

“Feel better?” he mutters after around ten minutes. You nod, and he holds you even tighter.

“I feel your… your dick is hard, Megumi.” you groan back, he snickers, uncaring.

“I know. Sorry, your ass keeps grinding against it. Just ignore it ‘n go to sleep, princess.” he commands. You giggle back at him. It isn’t his fault. If anything it’s yours. You should have said no to getting into his bed. You shouldn’t be letting him hold you like this. How a lover should.

How Yuuji does.

It’s so wrong and inappropriate. But you’re so toasty and warm, you really don’t care.

“Sweet dreams, Megumi.”

“Night, O’Keeffe.”

—

© 2022 fuwushiguro | © 2024 rinhaler

[petrolstationflowers]

Up to your neck in true crime and feel you can really get into why burglars keep stealing your toilet? Then perhaps the Criminal Psychologist career is for you! This was another request from Catrillion and I had to do a fair bit of digging to make sure this one was accurate.

This job is available for YA - Elder, and you can join via the Police Station. Please note you will need University installed as one of the requirements is the Science skill!

No opportunities or books.

If you want to use this, you must have Nraas Careers installed for it to show up!

There are three custom tones to level your skills:

Build a Rapport (Logic) Write Your Report (Writing) Study Previous Cases (Science)

Coworker tones are the same, and skill tones and uniforms appear from level four. The carpool doesn't appear until level three -- you're a poor postgrad, after all!

Levels under here:

Positive Postgraduate - 10 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 17:00, M-F Description - It’s been a long road to graduation – plenty of sleepless nights watching true crime documentaries and making flash cards for exams, because Watcher forbid you muddle up the Hansford Prison Experiment and the Toto Doll study. You’ve decided you want to jump right in and get an internship, but where to start? Better start cozying up to your professors and making some phone calls! Enthusiasic Intern - 15 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - After laying on the praise and asking very nicely, you’ve managed to secure an internship for the year. The pay is nothing special and the hours are long, but you’re learning a lot, working at the local police station, accompanying jail, and the mental health unit over at Sunset Valley General. You’ll be profiling offenders and writing out risk assessments for those living with Unstable personalities, writing recommendations to make the prison nicer and holding therapy sessions. Better hope they’ve got good coffee! Criminal Psychologist In Training - 30 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F Description - If you thought you escaped the classroom, think again. Sure, you’re finally getting to put your skills to use, but while you’re still helping out at the precinct, you’re also trying to put together where your skills lie. Would you be best working at HMS Sunset Valley, overseeing prisoner rehabilitation, or in the interview room at the police station working on a report for Sunset Valley Plumbbob Court? Best find a quiet spot in the legal library and do some studying – oh, and your manager wants those reports by the end of the day.

Junior Criminal Psychologist - 40 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re not quite working in the big leagues yet, but you’re getting there. You’ve been assigned to the psychiatric unit, triaging those who have been sent your way and helping out with various studies being conducted around the facility. You are, however, getting to sit in on diagnostic intakes and occasionally are being trusted to write up your own. Hopefully if you format the reports nicely enough, you’ll be allowed to steer the ship yourself.

Clinical Researcher - 70 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - Now you’ve found your feet, you’ve been assigned to work on a clinical research program. Sure, it’s only a contract job, but you’re learning about kleptomania and why certain sims are compelled to steal street lights. Lots of note taking, interviewing people, and staring at graphs until the numbers blur, but when you finally see patterns and correlations, it’ll all be worth it!

Treatment Psychologist - 80 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - The data about street lights proved fruitful, and the local government have decided that the results are valuable enough to be put into practice. Sunset Valley General has set up a specific ward for those suffering from kleptomania, and you’ll be setting up therapeutic workshops and treatment programs to try and cut down on their thievery. It’ll take time, patience, and empathy – luckily, you’ve got those in spades.

Psychologist - 100 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 15:00, M-F

Description - Out on your own now, with an office and everything! No longer chained to a hospital or a ugly precinct storage room, you’re free to pursue topics that interest you and studies that make your brain light up. It’s back to assessing and evaluating patients, setting up group studies and making recommendations for them to take a long holiday to Barnacle Bay for the sake of their health. The hours are shorter and pay is better – maybe you’re finally at the top?

Senior Psychologist - 120 simoleans p/h, 10:00 - 17:00, M-F

Description - Business is booming, but there’s something missing; counselling snobby sims through their affluenza or prescribing pills for cowards who can’t stop running away from Bonehilda isn’t as fulfilling as it used to be. You’ve been keeping an eye on local job postings and there’s one that’s caught your eye; something about working with the police force to uncover exactly how their minds work. Perhaps it’s time to spruce up your CV…

Investigator in Training - 150 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, M-F

Description - You’re back to long hours and endless studying, but this one is paid well and comes with lots of benefits; namely, finally getting to study some of SimNation’s most intriguing criminals up close. You’re not being turned loose quite yet, so for the moment you’ll need to shadow your fellow officers and write up dictated reports on just why you think the Tricou family died and who had the motive to arrange Bella Goth’s disappearance. Keep your nose to the grindstone and soon you’ll be free of hours long recordings and into the interrogation rooms yourself.

Criminal Investigator - 200 simoleans p/h, 09:00 - 18:00, T,W,U

Description - That work has paid off and you’re finally where you wanted to be – sitting across the table from some of the most dangerous people in SimNation. When Circe Beaker has been hauled in for illegal experimentation and Roderick Synapse has finally been arrested for kidnap, it’s your job to sit down with them and pick apart their alibis. You’ll need to walk the fine line between professional and friendly, keep a cool head when you’re hearing the horrors, and be able to put together everything you’ve learned in a well written report – best get the coffee ready.

Translations: I've included the English Strings in the file; if anyone is talented enough to translate, I would be incredibly grateful, so please let me know in the comments!

With thanks: To MissyHissy's career building tutorial!

[expectodragons]

The Art of Receiving || 18+ Oneshot

✦ Summary: The stress of studying for your final exams is finally getting to you and you're in desperate need of some relief.

✦ Pairing: Aesop Sharp x Female Reader

✦ Word Count: 2,230

✦ Rating: Explicit, 18+ only - minors do not interact.

✦ Tags / Warnings: Age difference, oral sex (f!receiving), PWP, reader is of age, slight power dynamics, student/professor relationship, vaginal fingering.

It was not often you found yourself in use of the bath in the Prefect’s bathroom. The place was a privilege for but a select few students, yourself included. Being a Quidditch Captain did have its benefits, after all. But rarely did you find the time, or the need, to traverse the many steps up to the hidden room.

Today, however, had given you every single reason to seek out the vast warm waters of the pool-like tub.

Exam season was upon the castle and your nerves, in particular, were due to fry if you spent another moment huddled over a dusty tome in the library with your group of fellow seventh-years. Between a series of challenging classes and the overwhelming air of expectation that was placed upon you by your professors, you were a step short of collapsing.

You had felt your eyes blurring together the words of Malinda Haddock and her many essays on the intricacies of advanced Transfiguration in the fifteenth century. Your head had pounded against the table, much to the concern of Poppy who had been working alongside you.

It felt like your mind could consume no more information – a sponge already seeping out water – you were at your fill of knowledge. And nothing the famed witch could say about the difficulties of transfiguring avian creatures into knitting needles could breach your mental walls.

So, with a weary pace, you had found yourself taking the long journey up to the top of the South Wing’s tower. Flicking the spigot on every faucet until the bath filled with technicolor soap and kaleidoscope-colored bubbles floated into the air. Time had passed without your awareness, so lost in the delicious sensation of warm water rippling over your stressed shoulders.

But, when you at last extracted yourself from the lovely bath and had dried and dressed yourself once again, you finally took notice of the time. Curfew was due to start in but a few minutes and dinner was obviously out of the question.

As you descend the spiral staircase, eager to pick up your pace in an effort to make it to your common room before the clock strikes the hour, you find yourself face-to-face with a particular Potion Master.

“Ah,” Sharp says your name in that slow sardonic tone. He peers up at you from his lower position on the staircase.

“Professor Sharp,” you say in polite admonishment.

If he held you up any longer, you would never make it to your common room in time.

Sharp takes a step, and then another. And even though he’s three steps below your position on the landing, he’s fully eye-level with you.

“You were absent from dinner this evening.”

Your chin juts out, ever so slightly, “I was. And if you’ll excuse me, I wish to make it to my dorm before curfew begins, sir.”

The professor gives an amused hum of consideration. You feel your cheeks become aflame with heat with the look he bestows upon you.

Resting a hand on the banister, he leans into the rails, as though he has nowhere to be in a particular hurry.

“How are your study sessions coming along? I believe the entirety of your year has taken over Scribner’s domain this past week.”

With a huff of annoyance, an impatience sending your feet rocking back and forth, you respond with a simple, “Fine.”

“And your classes? You’re keeping up with the workload I imagine?”

“Yes, sir. If you excuse me, please. I really must get going.”

Before you can so much as brush past him on the other side of the staircase, Sharp moves another step forward and takes a gentle hold of your right arm – your skin still radiates the warmth from your long bath and you know he can feel it between his fingers as his thumb begins to rub a steady rhythm against your hammering pulse point.

The two of you rarely appeared together outside of the safety of his office. Where he could lock the doors and cast a simple Muffliato upon the room. Your meetings were cherished, but increasingly rare as the days leading up to the NEWTs kept you away. But here, in the Faculty Tower – on the top landing of the tower, at that – you feel a familiar rush of desire pooling in your stomach as Aesop takes a final step forward.

Towering over you now, you can feel his warm breath upon your face. Smell the comforting aroma of sandalwood and musk that lingers on his robes. You can even see the beginnings of that familiar small smile of his that sends your heart racing anytime he shares it with you.

“You must be exhausted, my dear.”

The firm press of his thumb on your wrist has your knees buckling, lost in the weight of his heavy stare.

“It… has been rather stressful.”

“Hmm,” he hums in return. His charcoal-colored eyes bore into you as if undressing you here in the corridor before he seemed to make a decision – a sudden flicker of interest across his face your only warning.

“Perhaps you are in need of some relief, as it were.”

You gulp, feeling a flood of want surging through your chest. Your neck flushes with warmth and your ears begin to burn as you carefully turn your wrist in his hold until your fingers wrap around his thumb.

“Perhaps, sir.”

With a thin smile, Aesop leads you the few short steps up to his personal chambers.

This was one place you had never adventured before.

There had been two, and only two, separate occasions in your time with the potions professor, where a secret rendezvous occurred outside of his office. Once, in a hidden nook in the Bell Tower when the majority of the school was out on a Hogsmeade trip. And one very heated exchange in the changing rooms after a quidditch match when the rest of your team was headed off to the common room to celebrate your victory.

But this?

You allow your gaze to wander around the red-toned room. Taking in the small things that took up your professor’s private space. It was hardly as neat as you would have assumed it to be. Stacks of papers, bottles, and potion tools littered every available space. A lone chair sat before a blazing fire. A curious glance towards an ajar doorway nearly has your attention before Aesop’s hand cups your face.

“Now…” he intones. “What to do with you?”

Creeping up on your tiptoes, you lean into his touch.

“I could think of a thing or two.”

He chuckles, curling a finger through the damp locks of your hair.

“I imagine you could. However…” his gaze goes distant, seemingly transfixed by the droplets of water that travel from your hair down to his finger.

Giving an experimental tug, he brings you closer – holding onto but a single strand of your hair. You allow yourself to be pulled, pressing up to meet his curved smile as a kiss, almost too sweet, is placed upon your lips.

“Poor, poor girl,” he murmurs against your lips, tilted back just enough to keep him from making contact with your eager mouth. “Drowning under the pressure of your studies. Has no one shown you proper care these past few weeks?”

His snide remarks only have you leaning up to try and join your lips together once again, but he remains stubbornly persistent in refusing you further. Much to his own delight, apparently, as a wolfish grin materializes on his face.

And then his hands are traveling down your sides. Fingers pressing into the curve of your waist, the small swell of your stomach, the dip of your hips. As you wrap your arms around his neck, his head lowered to almost rest upon your shoulder, you feel the cool air of the room caress your legs as you find your skirt being pushed up.

“If only someone was willing to spare you a thought, hmm?” he crones.

Calloused fingers meet your bare skin, following the gentle curve of your inner thighs as they trail higher and higher.

“What have we here?”

You can sense the pleased smile on his face as his fingers delve into the wet heat between your legs – your eyes closing and your head tilting back in delight at the first brush of his knuckle across your lips.

Warm breath tickles your ear as teeth gently tug at the lobe.

“Eager indeed.”

At last, you lean against him, moaning a gentle, “Aesop.”

He smirks, removing his hands – allowing your skirt to fall back into place – as he pulls you toward the door across the room. Walking backward, he presses the entry open and leads you into a smaller room. Your eyes flash across an array of furniture, covered portraits, stacks of cauldrons, and books, before falling upon the bed.

“My darling girl,” he smooths, turning you slowly in his embrace until you find your knees backed into the crimson sheets of his bed.

A gentle press on your shoulder has you sitting down like a good student, while the man before you drops to a single knee. Your hands grip the sheets like a vice as your skirt is rolled up onto the tops of your thighs and two large palms press your knees apart.

Sharp settles there, in the V of your legs, as a hand lazily drags through the warm slick of your desire. Perhaps another clever quip could be said then, but his dark gaze has zeroed in on his own fingers now, and with a muffled cry parting from your lips Aesop leans forward and licks a warm stripe up your quim.

Pulling your fist to your mouth, you bite down on the flesh of your fingers as he repeats the action.

Heated breath grazes your cunt and the pleasant sting of his stubble scrapes the smooth flesh of your thighs as a deep moan rumbles across your womanhood.

His hands wind under your knees as he spreads you further open, his nose brushes against your mound, as he dips his tongue into your quivering hole – scooping up every bit of sweet juice he finds dribbling out of you.

“Oh god,” you cry out.

Your hand falls from your mouth to latch into the silky strands of his dark tresses. Pulling him closer as he starts to work a steady rhythm with his mouth. Buried between your thighs like he was meant to always be there, Aesop moans another gravelly sound as he begins to suck your clit between his swollen lips.

Like a man starved, he finds his fill in the juncture of your legs. Licking up everything you have to give him, his hold upon your thighs leaves crescent-shaped bruises that send another delicious wave of pained pleasure toward your core.

“Yes, oh Merlin, yes!”

Urged on by your desperate cries, the potions professor barrels forward, sucking your button in earnest as you tug his hair into a tight grip. You can feel it, the sweet desperate coil in your core. Soon it will snap and your release will paint your lover’s face.

Rocking your hips to meet him, you find yourself grinding against his lips, though that only seems to encourage him as he flicks his tongue over your clit and stares up at you with that glazed-over heavy expression in his eyes.

Sweat clings to his brow and his hair curtains his face, but all you can focus on are those gorgeous eyes. So drunk on you, your taste, your cunt. You find your bundle curling tighter and tighter, your hips rocking in a frantic pattern, as Aesop sucks down your sweet pleasure.

A rumbling moan sends you over the edge as he dives into you with a fervor.

His tongue, almost too rough now, laps up your desire as your hold on his hair loosens and your legs seem to become leaden underneath you.

Slowly, he pulls back – his chin a wash of cum and spit – as he huffs out a few raggedy breaths. His lips grace your thigh with wet kisses before he finally drops your legs back to the ground and carefully eases himself back up.

Taking a place beside you on the bed – where you are now lounged back, breathing several shuddering gasps – Aesop drags his hand across your torso, fingers snagging on the buttons of your blouse. He walks up your sternum before his thumb finds the curve of your bottom lip and tugs down upon the silky flesh.

“Feeling relaxed, dear one?” he murmurs, watching you with a transfixed sort of expression that spoke of feelings more than just casual fleeting interest and obvious lust.

Huffing a lofty laugh, you shake your head – lulling your head to the side so you can meet his gaze.

“So relaxed, I fear I might not be able to move again.”

His hand trails to the curve of your jaw, where he cups your heated flesh – a lone finger rubbing over the delicate skin of your cheek.

“That would truly be a shame if that were the case.”

“Wouldn’t it just?” you smile brightly. Feeling the ticklish tingle of your legs and the overwhelming sensation of undiluted happiness coursing through you.

Sharp hums once again in agreement before he leans down to place a lingering kiss upon your honey-sweet lips.

[kookslastbutton]

Love's Remedy ༓ jjk (m) l Ch. III

✑ Summary: Jungkook is a romantic. He comes from a highly intelligent family who wants him to carry out the lineage. Being this way, he goes to college to be a pharmacist but his friends say college isn't just about studying! With a little persuasion, he goes to his first frat party thinking his hat will help him pick up a girl-or woman he means.

Pairing: STEM major!virgin!jungkook x STEM major!hot girl!reader

AU/genre: angst, smut, fluff, s2l, college au, mini-series

Rating: M, 18+

Word Count: 4,378

Warnings: jk is very determined to "win" oc, jk a romantic, oc has philophobia (fear of relationships), protective!koo again, oc is an engineering student, PC Bang, jk is a king at LOL (League of Legends), jk lowkey flirts with new person, oc gets cold feet but please don't blame her 🥹, jk and oc get on level ground after hashing things through, themes of stalker-ish behavior (not oc or jk!), feat Jackson and Jae-beom, if i missed warning lmk!

Now Playing: seven, summertime sadness, she’s kerosene, angels like you+

A/N: For reference a PC Bang is: "a type of LAN gaming center and Internet cafe in South Korea, where patrons can play multiplayer computer games for an hourly fee". Also, I am not a gaming guru but I try for this chapter that means I researched haha Enjoy! 💞

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A week later, Jungkook waits for you at your agreed rendezvous point; for over an hour. You promised to meet him near the campus garden at 7 pm but here it is almost 8 pm and you're a no-show.

He checks his phone for the fourteenth time since arriving–no reply.

Jungkook tries not to jump to conclusions but you broke your word and you ghosted him.

He thinks back to last week when he'd stepped between you and Jun-ho. And when you followed him back to his dorm where he told you he could love and take care of you, as you helped patch his wound. Had he come on too strong? Did you get into more trouble that he didn't know about?

He kicks a few pebbles by his feet, sending them flying in every which way, as the number of endless possibilities rattles his brain.

"Stupid," he cusses himself. "You're just so fucking stupid."

How could he believe that after two short weeks of random run-ins with you that he'd earn your interest? You told him you don't do relationships yet he still shows up, anxiously presenting himself as your knight in shining armor. Any sane person would tell him he was barking up a dead tree.

"Might as well get a head start on next week's homework." Jungkook loses hope, trotting back to the dormitory with the wind howling and mocking behind him.

"What do you mean she ditched you?" The boisterous inquisition belongs to Jackson who's looking thoroughly offended once hearing his new best friend was shown up. He isn't sure how much this woman meant to him, but either way, it makes him livid. Even if you weren't going to go out with him, you should've at least told him like a decent human being.

"I really thought she'd come," Jungkook replies with his heavy eyes. He walks alongside the blonde-haired boy, dirt crunching below his feet. "Guess she had something better to do."

"No." Jackson stops in the middle of the road. "You know who actually has better things to do? It's you. What do you say to hitting up the PC Bang downtown? Play a little League of Legends or Overwatch?"

Jungkook shrugs with less enthusiasm than a snail. "Sure…"

"Hey man," Jackson puts a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. "I'm sorry about you and __. It sucks being stood up. I've had my fair share and you just gotta take it as a blessing that nothing else happened between you both. Nine times out of ten, it didn't have anything to do with you either so don't blame yourself. Take it as a lesson and keep working on yourself until the right person shows up. They'll be the person you can truly give yourself to."

"Hard to believe you've been shown up. You're charismatic, confident, in good shape, have good facial features, and you're getting your MD." Jungkook's aware of his friend's attempt to lift his spirits but he can't fathom anyone not giving Jackson the time of day. Due looks like a pop star in the making.

"Nah, most of what you just said is me bullshitting my way through life. I'm not all that," Jackson rejects, striding forward. "I got rejected by a girl a few days ago myself."

"Had a boyfriend?"

"Nope, just didn't like me. And she doesn't go out with first -years apparently."

"Oh," Jungkook's eyebrows shoot up. "She was an upperclassman?"

"Yup, on her third year."

At this Jungkook's mouth gapes open. "No wonder she said no. What the hell are you doing trying to go out with a third-year?” The accusatory tone spins Jackson's head–he's a sad little puppy with you but a bulldog with him. What a puzzling fellow.

"Same thing you're doing trying to convince someone who doesn't want a relationship to go out with you."

Jungkook dials back his previous assertion. "We're idiots."

"Correction. we're dreamers." Jackson slaps him on the shoulder. "C'mon, let's go burn some shit up at the internet cafe."

By the time he and Jackson get to the cafe nearly all the computers are taken. It's no surprise since PC Bang's are quite a rave amongst university students like themselves. You can play the hottest games for hours while stuffing yourself full with whatever food's served on the cafe menu–all for a small fee of course.

"Let's go here." Jackson manages to grab two free id cards from the counter–guiding them to two empty PCs, side by side to each other. "How long do you want to play for?"

Jungkook sinks himself in the leather gaming chair and powers on the machine in front of him. "I'm good until 6 pm, but then I should head back to my dorm and do homework."

"Cool, same for me. We'll play for three hours then."

"What should we play?" Jungkook tosses the headset over his ears and scrolls through the game options. Jackson does the same.

"Kinda in the mood for LOL." He flips to the game's screen card. "Gonna need to join a team though."

"No problem.," Jungkook clicks the game on his own pc until the loading screen covers his view. "So many people play League of Legends. We'll be able to find one in no time."

Jackson nods and opens LOL himself. "Let's kick some ass."

"Fuck yeah," Jungkook mumbles, inaudible to everyone but himself.

An hour passes and he and Jackson have been hammering their opponents into the digital abyss. The thrill and surge of adrenaline cause him to forget previous heartaches–aka you. Plus, after finding a team of three to jump into; one member who happens to be female, Jungkook's been able to turn his attention to other prospects.

"Soomin, how long have you been playing LOL for?" Jungkook decides to learn more about his female teammate after claiming the final victory over the opposing team.

"Five years," her raspy voice comes through his headset. It sure is a unique voice, he notes.

"Same. We should play on a team more often. In fact, Jackson and I are thinking about building an official LOL team so we could use a third person. You're really good so if you want, we'd love to have you." Beside him, his friend gives him a confused look. 'We are?' he mouths silently which Jungkook ignores.

"Wait really?" She pauses a moment. "I've never been on a permanent team before. I guess that'd be cool."

"I play late at night sometimes too. Meaning if you ever wanna jump on with me shoot me a message or something."

"Alright, I'll jot down your username."

"Already got yours memorized," he says, a tad more cocky than he meant.

"Damn," she cusses. "You work fast. By the way, do you go to university?"

"Yeah, I go to Seoul National University."

"No way, what year are you? I attend there too. I'm a second-year."

"What?!" He nearly hits the ceiling once the information is disclosed. He had no idea Soomin would be this close and that he could meet her in person. call him eager but should he ask her out? No…he's already made that move with you and look where it left him. He'll ask to hang out first. "We should meet Soomin. As long as you don't mind that I'm a first-year that is," Jungkook chuckle lightly and looks over to Jackson who immediately gives him a double thumbs up.

"Well I'm kinda busy this week but how about next week? Also, if it's good with you, can my boyfriend come?"

Fuck. If this is some kinda joke he'd like to catch a break any time now. Not that he was as intrigued with Soomin as he was, or still is, with you but he definitely thought it was going somewhere!

"You're dating?" Jungkook watches Jackson lower his double thumbs up, frowny face on.

"Yeah, we've been together for a year. Met as classmates." When she giggles Jungkook has the unexpected urge to roll his eyes. Of course, you did, he mutters, just a perfectly peachy coincidence for you two.

"Well that's nice," he says bitterly.

"Oh, I'm sorry Jungkook. He's actually calling me now so I have to go but I'll talk to you soon. And message me when you want to meet. I'll tell my boyfriend about you!"

Great. Jungkook bids her goodbye and she signs off.

"Sorry about Soomin. She seemed cute." Jackson slides his headset off his ears to rest them around his neck. "But you know what? You're still a force to be reckoned with inside the virtual world. I honestly don't know how you do it."

Jungkook grins shyly and slips his headset on the desk. "I've been playing for a long time. Must be something to do with that." He throws a hand over his abdomen when his stomach rumbles at the same time. "We should order food." He browses the cafe's extensive menu on his pc. Nothing but rows and rows of tasty options flash back at him, urging him to spend fortunes.

Still, he's got to cap it at some point with only about 2,000,000 Korean won (about 1,500 USD) in his bank account. The Jeon family is wealthy but Jungkook is not. His parents are especially careful to inform him that generational wealth is not going to be given to him freely. Instead, he is to earn his own money, starting at the car wash which he worked at over the summer.

"I'm getting an order of Tteokbokki and a soju. What about you?" Jackson punches in his order, sparing a glance at Jungkook who's tapping on his keyboard with one hand while the other rests under his chin.

"The Jjajangmyeon looks good. I'll get that with a soju too." After Jungkook enters in his own order he strolls his chair out from under the gaming table. "Do you see a bathroom around here?"

"Yeah, it's all the way to that far right corner." Jackson points in that direction with his thumb.

"Okay, I'll be right back."

Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom.

Jungkook repeats the simple word to himself. He scans the corner Jackson gestured towards earlier but sees nothing except a giant blank wall. Must have meant the opposite direction. He turns himself around to scout the other side of the floor.

"Excuse me sir-" a voice chimes close behind him.

"Oh sorry." He steps aside to let the young lady by and as soon as he does his whole body jerks forward in shock. "__!"

You turn around with the tray of food in your hand in what looks like a work uniform. "Yes, what can I do–Kookie?" You grip the plastic tray firmer to keep it from shaking uncontrollably, though the clamminess of your palms makes it a challenging task. Seeing Jungkook at the place you work was bound to happen being that the PC Bang is close to the university. You just weren't prepared for it to be tonight during one of your last shifts of the season.

"I didn't know you worked here."

"Yeah, only part-time." After bumping into Jungkook moments ago, you found it inevitable to avoid him further. You agreed to meet him outside once your break started. "I'm planning on leaving before the semester gets crazy. I have about a week left probably."

It dawns on Jungkook that he doesn't know what you study so with shifty eyes and clenched fists, he asks. "What are you going for?"

"Engineering." You can tell he wasn't expecting that for an answer; most don't be a woman in the field and all. "Jungkook, let's not do this. I'm sorry about what happened the other night." A sick queasy feeling settles in your gut–you're well aware you did Jungkook wrong. You're not proud of it in the slightest and him standing in front of you right now only reminds you of your guilt.

"I waited for you __. You said you come even if it was a rejection." A twinge of hurt laces behind his words and he keeps a controlled stance. He doesn't get in your face, demanding for an answer, nor does he break down and cry. He's more inquisitive than anything else. "Where were you? Why didn't you come?"

"I–" You intertwine your fingers, a nervous habit you picked up in childhood. "I panicked Kookie. I'm so sorry."

Jungkook stiffens when he hears the endearing name drop from your soft lips again. It was nice at first but now it feels like a sharp pain twisting in his side, like a thorn only for his misery. "Can you not call me that, please? It's–It's making me uncomfortable."

"Oh god," you lunge forward out of instinct but freeze when he steps back. "Jungkook I really am sorry. I was planning to see you. I had my shoes on and everything. Like I said I panicked, I'm not suited for relationships. And I'm not suited for you."

The last part stings the most.

"But–"

“There’s no buts Jungkook." You place your hand on the door of the building. " I have to get back to work."

"Wait!"Jungkook moves to face in front of you from an angle. "You say you're not suited for relationships but why did you get ready to see me? Why didn't you just say no to me? And last week when you told me you needed more time to think…was it a lie?"

"Because I like you okay? You're cute, protective, sweet, but you like me too much." you release the handle. "You don't know anything about me yet you've already got into a fistfight with an obscene jerk for me and claim you'll wait for me even when you just met me. If you love me this much now how much more will you love me later?"

" I'll love you for eternity."

"See this is it, Jeon. You saying stuff like this before anything real has happened between us–it's too much. How can you be this devoted to basically a stranger? You'll love me for eternity but have you considered that maybe I won't?"

"What are you saying?"

"What makes you think I'll love you as much as you do me?"

" I don't think like that __. I don't want a relationship so I can see what I can get. that's not how my mind works. I understand that I've been very forward with you. I should have been more conscientious about how that would make you feel but when I say that I love–"

"Please, don't drop the 'L' word. If you're saying love then you don't love me; only the idea of me."

Jungkook pauses, wordless

"Never thought of it that way huh? Guess not. Let me ask you something…do you know what I do? With men?"

He swallows and shakes his head no

"I sleep with them. A new guy a week if not twice a week. People call me a whore, and I'm spreading my legs for everyone and anyone willing. Do you want to get involved with someone like that?" You wipe away an escaped tear.

"I don't care about that at all __."

"Well, you should! This is who I am Jungkook. I can't let you be responsible for me. So unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

"__!" Your manager shoves the front door open, causing you and Jungkook to jolt in surprise. " Where have you been? We have about twenty orders that need to be served."

"Sorry Manager Choi. I'll get right on it." You spare Jungkook one last glance before disappearing back inside the PC Bang. "I'm sorry," you say with a lowered head.

That night Jungkook lays on his bed, thumb hovering over your name in his contacts list. His logical side whispers for him to delete it. His heart says to call, text, or do something to–no. He remembers your pained facial expression; on the verge of tears as you explained to him that he'd been too quick in making his mind up about you. But then he replays your final words.

"…unless you want a one-night stand or a friends-with-benefits relationship, I suggest you forget about me. I can't be your girlfriend."

Well, he doesn't want the first two but if it meant he could be in your life longer–stop. His logical side intrudes. "You don't want to go down that path," he matters to himself. "It's better if you just delete the number." Jungkook moves to tap the trash can icon on your phone contact, a pang in his chest. Just as he's mustered up enough strength his phone buzzes off, screen lighting the entirety of the darkened dorm room. His roommate groans at the sound and rolls over in their bed.

"Jungkook," said roommate rubs his face. "I have an 8:15 tomorrow morning. Please speak take it in the hallway."

Jungkook quietly jumps out of bed not solely because of courtesy to his roommate but also because it's from you.

"Jungkook… can you um…"

"__?" He eases the door shut behind him and paces up and down the hallway. "Are you there?"

"Can you meet me at the bus stop near the campus library/ I'm sorry to be asking you it's just that…Jun-ho's–"

"What is it? Are you okay? What about Jun-ho?"

" I'm taking the bus back from work and he's on the same one he keeps staring at me and I'm scared of following me back to my dorm. Please Kookie-Jungkook I mean. I don't have any right to ask you, I know. He won't try anything with the bus driver here but once I get off I'll be alone. I have some pepper spray in my bag–"

"Yes, yes I'll be right there. How far are you out?" This isn't about pursuing you, impressing you, or anything like that anymore; it's about your safety. Jungkook leaps into his room, grabs his wallet, and shoves the sneakers on his feet. "__? Did you hear me?"

" I'm five minutes from the stop. Oh, he's, he's still staring at me."

"Don't look at him __. I'm walking down right now. Stay on the phone with me. I'll be waiting for you when you get there okay?"

"Thank you Kook. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. If Jun-ho's tracking you down like a wolf, it'll be his funeral." The icy tone in Jungkook's typically warm, milky tone sends a shiver up your spine.

The bus you're on pulls up in exactly five minutes, as you estimated. Jungkook frantically searches for you through the window glass, growling when he sees Jun-ho standing up a few rows behind you. He makes sure to be as close to the bus's exit doors as possible so he can grab your hand as soon as you step out.

"Hey!" He greets you loudly. "How was your shift?"

"Great! We were running around like crazy but thankfully, I didn't have to work through the night." You cling his hand tighter, slinging your other arm around his.

"That's a blessing." Jungkook and you walk faster, putting more space between you and Jun-ho. "You must be tired."

"Oh yeah, I can't wait to slee–ah!" You trip over a ledge on the sidewalk. Jungkook grips you before you completely fall flat on your behind.

"New feet?" He can't help but joke and you slap his arm. Jungkook helps straighten you back up, your hands remain interlocked. When it comes to a split in the road, you and Jungkook filter to the right side towards the female dorms. You hope to god Jun-ho takes the left.

"He's such a fucker." Jungkook curses, peering over his shoulder just enough to see Jun-ho faltering at the intersection. He burns holes at both of you so much that it makes Jungkook feel like kneeing him in the gut but he doesn't want to provoke the bastard–putting you in unpredictable danger. "I'll get you to your dorm. Which one is yours?"

"Up ahead." You gesture at the brick building with the number 318.

"We can let go of our hands now." You're the first to speak after arriving outside your dorm.

Jun-ho thankfully did not follow you any more than back at the split in the path between male and female dorms. The fact that he still attends school here makes your skin crawl. You don't exactly like calling people a mistake but Jun-ho is by far an exception. You messed around with the guy one time while you both were a bit tipsy and he keeps hounding you. If you need to, you will make him stay away from you permanently.

"Promise me you'll get a restraining order on him if this happens again or gets worse." Jungkook ignores your suggestion to release your hands. "That idiot has no right to be around you."

"I will. Thank you for coming out. I was nervous to call you being what happened earlier. I truly, from the bottom of my heart, am sorry. And I know having to go back to work left things hanging so if there's anything else you wanted to talk about or tell me, please feel free."

"Anything for you–" slips out of his mouth before he can stop it. He slaps a hand over his mouth instantly, you chuckle softly.

"It's okay Jungkook," you reassure. "I can tell you wear your heart on your sleeve. You're naturally very accommodating and flattering."

"And you're beautiful. Damnit, I did it again. I'm sorry __, but whenever I look at you I feel butterflies and I say a lot of fluffy stuff. I'm not trying to flirt or impress you by using what can be in the right context, shallow methods. But yeah, I was thinking about what happened at the cafe earlier tonight and I think get it–I've been too quick to the draw. I'm honestly not sure why I'm so attracted to you other than the fact that you're breathtakingly gorgeous in literally every way, both physical and non-physical. It makes me want to know you more. And the fact that assholes like Jun-ho won't leave you alone makes me want to be your personal bodyguard or something. I don't lift as much as him but fuck, I can keep him in his place. I'm starting to sound crazy, aren't I? It's like you said, we're strangers after all…right?"

Jungkook waits for you to respond. The cool autumn air is crisp against your cheeks, not cold enough to see your own breath, but enough to have you secretly grateful for the warmth that comes from his hand. That's right, you've been clinging onto his hand for dear life for the past fifteen or more minutes. You should probably let go now if weren't for the fact that he's also clinging onto yours just as hard.

"You really want to know me Kookie?" You brush a few strands of his hair that have blown in front of his eyes. He's incredibly handsome now…how did you not see it before? Sure he's cute with his bunny-like smile, mole on his button nose, and his adorable voice that makes you oh so soft and comfortable inside. But he's also handsome with his piercing oak tree-colored eyes, perfectly sharp jaw, and eager yet tenacious energy that always seems to show up for you.

Jungkook takes your other hand in his, swinging them between you both. "Of course," his earnest voice chippers. "It’s next to impossible for me not to want to know you. I'm sure I'll eventually move on if that's what you really want, but if there's another alternative that can avoid that I'd like to take it. You seem to be in deep thought about something…" he switches up his response when he notices you don't look as alert as you usually do. “__.”

"I'm here," you say, the tiniest bit dazed. "I was just thinking about something."

"Yeah I know, but about what?"

You swallow before replying. “…You.”

Jungkook smiles sheepishly. You're unsure if he's pleased or nervous. "Is it–is it something good or should we leave it here?"

"Are you free tomorrow?" You bite the inside of your cheek, begging yourself not to take it back. "It's Sunday so I get if you have some last-minute studying to do. Just thought maybe we could do something….together." Jungkook goes to reply, cheeks more than raised but you continue speaking before he sounds a word. "It's not a date per se. I'm being crazy annoying but I'd like to be friends first with something extra."

"You said no to friends before though. This isn't an offer to be friends with benefits is it?"

"That was when I wasn't sure what I wanted with you if anything. I didn't want to take advantage of you or anything. I want to start as friends so we can see if we can somehow be more. I'm interested in you Jungkook so no, not friends with benefits but rather, friends with the potential to be more."

"Okay," Jungkook squeezes your hands. "I can do that. What do you want to do? What time do you want to meet? What do you want me to wear?"

"First of all, if we're going to do this I'm going to need you to treat me like your bro. Wear what you want, we can meet afternoon and we'll figure it what to do along the way." You think your suggestion is fair yet it's crystal clear that it's not ideal for Jungkook, given the pout on his face.

"I don't want you to be my bro though," he whines.

"We start as bros or we're not hanging out." You're firm because you want this to work but you know yourself, and you need to take this slow.

"No wait, okay. Bro it is. You'll be the prettiest bro of mine."

"Jungkook," you snort, undignified. "That sounds weird."

He shrugs, "I'm weird when I'm with my friends. Especially when they're as pretty as you, it makes me all dumb because I can't seem to think straight anymore."

"Alright Romeo," you say, face flushing. "Save the rest for tomorrow."

<< ch. II ༓ ch. IV >> | series masterlist

A/N: This was originally going to be three chapters but it will be extended 😶 Lmk what you think and if you wanna to be tagged fill out tag form or ask 💞

Masterlist

Taglist:

@hoseokteardrop @skzthinker @igchochi @jksjx

no reposting, copying, or translating my work– © kookslastbutton

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Climb

Summary: You're a scientist, an engineer to be exact. Called to a meeting you had no real right to be at, Optimus Prime takes an exclusive interest in you, but you can't help but ask yourself at every turn, Why?

Rating: 18+ 🌹🩸🍆

Story Masterlist

Chapter 1

I’d never seen an Autobot up close before, never with my own eyes. Sure, I’d seen parts of dead ones, watched plenty of video footage, but I’d never actually stood in the same room as one before, let alone, Optimus Prime himself.

     He was so big, so powerful, such a force to be reckoned with, no wonder he was the leader of the Autobots, he was incredibly commanding on sight alone.

     I had been called upon along with a variety of other scientists to try to solve a problem, one that would inevitably be solved by some physicist, they always got the glory. I studied Space Engineering, these days it gave a much more secure career path, but it didn’t come with a lot of recognition.

     A meeting between Optimus Prime and the President’s spokesman was reaching boiling point, I couldn’t remember the man’s name, but judging from his attitude towards anything alien, he might not have lasted very long.

     ‘Your planet will be destroyed-‘ Optimus implored.

     ‘And who’s fault would that be?’ The man snapped back. ‘If you shared some of your technology, we stand a chance against this thing.’

     ‘Your capacity for war amongst yourselves does not fill me with confidence that you would not abuse any technology we give you.’

     He had a point there.

     ‘That’s not your choice to make.’ The man took a breath and I turned to my friend Theo.

     ‘Of course it’s his choice to make,’ I said. ‘It’s his technology to share.’

     We chuckled quietly, suddenly noticing the quiet that had blanketed the entire hanger. I looked up to see both the president’s man and Optimus Prime staring down at me, one with annoyance, the other with a curiosity in his eyes.

     ‘And anyway,’ the man continued, I should’ve remembered the echo in the building and not said anything at all. ‘If a ship is about to plunge itself into our planet, I think we’d all appreciate a few weapons to defend ourselves with.’

     Optimus hadn’t stopped looking at me the entire time the man spoke, not until he went to reply. The argument went on for ages and I decided to try and get back to work while it did, but all I could see in my minds eye was Optimus Prime’s blue eyes staring down at me. I felt so small.

     Eventually, the scientists were called upon to speak, I wasn’t the spokesperson for my department so was grateful that I wouldn’t have to put myself in the spotlight again, but I didn’t necessarily agree with everything we were presenting.

     ‘You disagree.’ Optimus’s low voice echoed throughout the hanger.

     All the speakers had been sent up to the balcony so that they were eye level with the Autobot, I stayed down below with Theo who was also grateful that he didn’t have to speak. Both of us believed that organics would remain undetectable by the alien ship heading towards Earth, so it stood to reason that a human could go in and sabotage the ship to prevent it from harvesting our core.

     Optimus’s attention was never on the spokesperson for our department, in fact the second she stepped forward to speak, he looked down at us. I turned away unable to maintain eye contact any longer and never realised that he kept his gaze on me especially.

     When I didn’t answer his question, Optimus descended onto one knee, and I felt my heart racing.

     ‘What is your name?’ He asked, his deep voice somehow quieter, as if he knew how intimidating he was.

     Theo nudged me to stand, and I did, feeling my mouth go dry. I awkwardly shoved my glasses up my nose and stuttered. ‘Uh, I, Harding. Dr Jane Harding.’ I finally managed to get out.

     ‘Dr Jane Harding.’ Optimus repeated and it was strange to hear him say it. ‘I would like to hear your opinion on the matter.’

     ‘Um, excuse me.’ The president’s man interrupted. ‘She is not part of this presentation; her opinion is being put to you by her spokesperson.’

     Optimus quickly turned to the man and snapped. ‘You have had your chance to speak, you will allow others their time as well.’ He turned his attention back to me. ‘It is clear that you do not agree that my Autobots could penetrate the ship’s exterior and destroy its controls, so what do you think is best, Dr Jane Harding?’

     I cleared my throat, my eyes flickering towards the angry looking man still glaring down at me.

     ‘I…’ I cleared my throat again, this wasn’t the time for cowardice, the fate of the world was at stake and if my opinion was what saved us, then I shouldn’t have been intimidated by one alien. ‘The ship looks to be of a similar origin to Cybertron,’ I started, trying hard to be brave. ‘It stands to reason that it will detect you the second you make your way towards it, but there’s a good chance it will not detect organics in quite the same way. We could send a man inside to sabotage the controls.’

     ‘A human?’ Optimus thought for a moment, that was when Lennox stepped forward.

     ‘Are you saying we could send a team inside that ship, dismantle its control system and get out without being detected?’ He asked, curiously more than thinking the idea was ridiculous.

     I pushed my glasses up my nose again, the sweat causing them to slide. ‘Well, it wouldn’t be quite as simple as that.’ Lennox almost laughed, knowing it was too good to be true. ‘Like I said, the Autobots would be detected long before they even reached the ship’s hull, and we don’t currently have anything powerful enough to blast a hole in the side of it.’ I swallowed, nervously. ‘Anything electronic would be detected, someone’s going to have to climb up and find a way inside.’

     Lennox stepped forward. ‘Climb? You know that’s at least a thirty thousand foot ascent maybe more?’

     I swallowed again. ‘Yes. But there are ways it can be done.’

     ‘We don’t have anyone capable of that.’

     ‘Then you’ll have to train someone.’ I took a breath, feeling the pressure starting to alleviate. ‘Look, we have six months before that ship is touching down on Earth, we have to use that time wisely. So you can build all the weapons you want, you can beg the Autobots for whatever technology you think will help, but that ship isn’t here because of them, it’s here because our planet is a hot bed for radiation and that’s what it feeds on. If the Autobots weren’t here, you wouldn’t think my plan was so ridiculous, we wouldn’t have many other options. At least this way, it limits the number of lives lost.’

     The room was quiet, I wasn’t sure why, but both Lennox and Optimus were considering my plan.

     ‘Do you believe one human could do this?’ Optimus finally asked me.

     I looked up at his blue eyes, noting the complexity of his face and no longer feeling as intimidated as I once did. ‘Yes, I do. There’s no limit to what a human being can endure. It’s mind over matter.’

     Something in the Autobot’s expression changed, but I couldn’t tell what it was. Lennox and the president’s man, who I now knew as Smith, began arguing about the riskiness of the plan as well as the impossibility, but Lennox was able to convince him to keep it in reserve, a plan B. I caught the look Lennox gave me which indicated he had no intention of keeping it in reserve, as far as he was concerned, it was Plan A.

     The meeting concluded and Lennox approached me as I gathered my folders up, taking me to one side.

     ‘You really think we can send a team into that ship undetected?’ He asked, still feeling shaky about the idea.

     ‘I do, but the ship has advanced capabilities to adapt to its surroundings, it would almost certainly adapt to detect organic life if there was enough of it penetrating its shields. So, a team? No. But one person would stand a much greater chance.’

     Lennox let a tense breath go. ‘You realise what you're asking?’

     ‘I do.’ I felt the guilt in my chest. ‘But if it saves the world, isn’t it worth it?’

     Lennox just chuckled, nodding. ‘If you were a soldier, I’d nominate you to make the climb. You got some guts.’

     ‘Thanks… I think.’ I frowned, pushing my glasses up again.

     ‘You should talk to Optimus before you leave, I’m sure he’d appreciate it.’

     ‘Oh, I couldn’t, I doubt he’d want anything to do with me.’ I shook my head, feeling the nervousness wash over me once again.

     ‘Dr Harding, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Optimus Prime, it’s that not every human being captures his attention like that.’ Lennox smiled. ‘I don’t know what it is about you, but if he can see something in you worth listening to, then I’m behind him all the way. If you need anything, call and I’ll see it done.’

     Lennox nodded once and left me standing in the corner of the hanger, grasping my notes to my chest. I took a deep breath and tried to psyche myself up to say thank you to the great Autobot leader. What I, once again, didn’t notice, was that he was watching me from the same spot he’d stood for the entire meeting, it was like he knew where I was at any given moment.

     I took another breath and walked over to him.

    ‘Um,’ good start. ‘I… wait.’

     I suddenly realised that I should’ve been up in the balcony to make it easier for him to see me. I tried to climb the stairs quickly, but there was a lot of them and by the time I got to the top where people were still working away on computers, I probably could’ve said thank you and left.

     ‘Hi.’ I panted, not exactly sure of why that was my opening line.

     ‘Hello.’ Optimus chuckled a little.

     I took another deep breath and pushed my glasses up. ‘I… I just wanted to say thank you for giving me the chance to speak. I know you’ve got a lot to deal with, so I appreciated the opportunity. And good luck for the mission.’ I nodded, having said what I wanted to say and went to leave.

     ‘I look forward to working along side you, Dr Jane Harding.’ He said as I was about to make my way back down the stairs. I looked at his hugely complex face and frowned. ‘I have requested that you be the one to lead the search for the human who could make such a climb. I will accept no other liaison.’

     My heart was pounding so hard I thought I might have had a panic attack. ‘Me? But, I… I’m just an engineer, I’m not what you need.’

     ‘On the contrary, I have witnessed your actions in this room today, your compassion towards my kind, your bravery to stand up for what you believe. and your unwavering faith in your race. I have deemed you the only one capable of carrying out this task. I would be honoured to work along side you, Dr Jane Harding.’

     I wasn’t sure if time, my heart or the world had stopped, but something was slowing down before going into overdrive.

     ‘You want me?’ I asked, suddenly hating that that was the first thing that came to mind.

     ‘I do.’ Optimus nodded.

     I didn’t know what else to say, all I could do was nod and move out of the way of a soldier trying to get passed me on the balcony.

     I descended the steps and felt those blue eyes on me the entire way out of the hanger. I turned back to see Optimus still watching me, he raised a hand in farewell and once again the air of intimidation was lifted. I smiled and headed toward the minibus taking the scientists back to our accommodation.

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[dariaslookalike]

Building Houses and Burning Bridges Pt 8: Bad Lungs and Choking

Summary:

It seems, oddly enough, that Gregory House lives to annoy you. He takes 'arseholish boss' to the next level. Wake up in the morning, ready to have breakfast, and drive to the hospital where you both work? Nope, you're getting a text that says you're late to his impromptu 4:30 AM meeting where he's had the 'breakthrough of the century' on the team's latest case. Get your hair cut and walk into work, for once feeling confident? Nope, he's saying that he would have done a better job blinded, hands tied and going through Vicodin withdrawals. Finally, 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺, prove him wrong and attempt to wipe the cockiness off his face? Nope, you're simply slow because you didn't get to your diagnosis quicker and weak-willed because you didn't fight him for it in the beginning. Everything House does infuriates you, and it seems everything you do infuriates him. No wonder you end up pinned to the wall of your apartment and groping him like your life depends on. And knowing House, it very may well.

Warnings: Adult language, mature themes, eventual smut, female protagonist, no reference of y/n

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Current Status: Ongoing

Masterlist: Building Houses and Burning Bridges

Next Chapter: Pt 9

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

You wake up with a harsh gasp, but the pain is barely present and your fever is gone. The sleep in your eyes makes your vision blurry and you rub at it lazily. You’re still half asleep and if you relax yourself just a bit more, you’ll slip back into your dreams.

Usually, your dreams were an awkward combination of things: going to your grandparents house in your swimmers or being back at highschool and forgetting algebraic factorisation. Of course, in the past few months many had been about House. He had been looming over you in your waking hours, so it made sense he did it while you slept too. But really, what kind of fucking dream did you just wake from? House, in your house?

You walk with bleary eyes to your bathroom. You brush your teeth for the first time in days, and scrub your tongue, and repeat the process until all you can taste is toothpaste. You stare at the centre of your tiles. It all seemed so vivid in your fever. Standing there with House. Undressing. Your eyes trail over to your bathtub and you send a prayer out, thanking whatever higher being, that biting House was a dream. You make your way back to bed, but decide you don’t want to fall back into that dream. House was still a prick. No way in hell would you have gone ten feet near him after the charity ball, even with a fever, and you want to scold your brain for thinking something so ludacris. Instead, you stretch out in the warmth of your bed, sunning yourself in the light drifting through your windows. You roll over, snuggling your face back into your pillow but you stop with a jolt.

Fresh sheets.

Your heart makes itself known by pounding against your ribcage, and you sit up as silently as you can. You study your room with new eyes. Your top draw is open. Your desk chair is pulled back. Even the final box that you have been promising yourself to unpack is tipped over, its contents spilling out against the floor. Suddenly your throat feels tight and you drag your hands down your cheek. Then you look down at your pyjamas, and flashes of your ‘dream’ rush back to you. Vomiting. Naked. Watched.

Fuck.

You tip your legs over the side of your bed and pad silently out of your room. You’re still weak, and you stop every few steps to lean against a wall with a heaving breath. Like a fugitive being tailed, you peek your head around each corner and slowly edge out.

It’s only when your smoke alarm goes off do your muscles grant you enough power to race towards your kitchen. You expect a great, grand fire, but you stop suddenly and stare at what you’re met with. House is standing atop one of your ikea chairs in the middle of your kitchen, with a screw driver jammed to your smoke alarm.

“What are you doing?” Any thought of the previous night is pushed aside for now, as the high pitched ringing continues to sound out.

He huffs and says something that is lost in the sound, but at your quizzical look he repeats himself. “I wanted to test if it worked.”

“Why?! And can you shut it up?”

Your hands fling to your ears but House simply lowers the screwdriver and the screeching stops. House stares up at it as if he wants to jam the screwdriver back to one of the crevices, so you stride forward and yank out of his hand. He wobbles atop the chair and scoffs. “That’s the thank you I get for saving your life?”

He gingerly lowers himself, but you don’t reach to help him down. You take a step back and lean against one of your kitchen counters. “I would hardly call last night saving my life. I was already over the worst of my sickne-”

House raises a hand to silence you. “I wasn’t talking about last night yet, vomit-comet.” Your eyes bulge, but what he says next has your jaw dropping. “Your smoke detector is clearly faulty, because it didn’t detect the smoke from the fire. Who knows when you would have been caught in an inferno?”

“What fire?”

He gestures over his shoulder to your toaster, which you suddenly realise has fading smoke the top. “You have a lot of CDs for me to pick through. Very distracting when I’m trying to make toast.” You deflate against your counter and pinch the bridge of your nose. When you look back up, you see House staring intently at you. Studying you.

You’re the first to break in your weird staring competition, and your eyes trail off to the side where you see House’s cane propped up against a cupboard. You exhale. “Thank you, I guess for last night. And for destroying my broken smoke alarm. And my toaster.”

House doesn’t take the hint, and across the small space of your kitchen he pushes himself up to sit on the top of a counter. Your eyes catch on the flex of his forearms and you curse yourself when he smirks at you. “All in a day’s work for the world’s greatest doctor.”

You stand in awkward silence for a moment before you jut your head at him. The movement makes you dizzy, but you steady yourself against the counter. House’s brows pinch together before he exclaims, “Oh! That wasn’t you thanking me, that was you trying to get to me to leave. I’m like a mould, sweetheart. I’ll grow on you.” He tilts his head. “Or in you, I suppose.”

“What? What are you talking abou…” Your words slur off into a trail and you raise your hands in front of your face. They’re shaking. “I thought- Was better. Whass happing?” Your tongue is heavy in your mouth.

House clicks his tongue and slaps his hands against his thighs. “Well that’s the exciting part! I thought you were getting better too!”

Your head starts to loll forward and you lose sight of him as he keeps speaking. “But that’s because I thought you had something boring. A flu. A cold. Maaaaaaaybe pneumonia. But then I saw your bathroom. Let me guess, the mould was there when you moved in? That’s what made this shithole so cheap right?”

You’re using all your willpower to stay standing but then your knees buckle and you lower yourself to the ground as gently as you can. Still, you thud to the floor. House tuts from somewhere above you, and you hear him push off the counter. “It was everywhere though. Even on the back of some of your canvases. I thought I paid you well enough that you could at least afford a sponge and some bleach. Clearly not.”

From the floor, you manage to raise your head. You can only look at his ratty sneakers as he limps closer. “Walking home in the snow should have killed you, with what’s being festering in you by now. But I guess I-” He clears his throat, “you got lucky.”

Your vision blurs and you hear House groan, as he reaches down and drags your limp body upwards. “You can’t stay here anymore though. You’ll be a walking fungi by noon.”

—----------------

You expect to wake in the hospital. Most people do when they collapse.

Instead you wake in a dark room under heavy blankets. You lay there for a moment, letting your eyes adjust to the lack of light. You turn your head to your right, taking in the empty armchair and small cabinet beside you. There’s a phone handset, a clock and a lamp that is no help in the dark. It’s a weird jolt of terror that you get when your eyes trail down to the end of the bed, and only after seconds of staring into the darkness do they make out the form of House, perched on the end. You scramble up as fast as you can, tucking your knees close to you.

House rolls his eyes. “This isn’t my sex dungeon.”

“Oh,” you scowl, “Do you prefer the term basement? Or oubliette? Where am I?”

House squints his eyes and you can tell he’s debating whether or not to tell you. You kick out deftly under the covers and land a softened blow against his arm. He swats at your foot and you retreat. House clicks his tongue. “Mine.”

You laugh. “No, no, no. Not yours. Where are we actually? Where did you kidnap me to?”

House pins you with a glare. “It’s not kidnapping if its done for a perfectly medical reason and you can’t really call yourself a kid anymore, can you?”

“That’s not what that mea-”

He cuts you off and effectively silences your words with his own. “Mine. We are at my apartment.”

At his words, your eyes trail away, instead surveying the room with a new hunger. The bookcase is filled to the brim with novels and texts, and there’s a cluttered desk opposite you. You’re trying to digest that you’re probably in House’s room. House’s bed.

You run your hands down your face and groan. “What the fuck is happening, House?”

He huffs and looks away from you, head tilted back to stare at his ceiling. “You literally have mould growing in your lungs. But, a handy dandy course of pills and you’ll be fine. I already gave you the first two doses while you were out. You’ll be good for a few hours and have to keep taking some if, you know, you don’t want to breathe like a deformed pug.”

“No, no, I don’t give a shit about any of that. Sure, hypersensitivity pneumonitis or aspergillosis, whatever. But what the fuck is happening right now?” You lower your hands and glare at him. “Why did you bring me here? I pass out and your first reaction is to drag me to your apartment?”

And really, how? You get an image of him dragging your down the stairs, thumping the whole way, and shoving you into the boot of his trunk. House doesn’t sound quite as cocky or self-assured as he usually does when he speaks. “Your place is basically a cesspool of fungi. You won't be able to get better there.”

“So why am I not at the hospital?”

There’s a heavy beat of weighted silence, and he still doesn’t look at you. “Because I wouldn’t be able to take care of you there.”

You deflate almost against his pillows, like a tire with a slow leak. “Oh.”

“Yep.” He says, popping the p.

“House. I can’t actually stay here, with you, after…everything.” ‘Everything’. What an odd way to sum up the feelings in your chest, the screaming matches between you two, and all that lay in between.

He sucks in air and it hisses through his teeth. “You kinda have to. According to the state of New Jersey, reported cases of severe aspergillus mould have to go through months long strenuous, and I mean rip-up-the-carpets-just-to-rip-up-the-floorboards-just-to-clean-the-foundation kind of strenuous process for a place to be legally habitable.”

You clench your jaw. “But that’s only reported cases, right?”

House nods inconspicuously. “Right.”

“Mm,” You nod along, “And no one reported anything, right House?” Silence. “Right, House?”

His blue eyes flick to yours. “I mean…. I think I might have accidentally sent a text to someone. Or a phone call to an office. Or a 32-page email with photographic evidence to the New Jersey state health department.”

You groan, and throw yourself at him. You grab onto his shoulders and with surprising strength, or perhaps a lack of resistance, push him down against his own bed. You swing yourself over him, straddling him deftly, and you squeeze your hands lightly against his throat. “I can not fucking believe you!”

House’s hands reach up and steady themselves against your hips. “Glad to hear it, Newbie. I was always told I was mythical.”

You apply pressure against his throat, and lean down, sneering. “You’re not mythical, you’re goddamn infuriating.”

You expect him to spit something back at you or to swat your hands away easily, but instead he lets out a near-inaudible groan. He shifts against you, and his hands tighten on your hips and you suddenly realise the very compromising and very close position the two of you were in. He rocks against you now, with more force, and you feel him drag against you between your legs. You suck in a harsh breath, and let your hips roll as he grinds you down against him.

He says your name quietly, a whisper echoing between the two of you. You freeze, and stare at him, his own pupils blown wide and looking back at you. He’s breathing deeply underneath you, and you’re nearly certain that you’ll both stay like this forever, too scared to stop and too scared to continue. But then House knocks you onto your back and now it's you who falls back against the mattress, with the wind knocked out of you. You gasp, and try to push against him, clawing like a feral cat to sit up, but he shifts his weight against his good leg and manages to manoeuvre himself quickly into the position you were in.

He laughs at how easily you’re defeated, and quickly places his hands against your neck. While both your hands were barely wrapped around his throat, House’s palm presses against your windpipe and his fingers curl around your neck with ease.

He applies the same, soft and mocking pressure you did. You both know you could get out of it if you tried, and that he would let you; a deep flush settles on your cheeks when you make no move to do so. He leans closer, his breath fanning against your ear. “You like that, Newbie? Which one’s better, choking me or getting choked by me?”

When you don’t answer, House tilts his head, leaning to nip against the corner of your mouth. He speaks your last name into your skin. “I asked you a question.”

You laugh, soft and breathy. “You were the one practically humping me, I didn’t think you had it in you to interrogate me too.”

He gnashes at the corner of your mouth now, and you desperately want him to move a little bit to the right, to connect your lips. Instead, you try to focus on not whimpering in front of him; only one of you should be pathetic in this situation, and it wasn’t you.

“Interrogation? That must be why I found those fluffy little handcuffs at your apartment.” House tilts his head, and you hold your breath, waiting for him to land against your lips. Instead, he drags his head down, and you feel him breathe against your neck. Your hands land against his shoulders, and you briefly think of them as traitorous. They could be pushing him away right now, or slapping him, or scratching his eyes out. Instead, they dig into the fabric of his shirt, and grip it as if your life depends on it.

House’s mouth is oddly soft against your neck. You don’t know why you were expecting it to feel rougher, but he’s slow and meticulous against your skin. He sucks at a spot, and even though you clamp your mouth down, he still hears the embarrassingly loud noise you make. You feel him smile against you, and you dig your nails into his shoulders in response.

He only has to press down with his palm against your throat to remind you who’s in power, and you can’t close your mouth in time to stop the groan spilling out. House looks up at you, blue eyes piercing through you with electricity. “Rethinking that question, sweetheart?”

You don’t like the thing that curls in you at his words- sweetheart. “Nup.”

He leans down, sucking against your throat and squeezing it with the other hand at the same time. He still stares up at you, and this time when you moan, you feel him rut against you. He releases your skin, biting at it only to soothe it with his tongue. “You sure? Cause, I can stop. I’m sure I could find something better to do; chase some poor undergrads around at the hospital or annoy Cuddy. If you don’t like it-”

His hand begins to loosen at your neck and your head is reeling, and you can’t believe you’re even answering, but the words tumble out in a blubbering mess. “Choked by you. Mmhm.”

He chuckles. “Slut.”

You laugh, staring down your nose at him. “So says the manwhore.”

He smiles but still squeezes against your neck, forcing you to exhale harshly. He props himself up, looking down at you. You can’t imagine the mess you are right now. You’re more than ecstatic that you’ve showered and scrubbed your teeth after being sick for so long, but you know your hair is sprawled beneath you and you’re losing miserably against the flush spreading across your face.

House’s eyes are…tender, almost, as he looks down at you, where his hand connects the two of you. It strikes you as out of place, that look. It was too tender, too love-like, to be seen in this dark bedroom where he was still choking you. You wondered what your own eyes were revealing, blown wide and gazing up at him.

But then he smirks and that look is lost, replaced by something darker. “This is just sex, right?”

You blink, shocked by his question. “Um, I-”

A knock sounds out, and you stop, head craning to look over House and towards his door. He doesn’t turn, still staring down at you and seemingly content to leave the unknown guest alone. But then another knock rings out, and another, and another, each with more force than the last.

When your eyes flick back to House’s you nod towards the doorway. “You should probably go check that. Might be one of your hookers.”

He doesn’t miss the snark in your tone, eyebrows furrowing, but before he responds, you scramble out from beneath him and drag yourself away. He stares at you where you sit, and you gulp lightly, trying not to betray any emotions across your face. But when another knock thuds somewhere from his apartment, House breaks eye contact with you and slips out of the bedroom door.

You sit on his bed, and try to slow your breathing. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Was this happening? After all your stupid wet dreams and stupid pining, was this happening? You feel your core throb in confirmation, and you flop against the bed, squeezing your legs tightly.

You stare up at the ceiling and your thoughts are projected against it. You were about to fuck House. And, if you’re honest with yourself, you think you still will. When he pops back into the room, tear off his clothes, ravage him and destroy him. But ‘This is just sex, right?’

Right?

You breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Right.

It’s not like that question pissed you off. It’s not like he was bringing up everything you two had fought over, about you possibly feeling something for him and him hating you for it, and waving it in your face like a pathetic schoolgirl who couldn’t control her heart. It’s not like he admitted he felt nothing for you but just wanted a quick fuck.

You could do this. Push aside everything that lay inside your bleeding heart and push aside all your fights and all you hatred, and finally get laid again.

You nod in determination. You were going to fuck House, and you were going to make sure it was everything you wanted, and you were not going to let any miniscule emotions get in the way of it.

Right.

Now, with your own pep-talk done and dusted, you register the voices ringing out in the hallway. Loud. Angry. Deep

You push yourself off the bed, grateful for whatever medication was coursing through you right now. You tiptoe to the doorway, casting a look out into the hallway. To your left is a bathroom, bare of anything but the real essentials. You peer the other way, and past a desk and bookshelf, you see House standing at the door.

You toe forward, trying to make sure he doesn’t see you spying on him. You hear House speak, back to the monotone, dry voice of his. “First Wilson and now you. I am helping her, not stringing her up in my attic for occult rituals.”

You miss the first part of the deep reply, but manage to catch the second. “She hates you, Mr Home. She’s coming with me, now.”

Your heartbeat picks up and House laughs, “Oh, she hates me so much that she was practically riding me back there-”

There’s the deft thud of knuckles on skin, and House stumbles to the side. Your stomach twists, and you push yourself forward, rushing forward on suddenly shaky legs. “House!”

House’s head whips to you, and you see the dark mark already appearing on his cheek from where he was punched. But then you spy the source of the deep voice, and stop in your tracks.

“Pops. What are you doing here?”

The burly man rushes forwards in spite of House’s exclamation, and wraps you in a tight hug. Your face is smothered in his chest, and you hear him above you. “Are you alright?! I haven’t seen you since that night and then I see him,” he spits, “taking you away! We go now, you’ll be safe.”

Finally, Pop’s puts you back to the floor, and you heave in the air that rushes forward. House grunts from where he stands. “You really are a bumbling idiot, aren’t you.”

Pop’s whirls, and you see fury on his face. You’re struggling to draw in breath. “I should hit you again, you dogish-”

House laughs. “Really? And then who’s going to help her when she collapses?” He gestures to you, and Pop whips his head back. “You and that awful moustache?

Your hands are at your chest, and you’re rattling in breaths. Pops face is filled with worry. “Kid, are you okay? What’s going on? What’s happening?”

House rolls his eyes. “She’s sick. That’s why she’s here, and why if you gave me three seconds, I would have told you not to pick her up and squeeze her like a stress toy.”

You wheeze out soft words, “He’s right. He’s getting me medication and getting me better,” You draw in more air, “But I’m still bad, Pops.”

Pops looks at you with concern. “You need to stay here? With him?”

You nod, abandoning words and focusing on drawing in breaths. Pops clenches his jaw. “Okay.” You can see the millions of thoughts that he wants to speak, but he simply says it again. “Okay.”

Pops steps forward, still wary of breaking you it seems, but places a gentle kiss to your forehead. He peers down at you. “You need me, or Ella, we’re there. No matter what.” He throws a look at House as if to say no matter who, too.

You smile weakly, and Pops retreats from the apartment with a fleeting glance towards you. House quickly steps forward, and locks the door.

You speak softly, with evening breathes. “Are you okay?”

Your eyes flick to the mark on House’s face, and he turns the other way. “You should go to bed. You’re gonna need the rest, especially after that.”

You blink. Just like that, you’re dismissed. "Are you...serious? After all that, I'm sent to bed like a bad kid?"

House rolls his eyes. "Don't make this into some big deal."

You laugh, and it sends you into a coughing fit. "Big deal? We're about to have sex and you get decked, and don't think it's a big deal?"

House's gaze flicks to yours and he sneers. "Exactly. No big deal. Because you hate me and there's no need to get worked up over someone that you 'couldn't stand being near'."

"Is that what Pops said?"

His jaw clenches. "You're not even denying it, are you?"

Your eyebrows cinch in. "You can't act surprised. You're the one who picks fights with me at work or at the ball! You're the one who hates me and hated that I even thought about loving you!"

Silence.

House stares at you, but you get the sense that he's looking through you, far away. "Take two of the tablets beside the bed before you go to sleep."

And with that, he grabs his cane and coat from beside the door and leaves.

[shadowtriovibes]

tell me anything (but don't you say he's what you're missing)

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: E

Word Count: 3.3K

Warnings: 18+, aged-up characters, miscommunication, pre-relationship garreth/poppy, explicit sexual content, semi-public sex, fingering, toxic bf behavior

Summary: request: “can you imagine the chaos of Sebastian and MC agreeing to go on a double date, with their own dates, to make the other jealous?? Bonus chaos if MC brings Garreth!!”

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

You’re on your way to Transfiguration when Garreth sidles up beside you on his mission.

You’ll blame Sebastian for how distracted you are at the moment. He’d begged off studying with you last night to do Merlin knows what — probably working his way through another one of those archaic magic books he’d managed to charm Scriber into letting him borrow, you think.

It had been a few days since you’d even seen him. Between tending to your N.E.W.T.-level plants in the greenhouses and Sebastian’s Quidditch practices, there had simply been no time.

If you were to be honest, it almost felt like you were being ignored.

So, when Garreth manages to pull you aside and offer you a compliment on your latest batch of Veritaserum that you’d presented for Sharp earlier that morning, it feels nice.

“Thank you, Garreth,” you murmur shyly. “That means a lot. Lately it feels like Sharp is so difficult to impress.”

“You’re a right sight better at it than me,” he laughs. “Speaking of which, I was actually thinking about offering you a sort of… trade.”

“Oh?” you ask, surprised. “What’s that?”

“Well, I was hoping you wouldn’t mind tutoring me in Potions before Sharp’s exam next week?” he asks hopefully. “I was thinking we could meet up for some extra practice in the evenings, and afterward I could take you to the Three Broomsticks to celebrate.”

You raise your eyebrows and clutch your books a bit closer to your chest. Is Garreth Weasley asking you to Hogsmeade on a date?

At first you think that can’t possibly be what he means. You’re with Sebastian after all, aren’t you?

( …Aren’t you?)

While you pause to consider Garreth’s offer, you remember that you’ve never heard Sebastian call you his girlfriend, nor have you ever discussed whether the two of you could date other people. Sure, you spend a lot of evenings together, and he’s traced his hands — and lips — across more of your body than anyone else. But is he your boyfriend?

You aren’t sure.

And Garreth is sweet. He’s always got a kind word to say to you whenever your potion goes awry or you struggle to learn a new charm. On top of that he’s plenty handsome, and he’s friendly in a way that makes Sebastian seem not unlike a feral cat whenever he curls up alone with one of his books instead of joining you by the fire in the common room.

“If it helps, I went to Sallow first,” Garreth explains. “I figured I should, given how close the two of you are, and he said it was perfectly fine for me to ask.”

Oh, he did, did he?

“Er… alright, yes,” you breathe. “That sounds lovely, Garreth.”

He beams brilliantly and your heart races a bit, but whether it’s from excitement or guilt, you aren’t quite sure.

Word quickly spreads around the castle that Garreth managed to snag a date with you, so you know it won’t be long until you have to answer to a certain Slytherin about the matter. In fact, when Sebastian sits down next to you the following afternoon at lunchtime, you’re quite sure that he already knows.

“Weasley? Really?” are the first words out of his mouth.

“Good afternoon to you too, Sebastian,” you sigh as you turn a page of your Charms textbook.

“What exactly are you playing at?” he asks you carefully. “Have I done something?”

“Believe it or not, not everything I do is about you,” you tell him cheekily. “I’m just helping Garreth with some of his potions techniques, that’s all.”

“‘That’s all?’” he repeats skeptically. “What about your little date, hmm? I had to hear about it from Amit, for Merlin’s sake.”

You shrug silently, and Sebastian’s jaw tenses.

“I wasn’t aware you were dating,” he grits out. “I suppose any expectation of exclusively on your end was foolish of me.”

You avert your gaze guiltily and eventually mumble, “It’s just Butterbeers, Bas. It’s not serious. Garreth is a good friend, don’t get your wand in a knot.”

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind if I bring a date of my own on Saturday?” he asks offhandedly.

You freeze, your eyes going wide. “What? Who?!”

“Poppy Sweeting,” he says innocently. “She’s a nice girl. Smart as a whip, too. Thought I’d take her for a Butterbeer or two and get to know her a little better. As it stands, I already asked her just this morning.”

You narrow your eyes at him while he meets your gaze expectantly.

“…Fine,” you eventually force out. “Honestly, I don’t even care.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Actually,” you counter, “why don’t we just make it a double date? Garreth and I, and you and Poppy.”

As far as bad ideas go, this one of yours is especially atrocious. However, once you’ve issued a challenge like that, Sebastian will feel that no choice but to meet it.

“Alright,” he says slowly. “You’re on. Saturday at seven, then?”

“We’ll see you then,” you answer, slamming your book closed and storming off, leaving your lunch unfinished.

———

When Saturday arrives, you agree to meet Garreth outside his common room.

Of course, this is mostly so you can avoid having to see Sebastian before he makes his way down to the kitchens to meet up with Poppy. However, Garreth, who is naïve to your antics with Sebastian, finds the whole thing quite charming.

“Don’t you look lovely,” he says when he steps out from behind the portrait of the Fat Lady.

“Thank you,” you demur. “I take it your Potions exam went well?”

“Passed with flying colors,” he says proudly. “All thanks to your excellent tutelage. Genuinely, I never could have done it without you.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” you protest, blushing. “You’ve got a knack for potions, I’ve seen it myself.”

“I’ve a knack for ruining potions,” he corrects with a laugh. “You’re the one with the talent required to achieve an Outstanding.”

The two of you make easy conversation as you walk the winding path down to Hogsmeade. You’re unpleasantly reminded of the very first time you took this path with Sebastian several years ago, and you try to force yourself to stay in the moment with your dear friend and not think about what Sebastian is doing.

(You absolutely do not want to imagine that he’s happily holding hands with Poppy further along down the path, or that he’s perhaps pulled her aside behind one of the many trees for a quick snog as he’s done with you countless times.)

Shortly after you arrive at the Three Broomsticks, Sirona seats you at a table that seats four and brings around your first round of Butterbeers. When Sebastian joins you a few moments later, he escorts Poppy right up to the table and gentlemanly pulls her chair out for her.

You quietly seethe while Sebastian winks at you over Poppy’s head and takes his seat next to her.

“It’s so good to see you!” Poppy says brightly, eagerly taking your hand. “I’m so glad we finally got to do this.”

“M-me too,” you stammer, forcing a smile. “You look lovely, Poppy.”

She beams happily and smooths her hands across her skirt. “Thank you! I suppose it’s rather nice to have an occasion to clean up for. I was in a right state earlier, as Professor Howin had me in the Diricawl pens all afternoon.”

“You’re always offering to help with those beasts,” you observe fondly. “They must adore you so.”

“I do my best,” she answers, going slightly pink.

“Garreth,” Sebastian offers cordially. “Good to see you, mate.”

“Sebastian,” Garreth replies. “Likewise. I’ve hardly seen you outside the library in ages!”

Sebastian smiles ruefully and says, “Well, now that you mention it, I haven’t told anyone yet, but I’ve been busy preparing my application for the Auror recruitment program.”

You nearly choke on your Butterbeer, and Poppy kindly offers you her napkin.

“Auror recruitment?” Garreth asks, followed by a low whistle. “Impressive.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?” you ask Sebastian directly.

“It was going to be a surprise,” he tells you simply, but you suspect the truth has more to do with his reticence to share the news until he’s been accepted.

“And?” you ask him expectantly.

He merely shrugs. “No word yet. I just sent it off this morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be accepted, Sebastian,” Poppy says encouragingly. “You seem like an excellent candidate.”

He shrugs again and thanks her for the kind words. You attempt to hide your sullen expression behind your Butterbeer mug.

You manage to make it through the first round and the next without any real mishaps. Unfortunately, when your third mug arrives, Garreth casually drapes his arm across the back of your chair, and Sebastian gets that look on his face that you recognize as one that imminently precludes some sort of nonsense.

“Garreth,” he says slowly. “I meant to ask earlier, how did your tutoring go?”

“Quite well,” he answers happily. “I got decent marks for once, thanks to this one.”

Sebastian hums thoughtfully while you grin back at Garreth. Then he casually says, “You wouldn’t have happened to be practicing with Amortentia, perhaps? Because it certainly looks like the two of you have gotten quite close rather quickly.”

Your jaw drops, and Garreth goes red.

“N-no, just some regular antidotes,” he quickly stammers. “I wouldn’t — that’s not, um.”

“No, of course you wouldn’t,” Sebastian says easily. “Must just be your natural charm then.”

You cannot believe him.

“Sebastian, may I please speak to you for a moment?” you hiss. “Privately?”

He offers nothing in response. Rather, he simply stands up from his chair and wordlessly gestures toward the stairs behind the bar.

“I’m so sorry, we’ll just be a moment,” you mumble to Garreth as you quickly turn and make your way toward the stairs, trusting Sebastian to follow.

As soon as you round the corner, the noise from the pub downstairs drops significantly. You imagine it’s probably some kind of charm to offer Sirona’s upstairs guests a moment of respite — in fact, it’s the first time all evening that you’ve been able to hear yourself think.

Mercifully, it’s entirely empty at the moment, which means you can round on Sebastian as forcefully as you please.

“Sebastian, what has gotten into you tonight?” you ask him.

“Me?” Sebastian asks, and then he has the audacity to laugh. “What about you?”

“What about me?!” you demand. “I’ve been nothing but polite all evening, which is more than I can say for you!”

“Oh, polite,” he drawls. “Sure. ‘You look lovely this evening, Poppy! You’re so talented with beasts, bloody brilliant, you are!’”

“What’s wrong with that?” you counter. “Poppy is my friend, and she is brilliant.”

“You’re not — Merlin, it’s just…” Sebastian starts before signing frustratedly and trailing off mid-thought.

“Go on,” you insist. “Say it.”

He drags a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath before practically shouting, “All the compliments, the praise, it’s like you actually want me to date her!”

You freeze as you anxiously grip the wooden railing at your side to steady yourself.

“…You could,” you say quietly, nervously tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as an excuse to turn away from him. “Poppy is lovely.”

The frustrated groan he lets out makes your knees go a little weak.

“She’s not you,” he finally admits. “I can’t… I don’t want her.”

“Then tell me,” you plead. “Who do you want?”

“You know who I want,” he says in a low voice. “You’ve known, love. I thought it was quite clear what we are.”

“Clear?” you scoff. “You’ve got to be joking. I’ve never known where we stand, Sebastian. You’re practically incorrigible one day and then the next you barely look at me. You tell me you ache for me and then you’ll tell Garreth that he should ask to court me. What was I supposed to think?”

“Wh-what?” Sebastian stammers. “I told Garreth what?!”

“He told me that you said he could ask me to Hogsmeade,” you repeat. “He said he talked to you before he even approached me.”

Sebastian looks seething mad. “That foul git, I would never have said that.”

“Garreth isn’t a liar,” you stubbornly insist. “Nor did he spike me with Amortentia, by the way.”

“I barely talk to him, when would I have—” Sebastian starts, and then he stops in his tracks again. “Hang on.”

“Here we go,” you mumble under your breath.

“Last week he asked me if it would be alright to approach you about some tutoring,” he says slowly. “Not a date, mind you.”

“Was it tutoring, or ‘tutoring ?’” you ask patiently, leaning hard into the inflection.

Sebastian quirks an eyebrow. “There’s a difference?”

Merlin’s beard, he truly is unbearably thick.

“You arse,” you grit out. “Of course there’s a difference! He meant the latter.”

“I only said that I figured you’d offer to help him study because you’re a good friend!” he counters, indignant. “If I’d known that this was his intention, I never would have encouraged it!”

“…Really?” you ask hesitantly, suddenly shyer than before as you shift anxiously in the quiet rafters of the pub. “Because I… I thought you’d told him to ask me out because you’d grown tired of me.”

For as dense as Sebastian can occasionally be, he has a knack for recognizing when you’re feeling unmoored, and he’s always quick to ground you in his arms.

“Darling,” he sighs, reaching for you with careful hands until it’s apparent that you’ll let him pull you in against his chest without a fight.

“I will never grow tired of you,” he murmurs into your hair. “And I know I’m probably a dreadful boyfriend, but if you’ll give me another chance I’ll make it up to you, however you want.”

“‘Boyfriend,’ hmm?” you ask softly. “Is that what you are?”

“…Merlin, I really am rubbish at this, aren’t I?” he laughs self-deprecatingly.

“Sebastian,” you say quietly. “You know I’m mad about you, but we have to do this right this time. If you’re my boyfriend, then be my boyfriend.”

“I swear to it,” he says as he gently sways you side to side, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I’m all yours, love.”

You allow yourself to be held for long enough that you start to feel guilty for having abandoned your dates. Just as you’re about to suggest that the two of you go back downstairs and make some excuses, you feel his hands start to drift lower — down your sides to your hips, and then teasing at the hem of your skirt.

“Bas,” you hiss. “No.”

“Come on,” he whispers into your ear. “No one is up here, we’re all alone. Let me touch you, just for a bit?”

You whimper quietly as he backs you up against the railing. Down below you can hear the noise from the crowded pub, and you honestly can’t be sure if anyone can see you up here in the darkened rafters.

“There you are,” Sebastian mumbles as he nudges your legs apart with one of his thighs. “Good girl.”

“You’re obscene,” you gasp, whining softly when he presses two long fingers against your entrance through your thin undergarments. “…Don’t stop.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmurs.

Sebastian noses along your jawline until you tip your head back for him, your eyes fluttering shut as he carefully works a bruise into your skin right above the collar. You know damn well that Garreth and Poppy will spot it as soon as you return downstairs, but you can’t find it in yourself to ask him to stop.

As he marks you up, he slips his fingers inside your panties and easily presses them into you. You let your legs fall open wider so he can work his thumb against your clit the way he knows you like.

“Sebastian,” you sigh.

“Do you think Weasley would do this for you?” he growls against your jaw. “You think he would bring you up here away from everyone else and touch you like this?”

“N-no,” you stutter.

“No, he wouldn’t,” he continues. “He’s too polite, like sweet little Poppy.”

“Be nice,” you whine.

“Maybe the two of them should give it a go,” he sneers. “Leave all the real fun to us, hmm?”

You rest your head on his shoulder while he works you over, curling his fingers to press against that spot inside you that makes your legs tremble and your eyes roll back.

“After I make you come, I want you to go back downstairs with me and set things straight,” he murmurs. “They’ll know exactly what you let me do and all this will be over, just like that.”

“What about you?” you whimper. “Can I touch you first?”

“I’ll wait,” he tells you softly. “Until after, in the Undercroft. You’ll take care of me then, won’t you, love?”

Merlin, you wish he’d let you get him off now. You can feel the hard outline of his cock pressing against your hip and you wish he’d just pull it out and fill you up right here, even though Sirona would undoubtedly ban you for life.

“Bas,” you whine. “Please.”

“As much as I love how eager you are, darling,” he murmurs, punctuating his words with a particularly firm thrust of his hand, “we’ll need somewhere much more private.”

When he finally brings you off, you’re already thinking about how you’ll get on your knees for him as soon as the gate to the Undercroft shuts behind you.

He’s grinning when you eventually open your eyes.

“You’re unbelievable,” you hiss.

He merely smirks and gently pulls his hand out from between your thighs, letting your messy, ruined undergarments settle back into place. You wince knowing you’ll have no choice but to wear them to go downstairs and even back to the castle.

“We ought to be off,” he says lazily. “We’ve kept our poor dates waiting long enough, I think.”

You shift your skirt slightly as you sneak back downstairs behind Sebastian. However, before either of you can rejoin the table, Sebastian pauses just around the corner and gently holds up a hand.

“Look,” he murmurs.

Across the room, you see Poppy giggling happily while Garreth demonstrates a trick with one of the pub’s napkins. He taps his wand against it and it folds itself into a plush-looking Niffler, and then a friendly Kneazle. Lastly, he wads it up himself and offers it to her with a cheeky grin, and you know from having seen him carry out the same trick during one of your tutoring sessions that he’s just told her it’s a Puffskein.

She laughs brightly and blushes, easily accepting it from him.

“Well, well,” you murmur. “Poppy and Garreth… who would’ve thought?”

Sebastian just turns around and smiles smugly at you.

“Don’t start,” you warn him. “You didn’t.”

“I absolutely did,” he beams. “Come on, love. Did you really think I had a thing for Poppy? I love you, and she’s been here for Garreth this whole time.”

Your mouth hangs open uselessly while you try to put together a witty retort, but you’re utterly at a loss for words.

“B-but it was my idea to make it a double date!” you eventually stammer.

“Was it, though?” he asks knowingly, and you simply groan in frustration.

Sebastian laughs delightedly while you follow him out the front doors of the pub, the only intelligible words coming out of your mouth being “wanker” and “unbelievable.”

But when he wraps his arm around your waist and starts to walk you back to the castle, you figure you won’t really be angry with him for long — not when he’s finally demonstrated that he actually does have a sweet side.

[weirdworldofwinnie]

Oasis in a Desperate Land of Dark Desire - Part Four: Riding out the Storm

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer x Female Wife Reader NSFW 18+ only

Summary: Robert and you spend an electrically charged night camping out in the desert on his day off, hoping to rekindle and rebound after a somewhat challenging week.

Word Count: ~4,395

Warnings: Mostly smut (unprotected and oral sex), age gap, anxiety/fear pertaining to thunderstorms

Usual disclaimers apply, obviously NOT based on complete real life historical accuracy, this is essentially AU fantasy/fiction with Cillian as Oppenheimer.

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Tag List: @forgottenpeakywriter, @frozenhuntress67, @immyowndefender, @szde8-blog, @bypurple, @irenethewoman, @uniquetacofun, @noirrose21-blog, @gridmouse86

If you'd like to be part of the tag list, let me know.

When the following Sunday came around, you were in far better spirits for your cycle had tapered off and the general mood in town was boosted by many of the scientists, including Robert, who had the day off from working. He had decided on going riding and camping out in the desert tonight for just the two of you and was currently saddling and packing up the horses outside as you came out to join him, getting up on your mare as soon as he was ready to go.

He smiled and kicked his stallion in the flank, trotting fast after you out of the barriers of town and into the desert, where you kept at a steady pace until he caught up beside you, bouncing lightly up and down in the saddle.

"Don't you want to race or are you too afraid to lose?" he called over the rushing wind in your ears and you glanced at him, feeling spurred on by that comment, so you slapped the reins and gave the horse a push to gallop, thundering hard across the land. You looked back over your shoulder with a triumphant laugh as you left him in the dust and his horse was gradually diminishing in sight, a brown blur dotting the expanse.

Eventually, you slowed and he caught up, carefully riding along the edge of a canyon and slowly trailing it for a while, listening to the soft stomps of the horse's hooves and heavy breathing.

"I allowed you to win back there, you know," he commented cockily with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, unimpressed.

"Oh, I'm so honored at your consideration, but I think you're just not acquainted with the prospect of losing."

"Only with you I am," he muttered and you laughed, tossing your head to feel the air and dipping down the trail, gradually winding through pine forests and around boulders, rocky outcroppings, and thoroughly riding for a long while, farther than you'd explored previously and for minutes you wondered if you and him had become truly lost... But then the ground leveled and once out of the rougher areas and into broader flatland, you picked up pace again.

It was all very emotionally beneficial to be out in the open away from town and work, whether it be Robert's or your own housekeeping and studying. Even the socializing was a kind of effort and having time to be just together, hardly talking, out in nature with no obligations until tomorrow was such a microcosmic blessing. The clean air procured a clean mind and the scent on the breeze was a complete refresher from the stale cigarette infused buildings.

You inhaled and exhaled, dismounting the horse and running a hand through your tresses while catching your breath as Robert came up behind you and did similar actions before taking your hand and tugging you to a brushy area with a few shrubs.

"Mind if I relieve myself right here?" he asked, detaching from your hand and loosening his belt, unzipping his fly, and promptly dropping his drawers. You smiled, stepping back and watching him urinate a steady stream straight into the shrub. He glanced at you as you giggled openly at his liquidized "performance" and cast a bit of skepticism.

"You're very immature sometimes. We're married and it's a perfectly normal biological function, I don't see what is so entertaining about it?"

"Did you know yours is the only one I've ever really been exposed to on a regular basis? I've never had another man's so often as yours," you commented and he looked down, flicking before pulling up the pants and tucking it back in with a zip.

"I'm sad to say that you haven't been the only woman I've had the pleasure of being so intimate with." He strode back over to the horses, gently catching your cheek with his fingers along the way, caressing for a second.

"Remember when you took my virginity?" you asked softly and his eyes raked down your body frame, the past flickering in his mind.

"I do quite well; you were such a tight little thing and very nervous, so inexperienced that it took us a few go arounds to loosen you up to me." He smiled fondly, going to tend to his horse by giving him water from one of the canteens.

"How was your very first time?" you asked curiously, for he had never discussed much of his life particularly as a young man coming of age long before he had met you and it was others who had told you more about his mental and emotional difficulties at Cambridge during his time studying abroad for his doctorate. For whatever personal reason, he had always neglected airing his vulnerabilities from that period of his youth in front of you and you saw him glance down now, visibly uneasy.

"It was very unglamorous, I actually cried," he muttered bitterly and you raised your eyebrows.

"Really?"

"Yes, she and I both did. It was shameful, but thankfully that was an awkward phase I grew exponentially out of. Experience is a great teacher, if not occasionally harsh, but I have much better now... I have you and that's a comfort I suppose." He sighed wistfully, tugging on the bridle, patting the stallion's neck and rubbing his fingers through the coarse dark brown mane. You wandered away to relieve yourself as well, finding a more secluded spot and putting an indentation into the dry soil to crouch over and wipe clean with tissues you packed in a bag. By the time you came back, Robert was waiting on his horse and starting to move.

"It'll be getting dark soon, so let's find a site to set up camp not too far off," he announced with a brisk change of attitude and you nodded, going to saddle your own horse and he led the way only a bit further to a clear spot on a hill surrounded by several sprawling bushes and stunted trees on either sides. You helped him with the army grade spacious tent and built a small fire, which kept petering out from the growing gusts of wind and was unlikely to provide much warmth to last the night. You unpacked the two ham and cheese sandwiches you'd brought in the knapsack along, but as usual, he neglected an appetite and resorted to smoking a lone cigarette outside the tent, sitting by himself and staring out at the hills with a deeply pensive expression.

"Do you want one?" you asked of him, but it was as if he never heard you, fixed intently on the skyline.

"Robert, please eat something before we hunker down for the night and stay hydrated, will you? Your mouth will be dryer than a day's ashtray."

You left the sandwich on his lap and went to grab a flask of water, coming back to see he hadn't touched it.

"Eat," you pressed, picking it up and pushing it towards his mouth, causing him to finally - reluctantly - take a bite into it before setting it down again. You took a swig from the flask and watched him just sit there until you grew too frustrated and snatched it off his lap and back into the bag.

"You're worried about me," he muttered quietly and you sighed, nodding.

"I am. Don't lose any more weight, it's frankly scaring me seeing how almost skeletal you've been becoming these past few months. People rely on you here, you can't become too frail and catch sickness."

"My energy levels and functionality are stable."

"Well, I don't know how you do it, but I wish you'd have more than primarily drinks and cigarettes. You ate pretty well when the children were over, couldn't you do more of that? That was the healthiest I've seen you and dare I say happiest?"

He just nodded hesitantly with nothing further and you leaned your head on his shoulder, listening to his rhythms and watching the thickening clouds gathering in the west.

"It looks like rain tonight," you observed and he agreed, pulling you towards the tent.

"We might have quite a show," he said and you automatically tensed.

"Maybe we should head back..." you wondered worriedly, but he shook his head firmly.

"No, no time for that. We stay here and let it roll over. I've weathered storms like this before and once the air cools overnight, it will be bright and fresh as new by dawn."

You closed the tent tightly, checking for any chance of holes or leaks as thunder rumbled distantly and rain began to sprinkle the dusty ground. The tent buffered the blowing wind and you prayed the pegs would be strong enough to hold it down as gusts were making concaves in the fabric and shaking the framework. Lighting the kerosene lantern, you placed it in the corner where it cast black shadows with an orange glow and you shivered, drawing your light jacket closer. You turned around to see Robert unbuttoning his pale blue shirt and fumbling with his belt buckle, fingers twitching anxiously.

"Here? During the storm?" you whispered with a quickly parching dry mouth and he paused in trepidation with his trousers halfway down.

"Why not...? Are you frightened?"

"I hate these storms, we've never stayed out to experience one so close like this, and it's making me very nervous."

"Frank and I have been caught out in worse, calm down. I thought we could have a good time since we've been busy and out here there is no threat of interruptions, so you can be as crazy as you want."

You felt a prick of arousal and you do want him badly, but your nerves were skyrocketing more importantly.

"I'm too stressed," you admitted and he waved his hand dismissively.

"What you're forgetting, though, is that sex can very much be a stress reliever, so I'd be doing you a great favor."

But you pulled your knees up to your chest defensively and he sighed, reluctantly tugging his pants back up to sit at his slim waist. You took another sip of water from the flask and flinched at the first bright flash of lightning, but Robert's blue orbs lit up with excitement and before you could stop him, he unzipped the tent and crawled out, holding his hat to his head.

"Wait, where are you going?!" you gasped, going to peer out cautiously from the opening and you clutched the tent material in your fists, taking breaths to calm your racing heartbeat.

He was standing under the dark sky and tilting his face up to feel the splashing rain assault his skin and soaking his hat completely as the storm began to rage, full of angry gray blackening clouds harboring bolts of heat lightning with subsequent rolling thunder.

"Get inside!" you called, cringing, and he turned back with a grin, gesturing at the sky with a shout.

"Isn't it a marvelously grand natural spectacle?!"

You couldn't disagree, for it was in a frightening way, but you also saw it was rolling almost right overhead and the lightning was strobing at a wincing frequency with thunder booming, making your teeth rattle and you could feel the vibration in your chest. This was terribly dangerous.

"Robert, get in here now!" you nearly screamed and finally he walked back to the tent, crouching down and folding his body inside, quickly closing the entrance up behind him. You pulled off his wet hat and flung it to a corner as he smiled, nearly giddy, and you were not the least bit comforted.

"I really don't like this," you whimpered and his ecstatic energy faded, coming close to cup your face as you laid down on the sleeping bag, closing your eyes and shaking at the continuously booms. He removed the rest of his clothing and you grabbed his shirt, which smelled of pungent tobacco and sweat, to wrap tightly around yourself as he tossed the trousers away to the side and was now only in his boxers.

"Let me distract you," he breathed, but you were as tightly wound as a coiled hose and he leaned back, breathing with anticipation as the lightning cracked across the sky outside.

You watched his bare chest rising and falling, his boxers pressed for containment of his already erecting cock and the more you stared at it, the less rigid you began to feel and a feverish heat struck you, beginning to make you moisten, so you threw off his shirt and quickly unbuttoned your blouse, stripping it off and sliding your riding pants down to expose the dainty band of white underwear teasing out from your waist.

"Robert, touch me," you suddenly urged as he looked on with an obvious ache.

"I'd be glad to," he replied in a whisper, scooting over to lean in and help remove the bra, fingers grazing over your supple flesh until you were exposed, nipples hardened with blood. He slipped a hand down to your panties and jerked them down, carefully sliding them down your legs with the light force of surgical precision, until eventually you were left completely naked on the sleeping bag, still quivering slightly. He gently caressed your body length from neck to ankles and hummed a tune in an effort to calm you. Another crash of thunder made you jolt, but he came down on top and kissed you with impressionable impact, crushing his tongue into yours and smooshing his nose against your face, swirling tongues. You whimpered and panting, he pulled away abruptly as your arms reached out, groping at a bag nearby.

"What is it?" he asked, bringing it closer and you dug in a side pocket to find the spearmint chewing gum you kept on hand for situations without toothpaste, handing him a stick and one for yourself.

"Ah, I see." He popped it in his mouth and chewed fast before spitting it out and you did the same, satisfied enough. You then dug your fingers into his clipped hair, feeling every bristly inch of his scalp and neck.

"I need you," you breathed seductively with much desperation.

"I do more," he whispered back, going to meet your mouth again (he tasted deliciously of mint and he licked off the accumulating drool drizzling out the corner of your bottom lip) and then you pressed your forehead to his, goosebumps peppering up your arms with anticipation and excitement. He cupped your breasts with his palms and rolled his thumbs over your stiff nipples, surprising you when he tweaked them between two fingers and a whine escaped, giving away any reservations. You sat up and pulled him close, straddling his lap and wrapping your legs around his lean midriff while nuzzling into his neck and ear, making his breathing quicken and he murmured sweet nothings to your hair, cradling the back of your neck with one hand and the other resting under your bottom, lightly squeezing your ass cheeks, and you squirmed restlessly around his crotch, barely listening to the storm outside. You closed your eyes shut tightly, dulling the occasional flashing illuminating the tent and he moved his hands down to his boxers, ridding himself free and he sprung out against your stomach, the head dripping in warm, gooey pre-cum.

"Do you want a taste?" he breathed lowly and you nodded, blindly moving down and feeling his body until you came to his cock and you gripped the shaft, bringing it to your lips and suckling on the end, swallowing his fluids as if it were nourishment and he shuddered with the action of you taking him orally, struggling to control his own impulses. You pulled out, tongue raking over his swollen member and the indigo veins pulsating with rushing blood. He groaned, so close, and you pulled back to fondle his balls, delicately compressing teasingly.

"Don't hit top so fast," you chastised as he flexed, dangerously near to squirting.

"Then you will have to stop touching altogether," he gasped, face pinkening with the strenuous effort of holding back.

"Then do me, darling... Bring me to where you are," you coaxed, shifting position so he could access your vagina, which was creating pockets of natural lubricant swelling at the lips in anticipation. The rain pattered the tent and his finger wormed into your opening, exploring and your walls enveloped it, making him smile at your high pitching whimpers.

"So easy... You don't even need me entirely," he whispered in observance.

"Oh, but I do..." you moaned, getting closer to where you wanted to be and he jammed up another finger, making you twitch instinctively and writhe with heat.

"Robert, no, I can't stop it - I-I'm gonna-"

"Go on, then," he ordered and you squealed in overloading pleasure, grinding with his hand.

"That's a girl, that's my love," he whispered in praise and your back arched, a muscle spasming in your foot as he slowly removed his fingers, wiping them on your vaginal opening, smearing cum all over the skin.

"Now it's my turn," he murmured, his weight that was hardly over 125 pounds hovering onto you, arms down behind your head as he went in to align and thrusted his hips as fast as he could without piercing you too painfully. All too shortly, he grunted and his semen spit into your cervix, filling you up and you clenched before swiftly pushing him back to the sleeping bag, rolling with him in the fabric to come out on top, letting his cock join your pussy and you rocked with him, jumping slightly at another loud clap of thunder, but the pleasure was more pressing than whatever Mother Nature was displaying outside and minutes later, you internally exploded into euphoria overtaking every other function of your being, yelping as loudly as possible and desperately clinging, digging, into his shoulder blades.

"Fuck, it feels so gooood..." you moaned, riding the waves of arousal cresting and ebbing.

"Well, it had better if I'm doing it and if not, then that's simply an impossibility otherwise," Robert replied too smugly and you playfully smacked his chest, grooving up and down with his cock. He grinned, flashing his white teeth in the yellow-orange light of the single lantern and relished in observing you enjoying him a few more times until you grew fatigued, legs aching and trembling from the exertions.

"I love your orgasms," he said softly as you panted, catching air.

"How do you know you love them? You can't feel what I do," you breathed densely, stroking his throat.

"I enjoy watching you experience them," he clarified with emphasis.

"If beauty were a feeling, this would most certainly be it," you decided with a smile and he echoed it, palming your cheek and rubbing a thumb on your tender earlobe.

"Beauty isn't a feeling, she's a person."

You blushed and his grin grew broader, tracing his thumb down your jaw and ending at your chin, which he pressed into lightly and you giggled, straddling his dick again.

When you hit your last climax, you collapsed onto his chest with his cock still twitching inside you and the sticky mess was gathering between his body and yours when he shifted, gradually squirming out of your hole and you closed your eyes, listening to the lessening storm moving off to the east and Robert held you close as you mumbled faintly to his shoulder.

"My father used to say when I was a child that thunder was the byproduct of the gods having a game of bowling."

"Then they're getting a lot of strikes tonight," he chuckled before speaking more seriously.

"Now, if we go by mythology alone, it would surely be the work of Astrapē and Brontē, unless Zeus is on the warpath again with his own thunderbolts that were actually fashioned by the Uranian Cyclopes, notably Brontes, Steropes, and Arges. Did you know brontē translates to thunder, the name 'Steropes' comes from steropē, meaning 'lightning bolt', and 'Arges' originates from argē, or 'flashing'?"

"Tell me about them all," you whispered sleepily and he began to recite from Greek, voice fading and tuning in and out like a poor radio broadcast as you drifted in and out of a state of sleep, disorienting your surroundings, but the one constant was him underneath you.

After a while and he had grown quiet, you groaned, getting off him with ears perked for noise of the storm, but there was only a steady rain trickling off outside, the light show and rock and roll done with, so you unzipped the tent and hurried outside. The fire had long gone out and the air had indeed cooled, moist on your skin and a balm to your lungs as you went to urinate over several feet away, letting some of the sexual fluids leak out, and as soon as you were finished, you scuttled back to the tent lightly soaked in rain and inside, Robert had made a comfortable nest out the sleeping bag and couple blankets, ready to rest with you. You snuggled in and he cupped your face, bringing you close to his side and you almost fell asleep instantly to dwell in a dark depth.

You were marked with a bit of relief when early morning came, the daylight breaking out over the mountains and you stumbled nude out of the tent, shivering from the chill and breathing in that stinging freshness of rain. You caught the first beam of sunlight coming up over the hills and you felt Robert come to hug you from behind and nuzzle into the side of your neck, him still unclothed as well. The thought of someone spotting the two of you out here bare as could be crossed your mind, but that was impossible for this was too remote. The sky was blissfully silent and pink clouds drifted lazily from the horizon, clearing out for another day.

"Have you ever had sexual intercourse during the course of a thunderstorm before?" you asked softly and he breathed out slowly, his warm breath blowing onto your neck and chin.

"I have done a great many unusual experiences, but none such as this with you. I would do it wholeheartedly a hundred times over."

"I think I would too," you replied sincerely and he spun you around to press his forehead to yours and cradle your head in a loving vice.

"I can't think of a more powerful way to express my love for you, Aphrodite," he murmured and you felt like crying for whatever reason. You blinked, lashes wet, and he pulled back to stare at you with a sort of fascination.

"We should dress," you pointed out and he glanced down at his bare appendages with a grin.

"What's the hurry?"

"The horses are watching," you said quietly and awkwardly, noticing both of them standing stock still and heads facing in your directions.

"Well, in that case..." Robert quickly ducked back into the tent, tugging you with him and falling to the sleeping bag with a grin.

"I'm ready for it, if you want a round two?" he asked with some excitement and then wasted no time as you let him feel you up before his cock pushed in again, but you weren't wet hardly enough and it made you wince at the brash roughness shoving into your semi-tight hole. He gripped the blanket pooling around your head and grunted, thrusting as you whimpered, attempting to shove him off.

"Robert, no, it hurts," you protested and upon seeing your visibly contorted face of pain, he immediately stopped trying, rolling off to the side and huffing.

"God, I'm sorry... I forget it's too fast sometimes, I suppose I should've brought lubrication," he apologized sheepishly and you sighed, cuddling into his slim body and resting a hand on his flat stomach.

"Do we have to go back to town? I think I could stay out here forever," you admitted and you could hear the prideful joy in his tone.

"I knew I could make it work, having combined my love for physics and the New Mexico countryside. Destiny, you reckon?"

"No, just hard work and the right connections," you answered flatly.

"Such a boring realist," he teased and you chuckled, lying in silence for a while with him until a glaring sunlight hit the tent walls, glowing up the space in a translucent light.

"Wait, what time is it?" you inquired pressingly and he checked his watch, the relaxation dimming into a grim seriousness.

"Time to pack up and ride back before they send the calvary to find us," he said, not covering his bit of disappointment and getting up to pull his boxers back on. You both redressed in the clothes from yesterday and folded up the tent, packing on the horses and you settled on yours to follow behind Robert on his out of the campsite and along the way you came from, give or take a certain pathway and few miles.

When you finally reached Los Alamos, it was broad daylight and military personnel were stationed as usual by the gate. Robert calmly nodded after checking in briefly and went clopping by the checkpoint first while you tried to ignore a few stares and some man actually whistled, making you feel entirely self-conscious, as though you were an open book and they could somehow know or likely assume all that had happened overnight, but that was absolutely absurd; security was tight here, but not that extreme to tail you out into the desert.

You trotted your horse up beside Robert's and he looked to you, raising eyebrows at your leery expression.

"Everything alright?" he asked curiously and you bit your lip, unable to voice your true doubts, so you downplayed it.

"It's really nothing, I'm just reacclimating to being in town after such a night. I'll tell you, even with that horrid storm, I didn't miss it much here."

He nodded nonchalantly and then gave you a cautious once-over, licking his lips.

"I'm already nostalgic for that wilderness journey. How about, if it's permitted, we do the same another time, just you and me again?" he proposed knowingly.

"It's a date, then." You smiled as the horses took you and him down the road towards home.

Thanks for reading, I always appreciate any feedback and the patience as I continue work on slowly developing this further. I will say there's going to be a party next chapter and I'll be adding Ernest Lawerence (Josh Hartnett) in, so maybe look forward to that ❤️