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sunsburns · 1 month

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four or five moments (ii.)

pairing: wade wilson/deadpool x fem!assassin!reader

summary: you're literally just trying to do your job, and it's going great so far, you've killed trask, all you have left is to stop that truck from leaving new york. few problems: deadpool can't stay dead, you're having a moral dilemma and why is that car getting closer? oh shit-!

—or: deadpool literally hits you with a car

word count: 4k+

warnings: fem reader, wade being nasty, flirting, sex jokes, canon violence, there isn't too much plot, blood, strange conversations about morality, wade being annoying, he also breaks the fourth wall a few times, i did not pre-read this pls bare with spelling mistakes

notes: i was peer pressured to write this. it literally strays off from the og plot so bad you get whiplash!!

part one

All you really need is four or five moments.

Four or five moments to prove that you're better than them, that you wouldn't stoop as low, to prove that an eye for an eye will only leave two people blind. No blood will bring mercy. No. But it might get you some peace of mind knowing that they can't hurt you anymore, knowing that there's one less asshole on the earth that's trying to hurt you and the people you care about. It is heartless, you're well aware, but you are not trained to have much of a heart, much less to care.

You remind yourself of that fact as lights blur into neon streaks and speeding vehicles race by. Your heart pounds in your chest, adrenaline sharpening your senses, and the stab wound on your leg becomes a distant throb.

You leap onto a motorcycle conveniently left unattended by a fleeing warehouse worker, hot-wiring it with practiced ease. The engine roars to life, and you peel out onto the road, weaving through traffic. The bike vibrates beneath you, a sleek, powerful beast responding to your every command.

Behind you, Deadpool is a persistent shadow. You catch glimpses of his red suit and mask as he commandeers a car, recklessly swerving through lanes to catch up to you. His determination is infuriating, but you can't afford to be distracted. You grit your teeth, focusing on the chase.

Your earpiece crackles to life, and a familiar voice comes through. "I've got eyes on your tracker," your handler says. "They're heading towards the docks. Be careful; we don't know if it's a set-up."

"Understood," you reply, voice steady despite the chaos.

As you near the docks, the industrial landscape looms ahead, a labyrinth of shipping containers and cranes casting long shadows in the dim light. The truck is just ahead, its taillights glowing like beacons.

You accelerate closer, and with one hand, you grab an energy gun, in a quick movement, you shoot at the truck doors, immediately regaining your grip on the handle afterwards. The doors fly open, revealing giant metal scraps and wooden crates.

You nearly curse, swerving out of the way when a pipe tumbles out from the back of the truck, crashing onto the road. The clang of metal on asphalt echoes in your ears. You slow down by the truck's blind spot, knowing you'd have to stop it, especially now that the cargo was confirmed to be in it.

You stay ready with your gun, pulling it from the holster on your thigh. You wait a beat, then another, and as the truck starts to pick up speed, you make your move and roll up to the driver's window, shooting through the glass. The bullet flies through the driver's head, causing him to slump forward, pressing on the horn. The blaring sound drowns out your second shot, which takes down the man in the passenger seat before he can shoot you.

The truck starts to slow, veering erratically before it crashes into a building with a deafening crunch of metal and shattering glass. The impact takes down a few light posts and parked cars, sending debris flying. Broken electrical wires dance and crackle around the wreck, their sparks reflected in the spray of a burst fire hydrant.

"Great job," your handler's voice crackles through your comms. "Dispose of the truck. No witnesses—"

The connection cuts off as you are violently hit from the side by a black car. The force of the impact sends you flying off your bike, tumbling across the rough asphalt. Your suit and helmet take most of the fall, tearing and cracking under the friction. Your visor shatters, the protective plastic lining breaking at the base.

You feel the sting and burn of broken skin on your arms and legs, grime and dirt mixing with the blood seeping from your cuts. Your vision is blurred, and a high-pitched ringing fills your ears. Every breath you take is shallow and painful, your ribs protesting with each inhale. Biting the inside of your cheek, you push yourself to pull off your broken helmet, tossing it aside. You blink hard, trying to focus your vision and spot a figure approaching.

Through the haze of pain and confusion, you recognize the distinctive red and black suit. Deadpool. He strides towards you with casual confidence, katana in hand, his eyes hidden behind the mask but undoubtedly filled with a mix of amusement and determination. The streetlights cast eerie shadows on his suit, highlighting the dried blood and grime.

"Please, don't be mad, honeybuns." Deadpool's irritating voice is the first thing you can hear when the ringing stops. He's standing before you, gloved hands out for you to take.

You don't move, heaving, "What the fuck, Wade?"

"Oh, are we on a first-name basis now? I think I like it." Wade Wilson hums, and when you still don't take his hands, he kneels before you. The smell of sweat and gunpowder wafts off him, mingling with the metallic scent of blood. "I know this all seems a little confusing—"

"You hit me with a fucking car, you dick!" you belt out, eyes wide with rage. The pain and exhaustion make your voice hoarse, every word a struggle.

"Well, yes. But it's only fair—"

"Fuck you."

"Listen to me." He says a little desperately, and you're glaring at him through your tears. Wade doesn't let it get to him, instead, he calls out your name, barely above a whisper as he looks at you. "You are getting innocent people killed." He tells you. "Look around. This might not be a cul-de-sac, but there are civilians, and they're hurt. We need to leave. You need to call it."

You glance over his shoulder, tired eyes scanning the area. He was right. Dock workers are running around, shouting and helping people out of the old building the truck had crashed into. It's late at night, but not late enough for the place to be deserted; people are still at work, still trying to get by.

You wince as you watch a pregnant woman being led out of a crashed car by her husband, a gash on her head. The smell of gasoline and burning rubber fills the air, mixing with the acrid scent of smoke from the crashed truck.

"Killing shitty people is one thing," Deadpool tells you, and you hate the way his voice is almost earnest. His tone is different, more serious, a stark contrast to his usual unserious demeanour. "But I'm familiar with your no-witnesses rule. This would just be mass murder if I let you keep going. Not exactly my piece of cake. Just..."

He stops, letting his head hang for a moment as if he were too repulsed to say it. You can see his shoulders slump slightly, a rare show of genuine emotion. "Oh god, I can't believe I'm about to say this," he grumbles, "Four or five moments. That's all it takes. Just stop and think. It's all it takes to be a hero."

You grit your teeth, hating that Wade Wilson is your voice of reason. The biggest asshole in New York, and here he is lecturing you on morality.

Hairs are falling out of your braid and sticking to your forehead, yet you don't care. Sweat mixes with blood, creating a sticky mess on your skin. You can only glare at him. "You're the last fucking person who should be telling me how to be a hero."

Wade sighs, loud and obnoxious, his mask wrinkling around his eyes as he scrunches up his face. "I'm sorry I hit you with a car. You kinda deserved it after killing Trask. He was my last chance at becoming pretty again. Now I have to stalk another crazy scientist." He taps his chin thoughtfully, "I always figured I'd end up chasing a mad scientist again, but not under these circumstances."

It's when you can no longer hold yourself up with your arms that Wade takes in the gravity of your injuries. He winces, watching you crumble to the ground before him. "Oh, wow, that's a lot of blood," he notes, his voice suddenly devoid of humour. The sight of your blood pooling on the asphalt seems to pull him back to reality. "Should I take you to a hospital? How many fingers am I holding up?"

He doesn't give you a chance to answer.

"Three? No. Two? Yikes. It's worse than I thought." Wade stands, and the worry in his voice is poorly masked by his usual sarcasm. "Here we go. Up, up!" When he moves to pick you up, you start turning away, your body protesting every movement.

"Wade, wait—" you rasp, trying to stop him from touching you. Your voice is weak, barely above a whisper.

But it's too late. When he reaches for you, your body phases, a faint white glow surrounding you as his hands and arms fall through your body as if you're a ghost. He recoils, jumping back while a squeamish sound escapes his lips. He stares at you, then his hands, then back at you on the ground as you try to sit up again, confusion and amazement written all over his masked face.

"Oh. My. Motherfucking. Fuckballs." Wade gasped, eyes wide behind his mask. "Did my hand just go through you or is all that cocaine finally kicking in?"

You ignore him, holding onto your side as it throbs with pain. Every movement sends sharp, agonizing waves through your body. "Fuck."

"No way, you're a fucking mutant?" His tone is a mix of awe and excitement, like a kid discovering a new toy.

It's not like you kept it a secret. You used your abilities whenever you needed to, and sure, it was useful at times, especially in your line of work when you needed to get through locked doors and hidden rooms or just for the element of surprise. But it's draining. Leaves you winded after only a matter of seconds. You've always had a hard time controlling it when you're slightly delusional though. You must've hit your head really hard. Maybe that's why you haven't shot Deadpool, yet.

"Shut up, Wade."

"Hey, no need to be ashamed of it." He reassures you while trying to pick you up again. This time, he is more cautious, his movements slower and more deliberate. When he succeeds, you can tell he's grinning like a child underneath the mask.

He carries you back to the same fuckass car he hit you with, holding you with one arm under your knees, the other supporting your back. There's a faint skip to his step as if you're not on the verge of losing consciousness. While kicking open the back door, Wade continues his chatter, and you really wish he'd killed you on impact.

"Being a mutant is great! Plus, it's not the early two thousands anymore, or whatever timeline Stewart was in. Man, they sure did hate mutants in that trilogy."

He sets you down in the back seat gently, his hands surprisingly delicate. "You know, I always knew you were different. You hit me harder than regular people. I just figured you really hated me."

"I do." you mutter.

"Oh, my little sweet buns, I'm sure you do." To your annoyance, he pokes your nose playfully. "But you can't hate me too much right now, I'm literally your knight in shining armor. See, I can be nice, especially to my fellow mercs. You'd bleed to death if I left you there."

"Only because you hit me with a fucking car," you snap, the pain and frustration boiling over.

"Good to know you're still harboring great anger towards that. Means you're still conscious. Keep being mean to me, baby, that's how I'll know you're okay." He pauses before shutting the door, looking at you lying on the backseat, bleeding and all the glory that comes from it. "And it also turns me on a little bit. God, I can't believe your suit is torn and not one bit of extra cleavage is exposed. What will it take for a guy to get some rated R nudity over here?"

And with that, he slams the door shut, the car shaking with the force of it. The sound makes the ringing return to your ears, and you bite back the urge to curse him. He takes a seat in the driver's seat, starting the engine and rushing out of the scene before first responders arrive. The car roars to life, and as he speeds away, you feel your consciousness slipping, the pain and exhaustion overwhelming you.

The two of you sit in silence for the most part, only the sounds of the engine running and Wade humming the tune of a song you think is from The Greatest Showman soundtrack. You force yourself to stay awake. Mostly because you don't trust him, but it's also because you fear that if you let your eyes close you won't wake up again. Yeah, it's mostly because you don't trust Wade Wilson.

"Where are you taking me?" you finally ask, and you hate the way your voice sounds weak, barely above a whisper.

"Just a little safe house I know." He tells you, glancing back at you for a quick moment. "Very homey, trust me."

"What about the shipment?" you murmur, your mind struggling to stay focused.

"What?"

"The truck," you repeat, fighting to keep your eyes open.

"Oh, don't worry. That's no longer our problem." He says, "We're about to enter a whole new setting. That truck is forgotten plot."

Wade takes a sharp turn, and you wince as your body shifts uncomfortably in the back seat. The pain is getting worse, each bump in the road sending jolts of agony through your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stay conscious, but it's a losing battle.

After what feels like an eternity, the car finally comes to a stop. Wade gets out and you hear his footsteps crunching on gravel as he walks around to your door. He opens it carefully this time, his usual wiseass demeanour replaced by a rare show of genuine concern. He scoops you up gently, and you're too weak to protest.

The last thing you remember, before everything goes black, is the sight of a grand mansion looming ahead, its imposing silhouette framed by the moonlight. The large iron gates creak open as Wade carries you through them, the gravel path crunching under his boots. The mansion, with its towering spires and Gothic architecture, looks like something out of a fairy tale, a stark contrast to the violence and chaos you just escaped from.

When you wake up, the first thing you notice is the softness of the bed beneath you. The second thing you notice is the smell of lavender and the faint hum of medical equipment. You try to sit up, but a sharp pain in your side makes you gasp.

"Whoa, easy there," a deep, accented voice says from beside you. You turn your head slowly, the motion making your vision swim. A towering, metal-skinned mutant sits by your bed, his imposing figure softened by a look of genuine concern. "You need to rest. You are badly injured."

Your throat feels like sandpaper as you rasp, "Where am I?"

"The X-Mansion," he replies in a soothing tone, the accent heavy but comforting. "Wade brought you here. You’re safe now. I am Colossus."

You try to take in your surroundings, your head feeling heavy as you look around. The room is vast and elegant, with high ceilings that seem to reach the heavens. The walls are adorned with rich tapestries and framed paintings, depicting serene landscapes and grand historical scenes.

Large windows let in the soft, golden glow of morning light, casting gentle shadows that dance across the floor. It’s a far cry from the dingy, rundown places you’re used to, especially that old apartment with its creaky floors and peeling wallpaper.

Your eyes finally land on Wade, who is slouched in a chair in the corner. He’s flipping through a Playboy magazine with exaggerated interest, still in his dirty suit from the night before.

When he sees you stir, he grins and waves a hand in your direction. "Morning, sunshine," he says cheerfully, his voice carrying an unnerving mix of sincerity and teasing. "You gave us quite a scare. But, I've got to say, that hospital gown is doing wonders for your figure. I love the blue. Great contrast to that black you're always wearing."

You roll your eyes, too exhausted to respond properly. The gown feels scratchy against your skin, and every movement sends sharp pangs of pain through your body.

Colossus, noticing your discomfort, shifts slightly. "How are you feeling?" he asks, his voice deep and steady.

"Like I got hit by a truck," you mutter, sending a glare in Wade's direction.

Colossus chuckles, the sound deep and resonant, like rolling thunder. "Do not worry about him. We will take care of you."

Despite the throbbing pain and overwhelming fatigue, a wave of relief washes over you. For the first time in a long while, you're surrounded by people who genuinely want to help. You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the softness of the bed. "Thank you," you whisper, the words feeling strangely comforting. For once, you don’t feel the need to be constantly on guard.

Wade's grin widens as he leans back in his chair, stretching his legs out and adjusting his mask. "Anytime, honeybuns. Anytime."

As you drift in and out of consciousness, you feel the cool, soothing touch of a wet cloth on your forehead. The gentle pressure is a welcome contrast to the persistent throbbing pain.

The sound of soft murmurs and quiet footsteps fills the room, creating a cocoon of calm around you. At some point, you notice Colossus's massive hands, surprisingly gentle, as he carefully tends to your wounds, applying bandages with precision.

Eventually, a teenager with short hair and a no-nonsense expression enters the room. You learn her name is Negasonic Teenage Warhead. She carries a phone in one hand, handing Colossus a stack of clean bandages with the other. The faint scent of antiseptic and medicinal herbs fills the air, mixing with the crispness of the freshly laundered bed linens.

Hours pass, or maybe it's days—it's difficult to gauge. When you next wake, the room is dimly lit, the golden light replaced by the softer hues of early evening. The pain has dulled to a manageable throb, and the heaviness in your limbs is slightly alleviated. Wade is still there, his previous outfit swapped for sweatpants and a dark green sweater, though he keeps his red and black mask on. He lounges in the chair beside your bed, now engrossed in an iPad, giggling softly to himself.

"Oh, man. Instagram reels are crazy," he snorts, shaking his head as he scrolls through the screen.

He looks up and hums when he sees you're awake again. "You're tougher than you look," he comments, turning off the iPad with a flick of his wrist. "Most people would have keeled over by now."

"You wish."

"Oh, trust me, I do." Wade nods vigorously, his mask bobbing with the motion. "I tried injecting poison into your IV, but your body rejected it."

"Don't worry. My handler will kill me for you."

Wade groans, dramatically rolling his eyes as he gets up from the chair. "You’re still worried about that? I already told you, the truck and all that shit is past plot. We’re in the sequel now, babe. There are new rules. Who knows, maybe this is your redemption arc where you join the X-Men. Though, I will miss your assassin era. You were so sexy in that suit."

You make a face, "Fuck off."

Just then, the door opens with a soft creak, and Colossus enters with a tray in hand. He’s followed closely by Negasonic, who carries a stack of fresh bandages. Colossus places the tray on a small table beside your bed with practiced ease. The tray is filled with a bowl of steaming soup and a couple of slices of crusty bread, the aroma wafting up and making your stomach rumble.

"How are you feeling?" Colossus asks, his voice calm and reassuring as he sets the tray down.

"Better," you admit, managing a small smile. "Thanks to you guys."

Negasonic shrugs nonchalantly, a small smile tugging at her lips despite her usual scowl. "Don’t mention it. Just doing our job."

Wade groans, clearly troubled by the kindness. "Oh great, now you’re all buddy-buddy. What am I, chopped liver?"

Colossus chuckles, the sound of a comforting rumble. "You must eat something. It will help you regain your strength."

You nod gratefully, and with Colossus’s help, you manage to sit up enough to sip the warm, comforting soup. The broth is rich and flavorful, and the bread is soft and fresh. As you eat, you can’t help but feel a strange sense of belonging. Despite the pain and the chaos, you’re surrounded by people who care, and for now, that’s enough.

Wade, not one to be left out, scoots his chair closer, setting it right next to your bed. He stretches out, propping his elbows on his knees as he leans in. "So, what do you think of the X-Mansion? Pretty swanky, right? Lots of rooms, big kitchen, danger room for training... and other things."

Negasonic scoffs, her eyes narrowing. "Gross."

You finish your meal, feeling a bit stronger. As Colossus helps you settle back into the bed, you glance at Wade. "Why did you bring me here?"

Wade’s expression shifts, becoming uncharacteristically serious. He looks at you with sincerity. "Because you’re one of us. And because... well, everyone deserves a second chance."

You blink, surprised by the depth of his words. Before you can respond, he’s back to his usual self, grinning and turning on his iPad. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to play hero. I gotta milk it for all it’s worth. And no, Colossus, I will not join your boy band, thank you very much."

The metal man grunts, waving a hand dismissively before walking out, Negasonic following right behind him. Wade stays seated next to you, his lips curled into a wide, amused grin that seems to stretch just a bit too far was he watches you.

"You're never gonna take that off?" you ask him.

Wade's laughter is a low, rumbling sound that feels almost too bright for the quiet room. "Oh, no fucking way," he says, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I wasn’t kidding when I said I’m ugly under this. Trust me. You’d be repulsed. Like, horror movie-level repulsed."

You give him a look, your eyebrow arched in disbelief. "I doubt it."

Wade leans in closer, the grin on his face widening. He taps his chin thoughtfully with a gloved finger, the gesture oddly contemplative. "Maybe next time I’ll take it off for you," he says, a taunting tone in his voice as he raises his brows. "Maybe that and a little more."

"There's a next time?"

"I mean, as the famous words of Natasha Bedingfield say: the rest is still underwritten."

"God, you’re fucking ridiculous," you mutter, the words coming out with a mix of exasperation and reluctant amusement. "I can’t wait to get out of here and never see you again."

Wade's shoulders slump, the white eyes of his mask narrow at you, "What, that's it? No steamy sex? No heavy petting? Is this how it ends? Not even a kiss?"

"Fuck no. Get out."

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reiderwriter · 1 year

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Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC.

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future.

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field.

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe).

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.”

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all.

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat.

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab.

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?”

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly.

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder.

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes.

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things.

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused.

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen.

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general.

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies.

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face.

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day.

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way.

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips. When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping his bag a little tighter to him.

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.”

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?”

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away.

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk.

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.”

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent.

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable.

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional.

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence.

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading.

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time.

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.” He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him.

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply.

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away.

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could.

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond.

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?”

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space.

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen.

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you.

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office.

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt.

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat.

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention.

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same.

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer.

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.”

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line?

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you.

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before.

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face.

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again.

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist, and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now.

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat.

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed.

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?”

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind.

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day.

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?” You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him.

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands. Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands.

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night.

-X-

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #Criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal minds fic #Spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x oc #Spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #Criminal minds smut #maturereiding

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luvyeni · 2 months

Text

THEY PUNISH YOU 𖹭 엔하이픈 ( reaction ) !

genre yandere 𖹭 warning — parings enhypen x fem reader | back to library .

request. hear me out.. enhypen!yandere punishments could you make them lowkey crazy.

「 authors note 𖹭 」 this is probably the darkest thing i've written , if this isn't something that makes you uncomfortable please don't read.

﹙ 𐙚 : heeseung﹚ .ᐟ

heeseung will punish you by fucking with you mentally , you try to leave? go ahead, he'll let you leave , but not without consequences. see on the outside to everyone else heeseung is very influential , he gets around, and I mean to everyone , your friends , family hell even your teachers or employers , he completely isolates you from everyone , so with no friends, family or work , no where to go— you come back to him basically on your knees begging for him to take you back , which he does with a smirk on his face.

"everyone hates you now , so you come back to me, that's okay baby I'm all you have , remember that next time you leave."

﹙ 𐙚 : jay﹚ .ᐟ

jay doesn't have time for your bullshit; he'll tie you up and leave you in your room and go about his day , you're there to make him look perfect and if you aren't perfect, then he really doesn't have any use for you. he won't be bothered with you at all , he'd make sure the maid fed you and gave you water , but that's it , he wanted nothing to do with you until he felt like it was necessary , when he needed you to look perfect. he'd come back with a pretty dress in his arms , throwing it on the bed , telling you to get dressed.

"you're to clean up this act for tonight , if you don't embarrass me then I'll consider letting you out of your room."

﹙ 𐙚 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

jake would never hit you; no he would never hurt you , he'd hurt himself and force you to listen because he knew that would mess you up more than anything he could ever do to you. "jake open the door!" you slammed on the bathroom door , you tried to leave and jake caught you , grabbing a knife from the kitchen , running into the bathroom before you could even do anything. "get away , this is your fault." he screamed back. "you have to learn once you go i go , you hate me anyway just leave let me do it." you begged the boy to get out. "please come out , please." you tugged at your head. "please im sorry i won't leave." as soon as he heard that he opened the door , blood dripping down his arms. "jake." you held his arms in tears. "you won't leave right?"

"if you leave i'll do it again and it will all be your fault."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunghoon﹚ .ᐟ

sunghoon scares you, so normally all he has to do is give you a look and you're apologizing to him , begging him to forgive you. but let's say it's in the early stages , before he broke you in , you try and leave and the look on his face send shivers down your spine , before you could apologize , his hand was already going across your face , dragging you by your hair to your room , your screaming doesn't phase him as he tosses you around on the bed locking you up.

"you'll fucking learn , unless you want to end up like this again."

﹙ 𐙚 : sunoo﹚ .ᐟ

sunoo isn't another one who wouldn't hit you . the thing about sunoo is he is able to easily manipulate you, your brain is already screwed up into thinking what he's doing to you is okay , like you're his girlfriend and he loves you— so that's what he uses as punishment , he gets you by withholding it from you; his love. he ignores you, pretends like you're not even there , it hurts him but it drives you mad , until you're sobbing for him. "pl-please sunoo." you sobbed as he walked past him , completely ignoring you. "whatever i did i'm sorry please forgive me." he smiles , leaning down to where you were on your knees. "does that hurt baby?" he asked.

"good now you know how it feels when you hurt me."

﹙ 𐙚 : jungwon﹚ .ᐟ

whatever you did; he'll let it go, he'd pretend like it never happened, until he doesn't. the thing about jungwon is he loves psychological torture much like heeseung, so he'll continue on like normal , like hasn't already planned for this , boarding up the windows , soundproofing the walls so no noise came in and no noise came out , and when he feels like the time is right , he'll snatch you from whatever you're doing and throw you into the dark soundless room with nothing but padding for a bed. you'll beg and plead with him to explain what did — but he just doesn't , he'll leave you like that until he sees fit. the only time you see him or the light is when he slides food through the little door he made, and when you beg him he just laughs and mutters one thing before shutting it.

"you don't remember baby , that's too bad I was gonna let you out had you acknowledged what you did."

﹙ 𐙚 : ni-ki﹚ .ᐟ

ni-ki is all of them combined; but unlike sunghoon or jay , ni-ki enjoys inflicting pain on you; twisting your arm , making you scream in pain , that makes him smile a bit , so he's looking for anything you do that he hates so that he can punish you. you talk back? that's a tug on your hair. you don't reciprocate his love? that's a twist of your wrist. god forbid you try to leave , the last time that happened you were left with a broken arm and a smiling ni-ki every time you whimpered in pain , he'd just laugh at you telling you to do something else , maybe lift something, he'll know you'll drop it , it gives him another reason to hit you.

"you just don't listen do you? come here."

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awrkive · 29 days

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NEIGHBOR BLUNDER, pt. 3 — JJK

in hindsight, you should have seen it coming. had always known your luck – or lack of it, thereof – and the universe's meticulous plan of your downfall made it easy for you to get tangled up in a series of unfortunate events, which presents itself as the neighbor that lives across from you, jeon jungkook.

PAIRING jungkook x (fem) reader

GENRE r18+ (fluff, angst, smut) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

CHAPTER WORD COUNT 18.7k

CHAPTER WARNINGS/MISC neighbor!jk, bsf!jimin, accountant!oc software engineer!jk, jk and jimin are chaebols lol, minjoon boyfriends <<<<3, mature language, lots of screaming into your pillow moments, litol bit of #domesticity, FLUFFY FLUFF FLUFFFFFFFFFFFFF, angst if you squint??????????, the x file spoiler lol, suits cameo (me inserting my niche interests into conversations), the biggest warning of this part is: naked jungkook 💀

NOTES sorry for being almost 3 hours late efhkjdhfd i overestimated my abilities a bit mb mb anyway, AGAIN, i want to thank you guys for the overwhelming support! i want to take this opportunity to announce that i'll be taking a break from nb for around 2 weeks to work on my new jungkook one-shot fic that i will be posting for his birthday ❤️ if you are interested, i have posted the teaser on my tumblr page. LASTLY pls let me know your thoughts!! i LOVE LOOOVEEE reading every single one of your replies/reblogs/asks. i hope you enjoy this one and have a good weekend ahead!!!!!!

NB!JK VISUALS | TAGLIST OPEN (REPLY IN THE COMMENT SECTION. PLS DO NOT SEND AN ASK ABOUT IT)

READ ON WATTPAD | AO3

PART ONE | TWO | THREE

You always wonder how a company this big seems to not have any budget lent for a copier that actually works – something that one doesn’t need to violently slap just for it to function perfectly.

You’ve been a victim not just once but five times to its inefficiency, the recent mishap being a month ago when the ink blots jumped right over the cuff of your shirt.

With the way that you’ve been harassing the copier at the very moment, you’ll say it’s about to do you wrong for the sixth time and you absolutely can’t let it happen anymore – not when you’re currently wearing a white polo shirt that stupidly costs a little too much more than anything in your wardrobe (you decided to spend a little more than usual last New Year’s).

So, with a last unnecessary kick to the bottom of the machine (out of pure spite) you left the copier room of your floor and think, fuck it – go to the IT department and ask Taemu to back you up from his supervisor so you can use their copier instead – which is something you’re not so sure of.

It’s embarrassing to go there just to ask him for help. Not with your history. But admittedly not that much of a history. After all, he seems to be cool with you and everything seems to be pretty chill. You can just go there; ask a little favor from a friend, and then hurry down to your floor.

There are some other options, though. Like, you can always ask the intern to do it for you. But the thing is, you kind of feel bad for those three. Your co-workers are doing a lot already; asking to fetch them things all around the building, buy them snacks, stuff like that. There’s another one but she’s way too quiet and didn’t really take shit from any of her seniors… which is kind of intimidating – but she's someone you wish you were when you were also an intern. You personally don’t want to help cultivate a somewhat toxic journey for the other three because you also started the same way as them. Beyond that, it would also be too rude to ask favors from Taemu indirectly.

You’re ultimately left with little and only one choice.

The elevator dings and the doors open after it does so.

One of the people in it is a woman you’ve never met around before. Long, black hair; tailored suit, slender figure, and a posture that screams she’s never hunched her back in her entire life.

Other people that entered at the same time as you start to bow their heads down slightly and greet a polite, “Good afternoon.”

You mirror their gesture as well.

As you step inside and settle on a spot, you wonder who she is.

An executive, maybe? She looks very put-together, and there’s authority that hangs over her frame… but exceptionally young in the physical aspect. Jungkook is also young, though – and he’s an executive, so that’s entirely possible. Additionally, others seem to know her. Or they're just pretending to know her like you did. Did you miss a ceremony? A meeting? Or did you gloss over some HR email again? You’ll have to check later to find out if that’s the case.

Anyway, your curiosity doesn’t last long when the elevator doors open once again, indicating the IT department floor.

You already texted Taemu awhile ago that you were on your way so he should meet you on-time.

As you walk down the hallway with your phone in your hand, your attention is caught by a familiar voice.

“Hey,”

You look up from your phone and see Taemu waving not too far away, heading towards your direction. It doesn’t take him long to get near you. When he does, you give him a smile.

“Taemu, hi.” You say as a small greeting. Taemu lifts his hand and you thought he was going for a high-five, so you lift your hand as well to meet the gesture. But then he leans in closer, one arm about to enclose your waist, and that’s when you realize he was actually gearing up for a hug.

Taemu seems to register that you weren’t exactly going for the same thing, so he steps back. He seems shy when you look at him in confusion.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” He offers his hand again, but just when you’re already thinking about hugging him because that was what he originally meant to do, he speaks just as you lean in closer to hug him. “I thought we were high-five-ing?”

Embarrassed, your hands retreat to yourself.

“I thought... you wanted to hug?” You chuckle.

“Okay, let’s just—” Taemu steps closer again and this time, it’s more than clear to you what he wants to do.

You reciprocate the hug he gives.

“This is so stupid.” You say, chuckling against his neck. The contact is quick as you two simultaneously break apart.

Taemu laughs at your remark, nodding his head. Then he gestures ahead, pointing to the direction of the copy room.

“Your copier not working again?” He asks as you walk down the hallway together.

You heave a sigh. “Yeah, they really need to change that one. Anyway, have you told Mr. Lee?” You ask, referring to his supervisor.

Teamu nods his head, opening the door to the copy room for you.

“Yeah, it’s fine with him. Just sign the logbook and stuff.”

“Thanks, Taemu.” You say, quickly getting to work, feeling slightly delighted at how their machine smoothly does its job and not like the one at all in your department. “Hey, I’m really sorry for bothering you with this.” You lament as you wait for the paper to slide out.

Taemu waves his hand, shaking his head at you. “It’s fine.”

You purse your lips into a thin line, giving him a somewhat apprehensive smile. The paper comes out and you get your thing. After a quick scan to see if the copier got everything right, you look back at Taemu to say, “Thanks again, Taemu. I really appreciate this.”

“No worries. Anytime.”

When you announce that you’re done, Taemu calls your name.

“Hm?” You hum, looking at him and wait for his next words.

He looks coy when he rubs a hand on the back of his head.

“Can I take you out for lunch?” He says, and you still in your position. Taemu seems like he surprised himself with his own words. You open your mouth to speak but then he beats you to it quickly, “It’s not a date. I phrased that as a date – but it’s not – ah, this is all coming out wrong,” Taemu chuckles, interrupting himself. With his hands in his slacks' pockets, he leans to a random table inside the room and looks at you with a more confident stance this time, as if he just gave himself a quick internal pep talk after jumbling his words. “What I meant to say is, if we can go out for lunch together today?”

You chuckle. You were just about to say yes. Contrary to his assumption, you didn’t really take his first question as an invitation for a date. Besides, he helped you with the copier today.

Nodding your head, you offer him a grin as you say, “Yeah. I’ll go to lunch with you.”

Taemu walks you to the elevator even though you said he doesn’t need to. He's insistent but you let it, anyway.

Taemu puts his hands on both sides of the door before it closes. The ride is pretty much empty except for yourself.

“When are you off?” He asks.

You think about it for a moment. “Is 12:15 okay?”

Taemu nods. “Sure. See you at 12:15?”

“Yeah. Later.”

The elevator closes and you laugh to yourself when you catch Taemu awkwardly waving his hand at you goodbye.

“No, you didn’t, I kicked your ass at mini golf!” You say, laughing as Taemu looks at you with squinted eyes, obviously saying that was absolutely not what happened on your date a few months ago.

“Uh, you disregarded all the rules.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, fine. Rules do not matter, though. It’s just some stick and a ball and… fake grass.”

Taemu laughs, surrendering his hands to the air, nodding when he says, “Fair, fair.”

You’re currently at a restaurant not too far away from your company building. It took Taemu and you about five minutes to get here; just a quick waiting time to cross the pedestrian lane to get from one street to the other.

Looking around, you can actually see some people inside wearing your company lace. The restaurant’s sort of like a famous spot around the company, though, so it doesn't necessarily surprise you. You’ve also had a few company dinners here some time ago.

Safe to say, lunch with Taemu is going… okay so far.

No – actually, it’s way better than you thought it would be.

You could have never, ever predicted that you’ll be out with him alone again after… you know, ghosting him. Your whole assessment of his character has also changed a bit after the whole fiasco.

See, some guys start feeling entitled over your permission and consent when you entertain them even just for a bit. When you go on dates and you break it to them that it’s just not working out between you two, they start to act weird. Like you’ve hurt them. Or that you lead them on – even though it’s absolutely not the case.

But Taemu’s proving himself to be different. You honestly expected him to act like that guy because he seems the type after your first date. But he surprises you by acting the total, complete opposite.

He’s so… nice. So casual. Like nothing happened. You feel bad because right now, you've officially confirmed to yourself that you totally misjudged him.

You can’t believe you’ll say this, but Taemu is not an asshole. Like at all.

Even now, you’re recalling what happened to your date and laughing about some of the memories of it, and it feels so long ago you’re starting to remember it differently.

“Anyway, this milkshake’s really good,” you say, taking your glass and looking at it curiously.

“Yeah? I told you,” Taemu grins, eating from his own plate.

“You always come here?” You ask out of curiosity since he seems to be familiar with the menu.

“Sort of? I mean, I try to take in the city as much as I can.” You nod, recalling what he told you before. He came from Daegu, and it’s his first time in Seoul.

Before you can say anything to that, the waiter comes to your table and gives you your bill.

Taemu and you simultaneously take out your wallets. When he sees you do it, though, he’s quick to shake his head, gesturing for you to not bother.

“No, no, it’s fine. I got it.”

“I got it, too,” You say, smiling at him, already picking out your card, ready to put it inside the check presenter.

“__,” Taemu says your name while chuckling. “I swear, it’s fine. I was the one who invited you for lunch.”

“Taemu,” You call him, using the same tone he used. Taemu grins at that. “I think we should split the bill.”

It’s only fair, you think. You ate pretty much the same thing.

You hold what felt like a minute staring competition until Taemu gives in and lets you stack your card on top of his in the booklet.

You’re about to resume eating – pick up on the conversation you left a few minutes ago – when your phone dings on the table, a message popping out on the notification center.

When you read the contact name, your eyes widen but you relax your face real quick lest Taemu asks questions.

“Sorry,” you say, pointing to your phone. Taemu nods, understanding. You pick the device in your hands, turn to your other side to not be rude, and read the text from Jungkook.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:47pm]: hey I bought you lunch Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:48pm]: i was gonnna ask you to go with me earlier but I got busy with some papers

Shoot.

You’ve done a pretty good job of not thinking about Jungkook at all for the entirety of the day. You woke up so early this morning that you waited for twenty whole minutes for your bus just so you can avoid seeing Jungkook because everytime his name pops up in your thoughts, you remember what you did the night before and it just messes with your head so much.

Listen, you aren’t embarrassed about trying to get yourself off. It’s just masturbation. It’s a carnal need and it’s totally normal. What you are not proud of is the way you thought about him – out of all people – and how it actually made you feel… a little more motivated to get yourself there.

But it’s a slip-up. A big mistake.

How are you supposed to look him in the eyes after that and act like you didn’t do what you did? Granted, you did stop before it escalated. But still, the point is that you thought about him while you were pleasuring yourself. Even if it was for a tiny bit second, it still counts!

Stupid fucking ovulation, you think to yourself with bitterness. You’re a much better person without it, you swear. You don’t go around thinking about men when you try to get yourself off, not at all! Personally, your head is mostly blank when you go through it.

But Jungkook left two texts. And he’s probably seen the read tag on his end already.

You [12:49pm]: I just got lunch ): thank you for buying me one tho that’s really nice ofu

You turn your phone off after sending your reply, placing it on the empty space of your table. When you look at Taemu, he’s eyeing something behind you. With furrowed brows, the question about what he’s looking at is on the tip of your tongue when he suddenly says,

“Isn’t that Mr. Jeon?”

“W-what?” You stammer, not sure if you heard him right.

The knots on Taemu’s forehead fades, and then he nods to himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s Mr. Jeon. He’s going this way.”

“Wha—”

“Good afternoon, Mr. Jeon.” Taemu stands up from his seat and does a slight bow for greeting.

Without thinking about it, you mirror Taemu’s action, bowing your head longer than necessary.

“Good afternoon, M-mr. Jeon,”

It’s no use to avoid his gaze, though.

When you look at Jungkook, he seems pretty much just as surprised to see you. You look away, but your eyes fall to his hand, and you see that it carries a take-out paper bag from the restaurant. You think about his text.

“Good afternoon.” Jungkook says with an easy-going smile. He goes from surprised to casual real quick and glosses over you as if he doesn’t know you.

You don’t really know how that makes you feel.

“I was just going, have fun with your lunch.” He says and politely bids his goodbye, going straight to the direction of the restaurant’s door.

“He’s really cool, you know?” Taemu brings up when you both sit down again.

“I— huh?”

“You must have heard about the new project they’re starting at the end of this month, right?” He asks curiously.

You sit there stunned. Stunned from earlier’s interaction with Jungkook but also because you don’t really know what the hell Taemu’s talking about.

“No… I didn’t get any memo…?” You say instead, trying not to act way too oblivious lest he thinks you’re lazy or something. Not that it matters! You’re not trying to impress him or anything.

Taemu nods. “Well, you’ll probably know about it soon.”

But your head's too far gone now, still stuck on what happened a minute ago.

You look over at your phone while Taemu speaks, hoping for it to light up with a new notification from the messaging app.

A few minutes passed by and it doesn’t, even when you leave the restaurant.

You don’t really know why you’re here.

It’s been three days since that night in Jungkook’s place where you tried to bake in his kitchen, so it’s also been three days since you started practicing during the nights after work to perfect your cookies. Tonight, it just so happens that the cookies finally taste edible and honestly, it’s more than okay.

So, maybe that’s why you find yourself in front of Jungkook’s door with a plastic container in your hands, decently-baked cookies prettily arranged inside.

Jungkook was with you when you made those pathetic excuses for cookies, so you thought it’s only fair for him to try these ones and tell you what he thinks. Brag a little. Maybe have a little chitchat if he’s free or whatever.

It’s also… sort of like a peace offering for something he doesn’t need to know about. You can’t tell him you’re sorry for thinking about him when you did the deed because that’s just plain weird.

Speaking of weird, though, the interaction from yesterday left you feeling a little empty. There’s this gnawing feeling inside of you that something went wrong – but you can’t exactly point out why. Jungkook also hasn’t texted you after that – which isn’t out of the ordinary. You don’t text everyday and you don’t meet every single day, either – for the record. You’re both busy people. You can only imagine Jungkook’s schedule.

Anyway, if there’s anything that you learned about your friendship with Jungkook, it’s that you don’t need to lie to him. You just have to knock on his door and he’ll unintentionally clear your doubts by being the voice of reason because he’s nice like that.

You do hope though that tonight clears any weird air between you. Maybe you’ll find out later on that there’s nothing weird going on at all and you’re just overthinking stuff as usual.

You’re about to ring the doorbell twice when the door finally opens, showing you Jungkook still wearing his polo shirt. He looks like he’s just gotten home from work, red tie undone around his neckline and a few buttons popped open.

“Hi.” You smile.

“Hey,” Jungkook looks at you, obviously wondering what brought you to his door.

“I wanted to give you this,” you hand him the plastic container which he takes with a confused look. “Those are cookies. I baked them. I didn’t give you anything when I baked two nights ago because they were bad.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods, looking down at the plastic. He smiles, then leans on his doorway. “So it’s good now?”

You gesture a so-so with your hand. “Don’t set your expectations too high. It’s not exactly Poilâne. But it tastes like matcha cookies, I swear.” When Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a while, you decide to add, “You also won’t get food poisoning, if you’re worried about that.”

Jungkook gives you an amused look. “I wasn’t… worried about that.”

“It’s a simple disclaimer. Just in case, you know, you suddenly feel weird in the stomach…” Jungkook arches his brow while you trail off. You roll your eyes lightheartedly. “I’m kidding.”

He lets out a chuckle and then stands upright. “Thank you for this.”

“No worries,” you say. You shift your weight from one foot to another. “Uh, do you wanna grab dinner? Right now?”

Jungkook looks at you apologetically.

“I really wish we could, but I have to finish something tonight. Work stuff.”

“Oh,” You nod immediately. “Okay. Uhm, good luck with that.”

He smiles at you. Lifting the container up, he arches his brows, saying, “Thank you, again. It looks good.”

“Yeah, I hope you like it,” You say. Realizing that there’s nothing more left to say, you turn on your heel ready to go. But before that, you look back at him one last time. “Bye.”

Jungkook grins.

“I’ll text you what I think about them.” He says, pointing to the cookies.

“Okay, Anton Ego.”

You both laugh at that, and you enter your apartment with a small smile on your face.

You don’t want to admit it even to yourself, but you might have taken Jungkook’s words about reviewing your baked goods too seriously that you waited for it last night longer than necessary. Even when the night ended and you go to work the next day, which is today, none of his texts come, and you don’t think anything’s coming anytime soon.

You try not to think about it too much because he did say he’s busy with work. You’re sure that’s the case, so you feel slightly bad for him.

Right now, you’re looking for Ms. Seo to get her signature on a document. So you head to the elevator, rushing a bit to get inside the one that’s about to close. It’s a little urgent, so you cannot waste any more time.

As soon as you enter though, you notice who’s in it.

It’s Jungkook and the woman you saw in the elevator two days ago.

You’re starting to think you need to start using the stairs from now on because your elevator trips are getting too ridiculous.

It feels like you’re running on auto-pilot when you greet them both, walking to the side to make space for the other people entering.

You wish you went beside the woman instead and not Jungkook’s side because you then have to try real hard not to look at him.

It proves to be an uneasy task when more people squeeze in as the elevator takes a few stops in between floors. You had to taut all the muscles in your body just to not get into any contact with Jungkook, but even with all the effort, it goes unsuccessful, as you brush his arm when you step back to move a little.

Jungkook looks at you the same time you do.

“I’m sorry.” You utter, low enough to not cause any unnecessary attention.

A few do turn to stare, anyway. And you can’t help but notice the way the woman’s hand moves towards Jungkook’s to hold it as she takes a look at you.

Jungkook, meanwhile, gives you that same professional smile he seems to have reserved for every employee that greets him around the building, warm voice saying, “It’s okay.”

You’re thankful that the next floor is where your stop is.

As you go back to your cubicle, you wonder who the woman is. Again.

There's something about her that feels familiar. She looks familiar. Like you’ve seen her before. You can’t just figure out where exactly.

“__,” Sol calls beside you.

“Huh?”

“You’re not having lunch?” She asks.

“Oh…” Right. It’s currently your break time. “Are you guys going out?” You say, looking at Joonhwi who’s two cubicles away from you.

Sol shakes her head, taking her coat from the back of her chair. “No, just at the cafeteria.”

You nod your head. “Okay, I’ll follow in a few minutes, just need to look over some stuff here,” You point to your computer.

“Okay. Just text me.”

You give Sol a smile and watch as she and Joonhwi head out of the office.

Your gaze falls to the time on your computer.

12:10pm.

Is Jungkook possibly having lunch right now? You remember him buying you one two days ago and feel a little sense of regret about not taking it even though it isn’t your fault and he should’ve told you first to give you a little heads-up.

You never really talked about it. You never really talked for the past three days.

But then again, he seems to be busy.

With a little hope in your heart, though, you pick up your phone and decide to send him a text.

You [12:12pm]: hey do u want to go out for lunch?

Or should you just buy him one like he did for you? It’s not like you’re trying to up him in a kindness competition. It can just be a small, thoughtful gesture from a friend to a friend.

You receive a reply a few seconds after.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: hey __ I’d love to

Your lips curl down when you read the next one that comes in a second.

Jungkook (Unit 446) [12:13pm]: but I have a work meeting in 5mins

Oh. Okay. That tracks.

You [12:14pm]: okii!! That’s totally cool! good luck with work 😊

You stand up from your chair and take out your wallet from your bag, going out of your office and sending a quick text to Sol that you’re coming to the cafeteria.

When you get there, your peripheral vision catches a familiar figure.

You look back, trying to see if it’s someone you know.

Turns out it is. Because it’s Jungkook.

You’ve seen him in the elevator this morning and he wore a grey pair of suit. You’d also recognize his stature anywhere, but just like how it was inside the elevator, he’s with the woman again; long hair down like it was yesterday, this time adorning a suit dress that hugs her figure really well, her stilettos making her legs look longer but somehow Jungkook still stands a little taller.

For the very brief moment that you laid your eyes on them, you saw how Jungkook had his hand placed on the low of her back, how she laughed at something he said, and how they looked good together from your point of view. It seemed like they were on their way somewhere.

You realize that was what Jungkook meant when he said he’s busy.

They say a silver lining comes in every worst situation possible, and you’re more of an optimist rather than a pessimist so usually, you believe in the concept of silver linings even though right now – it looks like it’s going to be winning the jackpot in the lottery or… free education for everybody across the world.

“The contractor estimates it would be a week-long repair.”

“One week?” Is your immediate response, disbelief coloring your tone. “I’m sorry—” You try to fix your tone, salvaging yourself from being seen as outright rude in front of your building manager. “You mean seven whole days?”

The building manager, Mr. Han, nods his head. He looks genuinely apologetic as he delivers the news, for the record.

“That’s… really long.” You say, albeit calmer now. But you still can’t imagine it.

“It’s just an estimate. Contractor said it might be faster than that, but they still need to do a full assessment of your unit tomorrow, together with the water damage restoration company. We’re doing all we can to respond to the situation. We’re also talking to your upstairs neighbor about the stipulation of his negligence.”

You nod along to his words.

Obviously, it’s his job to ensure everything’s taken care of, but still, you’re appreciative of the way they are going about the current situation. You’ve heard horror stories about tenants getting into arguments with their building managers or landlords when their apartments experience accidents.

“Can I ask about relocation?” You ask. You have to read your lease again to make sure.

“Unfortunately, it’s not indicated in your lease policy, but your renter’s insurance should cover it. You can also talk to your landlord about reducing your rent for this month due to the inconvenience.”

You nod, giving him a small smile. “Okay. Thank you.”

The plumber and some of the help the building manager employed to dry up your place from the accidental flood had already left a while ago, and soon, Mr. Han’s figure disappears entirely after a few seconds as you watch him walk down the flight of stairs and away from the building.

You can hear the loud whirring of the air movers placed inside your unit from where you stood on your porch. Your hair’s damp, including some spots on your work clothes from the water that trickled down your ceiling as you panicked earlier to pack some of your belongings in a medium-sized luggage you managed to grab in the timeframe.

It’s the state that Jungkook catches you in when you see him emerging from the stairs, looking like he also just got back from work.

“Hey, what happened?” Jungkook, with his brows furrowed, looks at you with worried eyes, sounding equally concerned.

You sigh. “Hey,” you greet weakly. “My apartment got flooded.”

“What?”

“It’s the upstairs neighbor. He apparently left his tub running while he went to work this afternoon,” You take a sharp breath, getting pissed again at the negligence. So goddamn stupid, really. “He flooded his own place and the water leaked to my ceiling, and when I got back home from work I was welcomed with two inches of water on my floor.”

“What the hell?” Jungkook says in disbelief. You nod at his reaction. That is exactly what you said when you heard the story from the property manager. “Are you okay?” He asks, and you appreciate it.

“Not sure about that.” You answer honestly.

Jungkook furrows his brows. “You called your landlord immediately?”

Letting out a sigh again, you nod and move to sit on your suitcase – the lonesome bag that you’re planning to bring with you to wherever the hell you’re going to stay tonight. You don’t even think you have enough clothes in it.

“My place is a complete wreck. Most of the water’s drained, though, and the building manager brought some help inside and they put air movers inside to dry the place right now.” You blow air to the strand of hair that escapes from your ponytail out of frustration. “It’s a shitshow, I know.”

“Good that they responded fast,” Jungkook comments, but concern is still etched on his face as he asks you, “Have you called your insurance company yet?”

“Yeah, we’re emailing right now.” You tell him, showing your phone. You hate sending email through such a small device but you left your laptop back at the office – which is kind of a good thing, now that you think about it – because it would’ve gotten flooded had you left it in your place.

“Did you document everything?”

Your response comes in a little curt.

“Yes, Jungkook. I did.” The onslaught questions just somehow seemed to prompt irritation in you, and you can’t help but add, “I know everything I have to do. I’m an adult.”

Predictably, you render Jungkook surprised.

“I— I didn’t mean it like that. I apologize.”

When you look up at him, you see his expression softening – and you feel bad for what you just did.

Chill, __. He’s just asking logical questions.

“No, I’m sorry,” You shake your head, feeling a little ashamed for bursting like that. You shouldn’t have talked to him like that, anyway. “I don’t know why I snapped, you’re just asking the important questions.”

Jungkook hesitantly hovers his hand on your shoulder, and the look he gives you seems to be asking for permission to touch you. You don’t even know if that’s his intention, but you give him a nod.

He smiles, tapping your shoulder for a brief second, saying, “It’s okay. You must be really stressed right now.”

“You think I can’t be calm in this situation?” You look at him with a blank expression. Jungkook’s taken aback and you witness the very split second his smile drops form his face, probably thinking he said something wrong. Then you can’t help it, you break. “I’m just fucking with you.”

Jungkook’s brows furrow as he sees you bursting into a gentle laugh, breaking your serious demeanor.

He shakes his head slowly, seemingly incredulous of the stunt you just pulled.

“You and your jokes…”

“You should’ve seen your face.”

“You got me.” Jungkook chuckles.

“I’m sorry… it’s just me trying to ignore the fact that my apartment literally got flooded and those loud and big ass fans they placed inside are about to tear my ears off.”

You see the way Jungkook’s face winces.

“Where are you staying for the night, then?” He asks.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, genuinely not sure about your options. “Probably gonna book a hotel or something.”

Of course you’ve thought about Jimin. He can probably easily help you find a place for the meantime but it’d probably be hard with him not being physically in the country just yet. Sol also crossed your mind, but you remember she has a roommate.

Getting a hotel to temporarily stay at is the most obvious option there is. It would be too much of a hassle, not to mention expensive, but—

“You can stay at mine for the night.”

You think you’re getting around to Jungkook offering you help without you even asking – but it doesn’t mean you still don’t get a little taken aback when he gives it so willingly and so quickly like this.

“No.” You shake your head.

“Seriously.” Jungkook stares at you.

You stare at him right back.

“I can’t.”

“Why?” He raised his brow.

“I can’t think of reasons right now.”

“You don’t need to think at all.”

You squint your eyes at him, he does the same.

Soon enough, Jungkook breaks first and laughs.

“Come on! You’re gonna freeze in here.”

Hesitantly, you say, “… Are you sure?”

“What are you worried about?” He cocks his head to the side, awaiting your response.

Well. There’s a lot to be worried about.

There’s the thing where you always just seem to be caught into some shit and then he catches you right exactly in it. It’s starting to get embarrassing.

But Jungkook just doesn’t really seem to mind it.

“Nothing, really.” Is what you weakly settled for.

“Okay…” He trails off, raising a brow, obviously a bit confused. “Then what’s the big deal? Do you really want to go through the hassle of picking out hotels and booking a room at this hour? You have to go to work tomorrow.”

You visibly wince at the mention of work.

He’s right and you kind of hate it.

“You’re right…” you say after a while.

“You’re staying at mine?” Jungkook asks again, in which you nod your head in confirmation.

You stand up from your suitcase and pull up the handle. Then you look at him sincerely to give him a smile. “Thank you. I think this is like the five hundredth time this kind of thing happened between you and I.”

“Not counting.” Jungkook shrugs. “Have you had dinner yet?”

You nod your head. “I went with a friend— a co-worker.”

Jungkook visibly stills.

“The guy from a few days ago at the restaurant around work?”

You perk up at that, surprised he still recalls that day.

“Yeah, that’s him. Taemu. From the IT dep.”

He nods. You don’t know if he’s interested or not.

You think it’s a bit random that he brought that up, though, but you shake the thoughts away and call his name.

Jungkook looks at you.

“Thank you.” You say, hoping he hears the sincerity in your voice.

He chuckles. “You’re welcome,” Jungkook then gestures to the luggage you’re holding. “Let me.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for you to say yes before he takes the handle from you and carries the luggage with him to the direction of his place just across from yours.

You consciously try to make your steps lighter as you walk out of the shower box, making your way towards your suitcase to check on the clothes you packed.

When you open it, you thank the heavens that there are underwear – and a lot of them, for the record – but as you rummage around some more, you find that other than your work clothes, you only have nightwear inside. And when you say nightwear, not the comfortable cotton pajama kind but the nightie one – and that basically means the baby blue silky set of tiny camisole and shorts that can pass as a pair of panties.

I can’t possibly wear these, you think to yourself, hastily burying the pieces of clothing in the bottom of your luggage.

It shouldn’t mean anything – those are nightwear after all! But it was already embarrassing to ask Jungkook earlier if you could use his shower and his towel. You can’t come out of the bathroom wearing clothes that Jimin once tagged as “slutty pjs”. Not when you’re in Jungkook’s place.

“__?”

You look over to the door when you hear Jungkook’s voice, a knock following.

“Yes?” You answer.

“Do you have clothes in there?”

At the question, your gaze automatically falls to the suitcase where the thin strap of the camisole peeks out in between some other clothes that are completely useless for the night.

With hesitance, you say, “Uhm… do you possibly have a shirt I can borrow? I promise to clean it and return it to you tomorrow, ASAP.”

You hear him chuckle from the other side. “I brought you some. There’s also a pair of sweatpants but I’m not sure if they’ll fit you.”

It’s hard to not celebrate silently when Jungkook says that – but you might have jumped a little at his words.

When you walk towards the door and open it, you give Jungkook a huge smile as you tell him, “Thanks!”

He stops. And then you stop.

You realize you’re only in your towel – his towel, to be exact.

You feel the blood rushing to your cheeks the moment it registers.

Before you can do or say anything, Jungkook moves on quickly and stretches his arm, thrusting the clothes he’s mentioned into your way.

“There.” He says simply, smiling at you.

You take them from his hand, giving him a smile too, albeit a bit awkward.

“T-thanks.”

Jungkook turns on his heel to leave, and you lock the door to the bathroom as soon as he walks away.

You settle his clothes on top of the flat surface of the lavatory, physically shaking your head as you look at yourself in the mirror to shake your thoughts away.

Thoughts of his slightly parted lips when you opened the door while you’re only in a towel.

But it happened in such a split second that you’re not sure if it even happened.

When you take his white shirt, it feels soft to the touch and there’s a scent of fresh laundry that wafts through your nose when you wear it on yourself.

It’s loose on you, the sleeves almost covering your whole arms and the hem stopping mid-thigh. But because of that, it feels comfortable – like the oversized shirts you wear to bed that you, unfortunately, weren’t able to pack with you in the heap of panic.

But the pants show a different case. It’s so big that it drags on the floor as you wear it.

You made do, though; drawing the strings tightly and and knotting them together, pulling up the gartered hems up to your calf.

When you come out of the bathroom, Jungkook welcomes you with nothing but a towel wrapped around his lower half.

“H-hey,” You stammer, eyes meeting his own to avoid looking at his naked torso.

“I was just going in. You done?” He casually says, as if he doesn’t mind being naked in front of you.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m done. Thanks for the clothes.” You say, gesturing across your body.

“Looks good.” Jungkook comments before entering the bathroom.

You think your cheeks just got impossibly hotter.

The sound of water running is heard before you scramble to the living room.

Why was he naked?!

Okay, he wasn’t actually naked naked but still, he had no clothes on. Why did he have no clothes on? You’re trying to erase the image of his torso, the lines that draw an obvious four-pack, his firm-looking chest, and the way the tattoos over his right arm apparently go way above his shoulder. It’s obvious that he goes to the gym and works out from the way those polo sleeves of his always hug his biceps a little too tight – and with a body like that, you completely understand why he wouldn’t mind parading it around.

The AC in his unit is turned on, but it suddenly feels way too hot from where you currently sit on his couch.

Shut up. Ugh. You tell yourself internally.

Completely wanting out of that headspace, you decide to take out your iPad to get in contact with your insurance company to discuss your current situation, and it does a good job of keeping your mind off Jungkook for a while.

You’re so deep in the activity that you don’t even notice a few minutes has already gone by, and with that, you don’t notice Jungkook coming out of the shower.

When you see him in your periphery, he’s now thankfully dressed in a shirt and some basketball shorts. He’s drying his hair as he walks over to your direction in the living room.

You look at him in surprise when you notice the pillow and comforter he has in his hands.

“Sorry. You should’ve called me, I could’ve helped,” you say, standing up from the couch, ready to help him with it, assuming that you’ll be on the couch tonight.

Jungkook looks at you with furrowed brows. “I’m taking the couch.”

You stare at him, ready to hear him say he’s kidding or something but he doesn’t look like he’s joking.

You shake your head vigorously.

“No, that’s ridiculous.”

“What’s ridiculous about it?” Jungkook says, putting the pillows on the couch, starting to make it all the while looking at you through the process to engage.

“It’s your place.” You reason.

“And you’re my guest.” He says as a matter of fact.

“But—”

Jungkook cuts you off before you can even finish your sentence.

“__, it’s fine, really. You can take my bed. I insist.”

“Jungkook…” you trail off, sounding more like a whine.

He laughs and then looks at you with a playful smile. “Okay, should we compromise? Like, what, share the bed or the couch?”

You ignore the way your cheeks heat up at the suggestion.

You honestly don’t know why Jungkook says these kinds of things. You know it’s just his usual teasing, but he’s about to confuse you one of these days…

“God, no.” You respond with a shake of your head.

He chuckles. “Oh, is sleeping with me that repulsive to you?”

You push a little at his shoulder and roll your eyes.

When Jungkook’s done fixing the couch, he gestures to the door by the far end of the room. “Come on, I'll take you to the bedroom.”

You both walk towards that direction and as much as you’ve been over his place for more than once now, you’ve actually never seen his room – and for the record, why would you?

But it looks nice. Just like the rest of his apartment’s interior, his room is also almost the same. Kind of bare, but there are some sleek furniture that add character to the whole place.

“Too cold?” Jungkook asks, and you look at him to see him holding the remote of his AC.

“The temp’s fine.”

He hums and puts down the remote.

“Alright, then. Just call me if you need something.” Jungkook says, gesturing to the door. He’s about to leave when you call him again.

“Good night, Jungkook. Thank you for your bed.”

“Good night, __. Uh… sweet dreams?”

You roll your eyes. Jungkook laughs.

When he leaves, you sit on his mattress covered by black duvets and sheets. It’s soft, and you let yourself bounce on the fluffy surface, delighting at the feel.

It’s about the same size as yours, and when you lay on it, you smell that usual scent that Jungkook always emanates. Clean, crisp, a little sweet. Like fresh apples. Or fresh laundry. He just always smells so… clean.

You feel a little sense of strangeness at the different environment you’re in, but the bed is too soft that you feel like you’re almost floating – and maybe it’s because you are tired from work and drained from the whole fiasco at your apartment, but you fall asleep fast and heavy within just a few minutes.

You almost jump from the bed when you open your eyes and see a different type of bedding, only to realize that you’re actually not in your apartment and in Jungkook’s instead.

After processing that, you begin to do a little stretching, finding that you slept quite well. As you do so, your eyes catch the digital clock on the bedside table, and you read 4:30 am.

It’s a bit too early to start getting ready for work, but maybe if you start prepping now, you’ll be ready to go out just as when Jungkook is waking up.

When you stand from the bed, you discover the absence of pants around your waist, the cold air sending goosebumps over your bare legs – and as expected, you see the sweats getting caught in between the heaps of dark sheets on the bed.

You must have taken it off in the middle of the night. It’s why you usually forgo pants when you sleep.

You decide against wearing it again, though, assuming that Jungkook is still sound asleep by now so he can’t possibly see you walking around his place naked from the waist down. Besides, the shirt’s big and almost serves as a dress.

Carrying the pants with you, you silently open the door to his bedroom to tiptoe on your way to the bathroom.

“Hey,”

“Jesus christ!” You clutch your heart at the sudden sound of Jungkook’s voice booming across the unit.

When you look at him, he’s… working out. Apparently.

Jungkook takes out the airpods from his ears and drink from his tumbler.

“What are you tiptoeing for?” He asks, brows furrowed.

From where you stand, you see droplets of sweat on the side of his forehead, his chest heaving from the push-ups you catch him doing a few seconds ago on the mat that he laid on the floor. There are small weights on the side, and Jungkook is still wearing his clothes from last night.

Did he possibly just… wake up and then choose to exercise? Is this his everyday routine?

“I didn’t want to wake you,” you make up an excuse that’s kind of partly true. He slept on the couch in the living room, after all. And from the sala, everything is pretty much visible to the eye as the unit has an open layout. So one single noise could’ve awakened him.

“Too late for that,” Jungkook chuckles. He looks at you longer than a second and you’re just about to get conscious when he asks, “You get ready for work at four?”

You purse your lips into a thin line. “Sort of. I also have to check my place.” Jungkook nods, understanding. “Uh, Jungkook?” He hums to acknowledge you. “Can I use your shower? Again?”

He laughs at the way you smile at him awkwardly. “Sure. Your towel’s just over the rack.”

“Thanks.” You smile at him and go straight to the bathroom.

You make quick work of washing yourself, and the shower, just like last night, isn’t your usual routine because of course, most of your stuff are still over at your place. Though Jungkook is kind enough to lend you some of his unused products – even giving you a spare toothbrush which now sits beside his own on the bathroom sink.

When you finish showering, you wear his shirt and his pants once again. As you go out of the bathroom, the sound of oil popping from the kitchen doesn’t escape your ears.

“I made breakfast.” Jungkook says as you make your way towards the kitchen island. He’s a few steps away, working around the stove, frying up some sausage. He takes some eggs and then turns to you. “How do you like your eggs?”

You’re sure he doesn’t mean anything by that, but then you both laugh at the realization anyway.

“Sunny side up.” You say after a while, seating yourself on one of the high stools. “Can I help you?”

“It’s okay, just sit there.”

You put your elbow on the island as you watch him work. “Wow, do you really treat all your guests like this?” You tease, deciding to poke a joke.

Jungkook laughs as he starts breaking eggs into the frying pan.

“You’re the first one.” He raises a brow your way, lips tilted into a playful smile.

“Awe.” You pretend to curtsy which makes Jungkook laugh.

It doesn’t take long before Jungkook serves you a plate of sausage and perfectly-made sunny side up. You say a delighted “thank you!” in which Jungkook returns an adorable smile for.

You thought he was going to eat with you, but he only ate the sausage and began to work on cutting up some bananas while you continued to eat.

“What did they say about your apartment? How long is the repair?” Jungkook asks while he takes out a mixer.

“Week-long,” He visibly winces at your answer. You purse your lips. “I’m trying to look for a place to stay for the remaining days.”

Jungkook furrows his brows. “Lease doesn’t cover relocation?”

“Talked to the building manager and the landlord last night and they said it doesn’t. I also read the policy again myself last night, though, just to be sure. Anyway, landlord’s cutting my rent this month for up to thirty, so that’s something.”

“Okay… how about your stuff?”

As you watch Jungkook during the whole conversation, you realize that he’s apparently making a protein shake, and when he finishes shaking the bottle, he gestures it towards you, silently asking if you want to try it.

You shake your head, also answering his question. “I already filed a claim on it with my insurance company, so they’re handling it for me. They’re probably going to seek reimbursement from my upstairs neighbor’s insurance if he has one,” You shrug. “And I’m also gonna have to ask him to pay for the deductible.”

Jungkook nods, consuming his drink. You watch as he leans back on the kitchen sink, putting his protein shake down and crossing his arms, looking right at you.

“Why don’t you stay here for a while?”

You look right back at him weird.

“You’re not serious.”

“When am I not serious?”

You hold a staring competition after that, but Jungkook’s eyes are way too intense so you break away first.

“I just can’t.” You say, interrupting the silence.

“It’s friend to a friend. I bet you’d do this for me too.” Jungkook shrugs.

He doesn’t understand, though. Staying at his place for the remaining six days would mean that you’d be both living under the same roof together, and while it’s true that you would probably do this for him if he was in your shoes, it’s just not the same.

But you don’t want to get into all that. It’s too complicated to explain, even to yourself.

So you decide to joke a little.

“Probably not.” You tease.

Jungkook chuckles. “Mean.” He comments, shaking his head at you and playfully clicking his tongue.

“I’m joking,” you smile apologetically. “It’s just for six more days, though. The manager told me it might take faster.”

“Where do plan to stay, anyway? A hotel would be really inconvenient. The nearest one around here is too far from work, not to mention it’d be expensive as well.”

“There’s loss of use coverage,” You say, even though you know the stipulation, and your apartment flooding because of your neighbor’s negligence might probably not be in the clauses.

It’s just to reason with Jungkook, but he’s quick to present another point.

“It’s gonna take a long while, no?”

You pout. Sighing, you say, “You’re right.”

“Okay, so why not stay here?” Jungkook asks curiously. “You know I don’t mind. I won’t mind.” He says and it sounds so convincing and genuine.

You decide to deflect a little because you feel like giving in any seconds now.

“You say that but wait until you find that I’m not very likeable as a roommate.”

Jungkook raises a brow. “Shoot. Hit me.”

Pursing your lips into a thin line, you try to think of your bad habits.

“I…” you trail off, but it stretches into seconds way longer than necessary.

Jungkook chuckles. “See, you can’t even list one.”

“I don’t cook.” You point out.

“I already know that.”

You frown. “So we can’t take turns cooking while I stay here.”

Jungkook only shrugs. “There’s take-out.”

“You’re gonna eat take-out for a week?”

“I can cook.” He chuckles.

“Okay… but sometimes, I get super cranky.”

He nods. “I’ll be out of your way, then. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

You sigh, out of reasons now.

“I’ll try to be helpful with you in the kitchen for the next six days. And I’ll also be nice.”

Jungkook’s brows perk up. “You’re saying you want to stay here?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “But… I wan to pay you.”

“__, the whole reason why I’m offering is because a hotel is gonna cost you,” Jungkook laughs.

That prompts you to put a frown on your face.

“Fair point. But I’m going to take your couch the entire time, okay? And that’s final.”

It takes a little longer for Jungkook to agree to that. But he nods his head, anyway, saying, “Sure.”

It sounds so non-committal. You think he's going to still try insisting taking the couch.

“Okay.” You say, ignoring that thought, smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“You know you’re always welcome, right?” Jungkook says.

You’re thankful he turns around after he says that to tend to the stuff he used a while ago in the sink, giving you a perfect leeway to avoid his gaze lest he takes notice of the way you can’t help a big smile.

“I’m gonna take a shower. Finish your breakfast.” He says, pointing to your unfinished plate.

You give him a small salute.

Before he goes to the direction of the bathroom, Jungkook turns around to ask. "Do you want to go to work together?" He raises a brow, but then a second after his question, he puts a hand up, effectively stopping you from answering. "You're gonna say no. But I insist. Say yes, I made you breakfast."

You laugh at his squinted eyes.

"I was going to say yes, anyway."

"No, you weren't." Jungkook fires back.

You shoo him away playfully before he finally leave for the shower.

All you can think about is that maybe silver linings are indeed true.

Sharing a space with somebody has always felt… weird.

You had a roommate back in college for the whole four years, and while it wasn’t the worst thing that ever happened to you – it was just an experience that didn’t really strike you as something memorable or fun. Min Heeji was a Bio major who was an extreme introvert, and past the casual hi’s and hello’s, you both just never hit it off.

After moving out of your dorm, you rented around Itaewon. You found the unit through a listing you saw on Facebook – some woman who was finding a roommate to split the rent with. You found out later that the reason why the previous people before you left was because she was quite an interesting lady… let’s just say – she was a person who dabbled on the arts of illegal drug trading. Jimin jokingly told you he wondered about how her weed tasted like. Sometimes, you want to smack him on the head.

You pretty much decided on being against roommates for the entirety of your life after that.

But Jeon Jungkook is thankfully not a total hermit, nor does he sell weed.

It’s been long since you lived with somebody, and being under the same roof as him is different – the good kind of different, to be clear.

He’s somewhat a clean freak so it’s almost embarrassing to do anything in his place because it’s always so spot clean.

One thing that you learned though is that he’s a busy man. You had an idea about a packed schedule and non-existent free time for an executive person like him – but the idea feels more real now that you’ve witnessed it.

On the first day of your stay, after your apartment got flooded, he drove you both to work just like he offered. During the night, though, he seemed to have come home late. You slept at around 10pm and never saw him entering the door, and when you woke up the next day, he’s gone, only a note on the fridge telling you that he’s prepared some breakfast you can heat up to eat.

Nonetheless, you feel into quite an easy routine with him.

After a great deal of insistence from your side, Jungkook is rightfully assigned in his bedroom while you lay on the couch. It’s a bit bigger than the one you have on your own, so there’s space for moving around. Even when you wake up with shitty back pains in the mornings, sleeping on his couch is better than sleeping in your current wreck of an apartment as the contractor is already repairing your place.

As of the third day since the incident, they’ve already changed your ceiling, the flooring coming next. It was starting to look good as per your visit.

That made it clearer to you, though, that you’re indeed staying at Jungkook’s for another four days.

Jungkook was so busy that he even worked on a Saturday – told you that it was a hectic week for his team over a shared dinner that you thought will happen only once during your stay with his packed schedule. On Sunday, you kind of assumed that Jungkook will still be at the office, but he surprised you when he came barging in the bathroom while you were in it.

You had your leg propped on the edge of the bathtub, squeezing the bottle of lotion in your palm and spreading the cream over the skin of your shin, adjusting the towel up your thighs so you can cover your entire leg with the product.

You did so mindlessly, part of your usual after-shower routine, completely unassuming of the sound of the doorknob clicking and Jungkook suddenly barging inside the room with a hamper in his hand.

Frozen in your position, your eyes locked into his own as he stepped a foot forward on the tiled floor. You realized the hamper is his laundry.

“Sorry, I didn’t know you were here,” Jungkook apologized, and he looked genuinely bashful.

“I thought you were at work.” you said, adjusting the towel on the top of your head.

Jungkook raised a brow, but there’s a smile on his lips. “On a Sunday?”

You narrowed your eyes at him which prompted him to laugh. A beat of silence, and then you noticed Jungkook’s gaze. You felt his eyes to the direction of your raised leg on the porcelain tub – and if your own sight didn’t deceive you, you could’ve sworn he’d made a quick glance-over to the expanse of your bare leg before he snapped right back into looking at your face.

“Anyway, I was just gonna do my laundry,” Jungkook twisted himself away from the bathroom’s door. “I’ll wait for you to finish, though. I’m sorry again for barging in.”

At that, you quickly shook your head and planted both your feet on the tiles, standing upright.

“No, it’s fine. I’m done, anyway. Are you in a hurry? I just need to change into some… clothes.” You said, glancing at the heap of some pajama pants and a t-shirt on the bathroom sink.

“Not in a hurry. You can change here.” Jungkook gave you a small smile.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I’ll be super quick.”

Your lips curled into an apologetic smile, but Jungkook waved you off.

He took one last look at you before he locked the door – one thing that you forgot to do in the very first place.

You blamed it on your habit of not really being mindful about it since you were used to living alone.

The day after that – one fateful Monday – Jungkook once again was MIA at his own place. You woke around 6 am, and as you got ready for work, you noticed a note on his fridge that he went to work earlier than usual that day, and he’d also be working late so you should lock up at night.

At the company, you did not even catch a single glimpse of him.

You bought some food on your way to his place later that day, thinking that maybe you could share a meal together – nevermind the fact that he had told you he was going to be home late. But you did not expect his “late” would exceed past 11 pm, and since you were also pretty much tired from your own activities for that day, you fell asleep on the couch without making it, lying on the surface with no pillows and comforter over your body.

In your dreams that night, you felt like you were floating.

Somebody has tucked their arms under your knees and neck, taking you off the previous surface you were lying on. The unfamiliar man cradles your body against his, carrying you somewhere and putting you on a much softer place. A mattress. A big, soft, mattress. And you noted that the man smelled of green apples and laundry. An almost familiar scent.

Needless to say, your dream was quite vivid that night.

When you woke up the next morning, you were welcomed with the familiar grey paint of the walls – the white ceiling, and the dark sheets and pillows that surrounded you. A waft of fresh laundry smell. The Iron Man figurine on the top shelf of the cabinet in the corner of the room. The black slippers on the side of the door that are way too big to be yours.

Jungkook.

The strange man in your dreams was Jungkook. And it wasn’t a dream at all.

It was Jeon Jungkook who carried you all the way to his bedroom from the sofa so you could sleep comfortably on it.

When you went out of his room that morning, ready to thank him and tell him he didn’t have to do what he did, feeling bad at the thought of him sleeping on his couch at his own place, Jungkook was nowhere to be found.

But as if it was becoming tradition, there was a note on his fridge that told you: I hope you don’t mind that I brought you to my room. I found you uncomfortable on the couch last night. Didn’t cook us breakfast because I have to go to work early again today, but I’ll have food delivered at around 7. Good morning, __ :)

— Jungkook.

That night, though, Jungkook miraculously came home early.

He arrived an hour after you, just in time as you finished doing the prep for the bibimbap you were planning to eat on your own, assuming Jungkook was going to be late again. When you saw him entering the door, you decided to make the portions of the ingredients bigger, thinking that it was the perfect opportunity to say thank you for the other night.

And you did not forget to say that either.

“Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to…” you trailed off, giving him a sheepish smile across the dining table as you both ate.

Jungkook, with his mouth full of rice – seemingly (thankfully) enjoying the meal you prepared for him – munched on it before he said, “You looked real tired. And uncomfortable, which reminds me, you should sleep in the bedroom as well tonight.”

You shook your head. “It’s fine, Jungkook. Last night was just – uh, I was waiting for you to come home because I didn’t want to just lounge around your living room while you aren’t around, but then I guessed you arrived a little late.”

Out of all the things you’d said, it seemed Jungkook only remembered one thing.

“You were waiting for me to come home?” He said, his hand reaching for the side dish pausing mid-air, eyes trained to you. Curious, his brow piqued in what seemed like genuine intrigue.

You stopped. You went over your words, not realizing those came out of your mouth.

Obviously, you didn’t mean for that to slip out.

So, you shook your head slowly. Hesitantly, you reasoned, “It’s just you’re always in your room first before I fix the couch for bedtime. So.” You shrugged, knowing your explanation didn’t suffice.

Jungkook gave you a nod with small a smile on his lips.

“I’m sorry for making you wait, then. It’s just extra busy at the company these days.”

Your brows furrowed in curiosity, “Yeah, I heard about the collaboration with Kang Tech.”

You found out about it at work that day. It’s in the accounts payable you’ve worked on the past few days, and when you asked Joonhwi and Sol about it, they confirmed the recent moves the company is recently making.

You also realized then that the reason why the mystery woman in the elevator was familiar to you was because you’ve seen pictures of her before.

Of course you’d know her. She’s the woman Jimin’s parents are trying to set him up with. The one and only Kang Heesu. She took over as CEO just very recently at Kang Tech.

Apparently, Blue Nexus and Kang Tech are collaborating on a product that will be announced later during the month – which explains her being at the company oftentimes, Jungkook being busy, drowned with work stuff – them working closely together.

Whatever you felt on that day you saw them together – you’d like to dismiss that as just a blip in the system. Your system, to be exact.

It isn’t any of your business whoever gets around with Jungkook. Whether he’s close with Kang Heesu outside work or not (like what you’ve pondered about ever since finding out about the information of their collaboration) – that’s their thing.

“Yeah, the team’s been working overtime because of it.” Jungkook added to your words from earlier.

“So, you’re more tired than I am,” You pointed out, noting the obvious. He went to work at the ass-crack of dawn, went home late, and whenever he was home – all he faced was his laptop.

You even doubt he was getting enough sleep. There were bags under his eyes that weren’t there the past month you first met him – and even though he carried them with a certain grace, you could still see that some of the shine in his eyes was becoming absent.

You were glad you were able to prepare something for him. Did something for him. You didn’t have to – but you did. Because you wanted to be a helpful roommate.

“Does it show?” Jungkook chuckled, leaning back on the chair, a bashful expression on his face.

You shook your head. “Nope. But yeah, you don’t need to give up your bedroom tonight. I’ll be fine here.”

“I actually bought something. Wait a minute,” Jungkook suddenly said. Your brows furrowed when you watched him saunter over the living room and in towards his bedroom. When he came back to the dining area, he was carrying a huge paper bag. You looked at him, visibly confused. Jungkook cleared his throat as he sat back down on his seat. “I was thinking you could use this. It’s a foldable cushion or whatever so you can sleep more comfortably on the couch.”

You gawked at the paper bag, and then at him.

“What?”

“I went to the mall yesterday and the lady told me this is one of their best sellers… I don’t know. Do you want to have a look at it?” Jungkook said, worry seeping in his tone.

“That’s a… cushion? For the couch?”

He nodded.

“Oh.” Was the only thing you could utter. You didn’t really know what to say. “I… this is really thoughtful. You didn’t have to, you know that, right?”

Jungkook shook his head and gave you a small smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook.” You told him sincerely.

“It’s nothing.” He waved you off. “I got that dry-cleaned already, by the way, so you can use it tonight if you really insist on sleeping on the couch.” Jungkook said with a teasing smile.

“That,” you point to the paper bag, “will single-handedly get me to want to live here for another three months.”

Jungkook raised his brow. “Really?”

You chuckled, leaving the conversation up on the air.

When you both finished your meal, you offered to do the dishes yourself, but Jungkook was insistent to do it, saying you’ve already done a lot for the day. You begged to differ, but you relented, anyway.

After you showered and made the couch, geeking internally at how soft the cushion he bought was, you couldn’t sleep right away, your mind finding it hard to focus on the lull of the crickets. So, at around 11 pm, you opened your laptop to pull up an X-Files episode, thinking it could condition you into being sleepy.

You promised yourself you were just going to finish one more episode, but the next episode button was too tempting and you found yourself binging the show into the wee hours of the night.

“__?” A voice coming from the far end of the room called, followed by the clicking sound of the lights turning on. With that, you found Jungkook standing on his door with his eyes half-lidded, hands rubbing his chest, seemingly having just woken up from his sleep.

“Jungkook,” you acknowledged him, straying your attention from your show. Jungkook started to trot towards the direction of the kitchen, and your eyes followed him as he stopped in front of his fridge, taking some water out and pouring it into a glass.

After he drank it, he looked at you to ask, “Can’t sleep?” You nodded your head. He made his way towards the couch, pointing at it. “Would you mind?”

“No, do you want to?” You adjusted the duvet you put all over your back to make room for him, and Jungkook placed himself beside you, peering over the screen on your laptop.

“What are you watching?” He asked, voice a little groggy.

“The X-Files. You know the show?”

“Heard about it a few times. Never gotten around to watch it, though,” Jungkook said, leaning on the back of the couch, eyes still glued to your laptop.

You smiled. “Maybe you can start it now.”

“What’s it about?”

“Uh… aliens,” you started off, feeling a little silly about it. Gauging his reaction, you waited for him to give you a judgmental look but he seemed to be intrigued when he looked at you, asking for more details. You perked up that, feeling suddenly excited. “Okay, so, the guy here – his name’s Mulder. He’s an FBI agent who’s tasked on cases that have, you know, unexplainable nature. Basically, he believes in aliens, all that ET stuff,” you explained. Right on time, Gillian Anderson appears on frame. Pointing at her, you looked at Jungkook as you introduced her to him, “And the woman – she’s so pretty – that’s Scully. She’s a skeptic. She’s an FBI agent who’s also a scientist and was assigned to be with him to debunk his work.”

“So, they investigate cases together?” Jungkook added.

You nodded your head. “Yeah, and it’s different for each episode. There’s the alien storyline which is like, the main plot of the show, but there’s the fun filler episodes. Monster of the week, they call it. I’m rewatching one of those right now ‘cause they’re fun and don’t have a backstory.”

“It sounds good,” Jungkook looked impressed, training his eyes back on the show.

You weren’t sure if he was just trying to make a conversation, but he seemed genuinely interested as you both watched the show, which tickled your excitement more. You’ve tried to get Jimin into it but he wasn’t really an avid fan of watching long shows, so you’ve given up on trying to convince him to be as obsessive of the show as you.

“Do they kiss?” Jungkook suddenly asked mid-episode, brows furrowed as he watched Mulder wiped something off the side of Scully’s lips. It’s the episode when Scully just got back from being abducted.

Amused, you looked at him and let out a chuckle. Jungkook turned to look at you, confused at the reaction.

“Hm?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s just funny. So, there’s a thing in this show, right? Scully and Mulder are not supposed to be a couple, but they act like one.”

Jungkook let out a seemingly enlightened, “Ah.” Then he looked at your screen again, “I’m watching it right now out of context and I’m assuming they’re a couple.”

“Right? They have such insane chemistry. It’s why I love this show so much.”

“Wait. They never get together? Or kiss, romantically?” Jungkook asked curiously.

“They kiss on the seventh season. We’re on the second one.”

“Wow,” He breathed, genuinely surprised. “That’s a long wait.”

“I know,” you chuckled.

You both sat beside each other as the episode finished. Jungkook would have some questions, and you happily answered each one. It was also fun to share some lore about the show – and you didn’t know if you were coming off too geeky about it – you were just unbelievably excited that he seemed to genuinely like it.

Time passed without you both noticing, and it was 2:23 am when you became hesitant on clicking the next episode button.

“Do you still want to watch another one or…” You trailed off, eyes glued to the screen, waiting to hear Jungkook’s response. But then a few seconds passed, and you didn’t receive one. Turning your head to the side, your eyes widened when you see the state Jungkook was in.

He was leaning far back on the couch with his head resting on the backrest, arms crossed over his chest, lips slightly parted with his eyes shut closed. You could see his chest rising and falling from the way he breathed in and out of sleep, looking quite peaceful regardless of his seemingly uncomfortable position.

You shut your mouth and closed your laptop quietly, trying to be careful with your movements so as to not disturb him and accidentally wake him up. Stretching your back to lean down, your breath hitched as you tried to set the laptop down on the coffee table, not daring to graze any part of Jungkook’s body, especially when his thigh was so closed to your own.

When you successfully put away the device, you went back to sitting beside him, contemplating on your next move.

You ended up staring at him, noting the way his biceps are bulging out of the sleeves of his white shirt with a thin material from their crossed position. Your eyes trailed down to the veins on his forearms, and naturally, you focused in on the one with the swirls of ink around it. It was a body of art on the first look – but looking at it at that moment – close up and free, you took time to identify the drawings on his skin.

There was that snake that trailed down close to his hand, the skeletal rock n’ roll hand, and the script that says “rather be dead than cool”. It was a shame that you couldn’t see from your current view the flower tattoo you were always curious about, nevertheless, the entirety of his inked arm was just… breathtaking, to say the least.

You wanted to ask him what they meant – or if they even meant something. You knew by now he only got them in college – when he moved to the US – and you were just curious about how he decided to get them; about the backstory, anything… Would love to trace down your fingers on his skin as he tells you the exact moment.

And then you realized what you were doing and suddenly looked away.

You felt like a creep. What were you doing, staring at him while he was unaware, unconscious in his sleep? It was not right, and you were supposed to scoot over to the edge to give him plenty of space all for himself.

But as you looked at him again, your eyes stopped at his face, and you couldn’t help but stare at it.

Again.

His nose was something you weirdly have a liking to, and there’s a scar on his cheek that once again bubbled up another layer of curiosity within you.

“Stop it.” You mumbled out loud – not loud enough for Jungkook to hear – but just enough to snap yourself out of the trance you were in.

It was stupid. So stupid. To stare at a sleeping man and have those thoughts inside your head. Jungkook would never do anything like this to you, and at that sentiment, you stood up from the couch to get away.

You caught a sight of the duvet that you used a while ago. As you looked at Jungkook, he seemed to be in dire need of one, so you made quiet steps to put it over him, stopping your breathing in case you did it too loud and he wakes up.

As you carefully laid out the blanket on top of his body, Jungkook stirred, and your breath hitched as you stopped on your tracks.

He mumbled something incoherent, his neck craning to lay on his cheek. Regardless, he stayed on his position, arms still crossed, seemingly going back to his deep sleep instantly.

You stepped out in front of him, letting out a breath of relief.

Standing there for a few seconds, you wondered about where you were going to stay. Jungkook was on the couch and unlike him – you could not carry him to his room without him noticing.

Looking at the direction of said room, you thought about staying there for the night, but decide against it. You didn’t get his permission to do so, it’d be rude—

But the couch is only one, though. And you could feel a yawn ready to come out of your own mouth, sleep lurking at the back of your head.

You could try to wake Jungkook up to tell him to go to his room so he could sleep more comfortably, but you couldn’t do it. The past few days, he had been so busy with work and seemed like he wasn’t getting enough rest. What if you woke him up and he couldn’t go back to sleep anymore? That would just make you feel bad.

Getting the pillow strewn over the edge, you walked towards the direction and fixed it against the arm rest, sitting on the spot and making yourself comfortable on it. Of course, it wasn’t – you were craning your neck too far to the side to try to lay your head, and your body was sprawled in a weird sitting and lying position.

It was fine, though. Jungkook was about two feet away from you, and you felt like you could sleep in the state.

But it was a few long minutes before it completely overtook you.

There’s a feeling of a hard plane against your back when you feel yourself waking up.

You’re in a curled position, hands tucked under your cheeks. As much as you’re starting to slowly feel conscious, you’re still not a hundred percent aware of your surroundings just yet. It’s why you ignore the blow of hot air against the crook of your neck.

When you blearily open your eyes, you’re welcomed with the sight of the back of the grey couch you’ve accustomed yourself with over the past few days. The white foldable cushion you’re lying on. The familiar scent of Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s another usual morning, as far as you’re concerned.

So, you stretch an arm up as well as your leg, groggily mumbling something as you go back to closing your eyes again to hopefully sneak in a few more minutes of sleep.

“Hmm…”

At the sudden sound, your eyes snap open, surprised at the embodied voice that came out somewhere that’s definitely not from your own mouth. It was close, though – something close to your neck; you felt it so – and at that realization, your eyes trail down to your waist, and your breath catches in your throat when you see an arm wrapped around it.

Under your head is another arm that adorns a familiar sleeve tattoo.

When you crane your neck to look behind you, you’re welcomed by Jungkook’s locks of black and messy hair, his face apparently buried in the crook of your neck.

He must’ve felt you move because he stirs in his position, mumbling something, arm tightening around you.

You feel your heart starting to beat faster than usual as you feel the tips of Jungkook’s fingers resting on the bare skin of your stomach due to your camisole riding up, and your eyes continue to widen when you saw that the shirt he’s worn last night is now lying haphazardly across the coffee table where your laptop is.

When Jungkook pushes himself against you closer, that’s when you feel something hard against the cleft of your ass.

“Oh my god!”

“What the fuck!”

“I’m so sorry!” You immediately say, retreating your hands that just pushed him off the couch once everything registered in your head.

You just… slept with each other! You woke up with Jungkook spooning you! The hard plane against your back that you felt earlier was his chest and the hot air blowing in your ear was his breath! You both fell asleep together on the couch!

Jungkook – the poor man – visibly winces as he cradles the back of his head, adjusting himself on the floor after you forcefully yeeted him off the couch.

He didn’t expect that, of course he didn’t! He still looks like he’s half asleep when you kneel on the floor in front of him, grabbing his shoulders and craning your neck to check if you’ve done damage to his head.

“What the hell was that for?” Jungkook asks, still lost about what just happened.

You grimace as you hesitantly put your palm over the back of his head and rub to soothe the pain you’ve caused him.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you. I was just surprised and shocked when I–”

You stopped speaking when you notice that Jungkook is looking up at you, eyes half-lidded from sleep. Stopping your ministration on the back of his head, you retreat your hands to yourself and look away.

“We slept together.”

“What?” Jungkook asks, his tone incredulous, but more like confused. When you train your eyes to him again, you see him looking down on his body and then yours.

Your cheeks heat up when you realize what you just said.

“Oh my god, no! Not slept slept with each other! I mean, we slept together. Like, literally.” You say, looking at him in panic.

Jungkook furrows his brows. And then after a beat of silence, he lets out a low, “Oh.”

“Oh?” You parrot back.

“Yeah, oh,” He says drily. Jungkook rubs his eyes with his fists and then looks at you again. “I’m sorry, I feel disoriented. I just woke up.”

You wince at that, feeling bad for pushing him again.

It was just a reflex thing, okay! Especially when you felt that certain something in your ass.

When Jungkook stands up from the floor, you notice the strings of his grey shorts getting undone, and your eyes betray you as they pay a look at the noticeable bulge on his crotch.

Jesus H. Fucking Christ.

You stand up quickly, following after him, feeling your heart hammer in your chest.

Okay, boo-fucking-hoo! Men get boners in the mornings. What’s the big deal about it?

“What time is it?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair back, and you have to physically look away and try to busy yourself by looking for your phone so you can ignore his naked chest on display and his abs and stupid big arms.

You spot your phone nearby and turn it on.

“Six thirty.”

“Shit.” Jungkook hisses.

You’ve never heard him let out so many curses before.

“What? It’s still early.” you say, in case he was referring to work.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Yeah, no. I was supposed to get ready at five am sharp. Need to go there early.”

“Oh.”

He groans, and the sound makes your stomach feel a little weird.

“I have to go shower,” Jungkook says, picking up his shirt from the coffee table. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Huh?” You realize what he’s talking about and is then quick to shake your head. “No, not your fault. I, uh, you fell asleep on the couch last night and I didn’t want to wake you.”

He nods, more like to himself. “How did we…?” Jungkook points between you, eyeing the couch.

“I didn’t want to use your bed without your permission, so I slept on the couch as well,” But then you decide to add, “But I didn’t sleep beside you, I was like –” you point to the edge of the couch, “there.”

“Ah,” Jungkook follows your eyes, and then nods. “Okay.”

“Yeah.” you purse your lips into a thin line. “Sorry about that. I should’ve just woken you up, huh?”

“Nah, it’s fine.” He dismisses you with a wave of his hand. “Well, is it okay if I use the shower first?”

“Of course.”

Jungkook smiles before he saunters towards the bathroom. You try not to stare at the hard lines of his retreating back, taping down to his narrow waist.

You failed to do that, obviously.

Sighing out loud when you’re sure he can’t hear you, you busy yourself in the kitchen to make some toast.

After work, you paid a quick visit to your apartment to see how it’s going, since you’re supposed to be able to come back tomorrow.

Your building manager told you that you can pretty much move back already, but there’s no water yet, so you will still have to stay at Jungkook’s place for the last time. At least for another night.

Speaking of him, when you step out on your porch, you see him in front of his own unit, back turned to you, opening his door.

“Hey,” you call. Jungkook turns on his heel, and he smiles as he sees you.

“Hey,” He greets, his hand pausing on the door. Jungkook gives you his undivided attention as he looks at you. “Your apartment’s fine now?”

You nod happily, grinning widely. “Yeah. But I have no water yet. They’re turning it on tomorrow.” You saunter towards his direction and stop beside him. Pointing to the paper bags in his hands, you ask, “What’s that?”

Jungkook lifts them up. “Soju and Midday Miso take-out.” Then, hesitantly, he looks at you curiously. “Do you drink?”

That prompts you to laugh.

“Of course. Are you drinking tonight?”

He nods his head. “Yeah. I was gonna ask you to drink with me… but if you’re not up for it, I’ll just be in my room.”

You cock your head to the side.

“What’s the occasion?”

Jungkook chuckles. “Nothing. Just thought I could loosen up.”

You nod in understanding.

You think about asking him how work’s been, but decide against it, not wanting to pry in case he doesn’t want to talk about any of it.

As you both enter his apartment, it’s almost so domesticated how you take off your shoes and put them in the rack in the threshold. Jungkook wears his black sliders while you wear your baby blue ones. Following him into the living room, it’s almost wild to see yourself being so familiar with his place already.

“Where can we watch The X-Files?” Jungkook asks suddenly after he set the bags on the table, going for the remote and turning on the TV.

You look at him in surprise, not expecting him to ask that.

You answer nonetheless, and Jungkook clicks on the show once it shows up on the screen.

“Do you really want to start with the pilot episode?” You chuckle when he hovers over it.

Jungkook grins. “I enjoyed it last night. Maybe this could be a new favorite.”

“Woah,” you breathed, shaking your head. “Do you know how much I have to convince Jimin to watch this show?”

“Jimin doesn’t like shows. I wanted him to watch Suits but he said he couldn’t stand Harvey Specter – which is fair.”

“Oh my god, that’s also what he told me when I recommended Suits!” You say. You narrow your eyes at him, excited about the information. “So… you like Suits?”

Jungkook nods. “Sort of like a guilty pleasure? I used to watch it a lot in college. My roommate studied law and started telling me about how inaccurate it was, but it’s fun regardless,” He says with a shrug. “Sue me.”

“I know, right! People always wanna be smart about procedural dramas, but I think it’s just camp they can’t comprehend,” You shake your head, feeling a certain high bubble inside you. You lean your elbows on the coffee table. “Okay, okay, thoughts on Jessica Pearson?”

Jungkook grins. “A dream.”

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I’m so glad you have the correct opinion.”

Jungkook laughs at that, and you begin to eat the take-out he bought, The X-Files playing on the big screen before you.

“You went home early today,” you comment as you take the shot glass he offers you.

A few minutes has passed already and you’re beginning to open the bottles of soju, Midday Miso take-out boxes all finished.

“Managed to finish early tonight. That’s probably why I wanted to drink,” Jungkook says, tipping his head back to drink from his own bottle. “Also, it’s your last day here.”

You nod. With a teasing smile, you jab, “Are you going to miss me?”

Jungkook looks at you briefly.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” You ask incredulously, feigning hurt.

He chuckles. “I liked your little dance in the kitchen last Sunday.”

Your lips part, recalling that time when you reheated some pizza during the night. As far as you were concerned, Jungkook was in his bedroom at that time!

“You saw that?” You say, embarrassed.

Jungkook must’ve noticed, because he chuckles and begins to sound comforting when he says, “Some part of it, yeah. Megan Thee Stallion would love to perform with you, I think.”

“Oh my god, no,” You giggle, covering your face with your hands because if he caught you during that part, it means he saw you trying to throw it back. “Yeah, I think I’m packing my things right now.”

Jungkook laughs, and his eyes crinkle as he does so, overjoyed at your tactics.

“I thought you wanted to drink with me?”

You squint your eyes. “Just because I feel sorry for pushing you off the couch this morning.”

He shakes his head, still chuckling. “Yeah, that hurt. I think I have a bump on my head right now.”

You stop, eyes widening. “Seriously?”

Jungkook presses his lips together and nods. You grow concerned, ready to lean over the table to check the back of his head, but as you do so, Jungkook makes a sound of stifling his laugh and you realize he’s fucking with you.

“That’s so mean.” you say, going back to your side and pouting at him.

“Not meaner than you pushing me off the couch.” He wiggles his eyebrows.

“Ugh, I’m sorry. You just surprised me, 's all!”

Jungkook laughs and nods his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry about that. I have a habit of being able to sleep anywhere.”

You scrunch your face. “Me too.”

And then a beat of silence.

Jungkook tips his head back for another sip of his alcohol. When he looks at you again, a gentle smile is playing on his lips.

“I had a good night sleep, though. Did you?”

He looks at you with something in his eyes – something soft and gentle – his gaze making the hair on your nape stand and your cheeks burn.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The night continues to envelope your surroundings and as time passes by, the empty bottles of soju multiply.

You’ve always had a high tolerance for alcohol – and soju, in particular, is generally not too strong for you personally. With one bottle in, you don’t feel hammered just yet. There’s a daze at the back of your head that you’re starting to feel, though. One and a half is your limit, sometimes two – you’ve had that down since college.

Jungkook seems to share the same trait, it seems like. You noticed he’s on his second one, and even though his cheeks are starting to get painted red, he still speaks with you like he’s a hundred percent conscious and not like alcohol’s hit his system already.

“It’s so hot,” you say, popping open the first two buttons of your shirt. Jungkook’s coat has long been disposed on the couch, and his ties are loosened, with the long sleeves of his dress shirt pushed to his elbow, showing his tattoos.

“Should I adjust the AC?” Jungkook asks, looking at you as you gather your hair up in a ponytail.

You manage to secure it even without a tie and answer him, “No, it’s fine.”

When you feel like you can breathe again, you look at Jungkook. As you think about what to say next, you giggle lightly.

“Let’s have some fun with these,” You point to the empty bottle of soju. Jungkook quirks his brow, which prompts you to continue. “Let’s play spin the bottle. When it points at you, you have to answer some questions. If you don’t want to, then you’ll have to drink.”

Jungkook snorts. “Truth or dare? Really?”

You roll your eyes. “No, not truth or dare. Just truth because I’m sophisticated like that. Besides, are you going to entertain me if I dare you to wear a rainbow suit for work tomorrow?”

“This is your idea of fun?” Jungkook says, teasing you. Playful with a boyish grin.

You shrug. “I mean, it’s quite fun, actually. But I know about how thirty-year-olds get. If it’s past your bedtime, then…” you glance at the door to his bedroom.

Jungkook bursts out in laughter.

“You like making it sound like I’m sixty, don’t you?”

“Are you?” You pout.

Jungkook chuckles, although relenting to your game proposition.

“Alright…”

You do a little shoulder dance which makes Jungkook shake his head. As you spin the bottle, it stops and points at him. You let out a little sound of enthusiasm.

“Okay. What’s that mean?” You ask. Jungkook looks confused as he tries to see what you’re looking at. His arm. “That flower tattoo – or if it even has a meaning.”

“Oh,” Jungkook utters, realizing. He lifts up his right arm and twists it so that the flower tattoo is within both your sight. There, you see a full view of the flower drawing tattooed in orange ink. You find yourself staring at it as Jungkook starts to speak, “It’s a tiger lily. My birth flower. It means…” You can see Jungkook hesitate for a little while, and you’re just about to take back your question when he continues to say, “It means please love me.”

“Wow.” You gasp. “That’s… so pretty.”

Jungkook caresses his forearm, staring quite lovingly at the art. “I know. My tattoo artist did a really good job.”

He takes it to himself to spin the bottle again, and this time, it points at you.

“Well… do you have a tattoo?” Jungkook asks, and it’s obvious he meant to tease.

You nod your head. His playful smile drops.

“Are you serious?”

You raise your brow at him. “Sorry. Only one question gets entertained.”

He clicks his tongue playfully but then begins to spin the bottle one more time. When it points at you again, he gives you a smirk.

“Can I see your tattoo if you’re saying you have one?”

You scrunch your face, cocking your head to the side.

“Hm. I don’t think so. It’s under my boob. So.”

Jungkook stills, and you watch as his eyes trail down from your face down to your collar – although he did it quite subtly.

“Oh.”

You grin. “Yeah, “oh”,” you chuckle. When he shakes his head, you tell him, “What?” You look at him weird, regardless of the smile on your lips. He stares right back at you, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Ohh, I see. You think I’m lying.”

“No, I’m not,” he scoffs. “I just thought…”

“You just thought what?”

“I just thought you wouldn’t have one. Or if you did, it’d be a like a small thing on the leg or something. I don’t know.” He shrugs, still smiling.

You grin. “Interesting insight.”

“Nevermind that.” Jungkook rolls his eyes, spinning the bottle again.

When the rotation stills at his direction, you clap a little and put your elbows on the coffee table.

Your next question sounds stupid in your head, but you let it out anyway.

“What’s your ideal type?” You ask.

“Oh, are we doing that?” Jungkook says, sounding intrigued. “Are you going to ask me about my first kiss next?”

You snort. “This feels so high school. But answer my question.”

“Yes, ma’am,” He playfully gives you a salute. You couldn’t help but giggle. “Okay, well, I like women who are smart and… funny,” Jungkook says, and when he looks at you, you move back a little. With a soft smile, he adds, “And pretty.”

You break the eye contact. Raising your brow, you nod your head. “Pretty women. Like Kang Heesu, right?”

Jungkook looks surprised when he hears the name.

“How do you know her?”

“How can I not? Jimin’s mother has been trying to set him up with her for months now.” You shrug.

Jungkook chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re talking about.

“Yeah. You’re right – not about the part that she’s my ideal type, though.”

You can’t help but let out a scoff.

“That’s such a cop-out answer, Jungkook.”

He looks at you incredulously, chuckling as he says, “What? It’s not a cop-out, it’s the truth.”

“You’re awfully close with her. I heard from my coworkers you’re both dating.” You raise a brow at him.

It’s true. Words are starting to get around the office that Jungkook and Heesu are more than just collaborators.

Of course, you know to ignore that. Not because you want to be in denial or anything – but because you just don’t think it is actually true.

But maybe poking fun at it will get you the confirmation. Or whatever. It doesn’t matter.

Jungkook laughs at your previous words, though, as if you just told him a big joke.

“God, no,” he shakes his head, as if he couldn’t believe it. “They’re really saying that?” You nod your head, your lips pressed into a thin line. “I ought to make everybody know we’re just working together. You know about the project the company has in collaboration with Kang Tech, right?”

“Yeah.”

“There you go,” Jungkook chuckles. “I’m not dating Kang Heesu.”

The words feel a bit different in your ears. Paired with the way he looked at you as he said it, he sounded as though he was… almost assuring you.

But of what?

You shake off the idea in your head.

“Okay. Next one.” you interrupt the silence to change the subject. You curse in your head when the bottle stops at you.

“Your turn. What’s your ideal type?” Jungkook asks as if his tongue is just itching to ask you that. You know he’s just excited to get back at you.

You think about it for a moment, though, and you find you don’t really know what to say.

It’s not a thought you ponder over a lot. The guys that you’ve been with were so… different from each other.

“I—I’m not sure,” you shake your head, genuine.

Jungkook points at the shot glass. “New rule. I’ll count to ten and if you don’t answer, you drink.”

You glare at him; he just gives you a grin.

“I really don’t know! I mean, my past relationships are so different from each other,” you say, pouting. “But— okay. I guess I like guys who are… confident,” You look at Jungkook and then let your mind float. “And I guess I also like somebody who’s…” You watch as he leans in closer to wait for your next words. Your feel blood rushing to your cheeks as you finish up with, “Attentive. I like good listeners. Yeah.”

“Ah,” Jungkook nods. And then, he adds, “Is Shin Taemu from the IT department a good listener, then?”

Your brows furrow. “Shin Taemu?” He nods. That earns a laugh from you. “No, we’re friends.”

“Friends?” Jungkook asks curiously.

“Well, we – uh – did date. Didn’t work out. So. We’re only friends now.”

“Date, as in, a long relationship?” His eyes are so full of genuine curiosity that you cower away from them.

You shake your head at his question. “No, no – not long relationship, it wasn’t like that. I meant date as in – dinner date. Once.” You look at the shot glass and down it because of the sudden nerves that enter you. “We’re doing this game wrong.”

Jungkoon chuckles at the way you drink another glass. He mirrors your action, though, and ask, “How so? We’re questioning each other.”

“Yeah, but it’s too many questions!” You complain, jutting your lips into a pout.

“You said you only wanted truth, so there goes your questions,” Jungkook says. You roll your eyes, which makes him laugh. “Okay, just so I can amuse you, I’ll do a dare if it points at me, and you’ll do one if it stops at you. Deal?”

When you nod, Jungkook spins the bottle. He did it quite forcefully that the bottle takes a longer time to stop. You both watch keenly as it begins to slow down. Nervous, you pray it doesn’t stop at you, and you let out a sigh of relief when it finally points to Jungkook.

Jungkook shakes his head when you let out a contained, “Yes!”

“I dare you to…” you trail off, watching as he looks at you curiously. “Let me pluck your brows.”

“What?” Jungkook asks incredulously.

“A promise is a promise.” You remind him.

“Like all of them?”

“What? Of course no!” You chuckle, seeing the genuine panic in his eyes.

“Oh.”

“You silly,” You say, laughing at him. “Not right now, though. I actually feel like I’m about to pass out. Oh my god, I have to tend to a hung-over tomorrow.” You let your face fall into your hands and stifle a groan.

“I’ll cook us some porridge or something, don’t worry.” Jungkook says. Curiously, he asks, “Why do you want to pluck my brows?”

You stare at him, and then focus your eyes onto his brows.

Pouting, you let your shoulders deflate as you sigh. “They’re so thick.”

“What?” Jungkook lets out, laughing incredulously. “I’m so confused.”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

“Okay… well, would you let me pluck your brows?”

You try to think about it.

“No,” you shake your head. You add, “Unless you’re flirting with me.”

Jungkook stops. And then raises a brow. “Unless I’m flirting with you…”

You snap your eyes to look at him. Mirroring his brow, you ask, “Are you flirting with me?”

“Maybe,” Jungkook looks at you, lips tilted into a barely-there smirk that suddenly makes your cheeks burn with heat. “Do you like it?”

It takes you a while to answer, processing his words. You don’t know if he’s joking or what. Is this just his usual teasing? It feels different this time.

But why are you denying it again to yourself, though? You may be stupid sometimes, but you know his teasing gets a little… borderline flirty. You’re scared to ask him about it outright, though – afraid to be faced with the possible truth that it’s just your head playing mind-tricks for you; that Jungkook, with his teasing, is not flirty at all and you’re just flattering yourself to think about it that way.

But right now, his question feels real.

If he is flirting with you… do you like it?

You pour a drink into the shotglass and down it quickly. You feel your vision starting to get a little hazy as you put it down the table.

Jungkook realizes what you just did, and then throw his head back to laugh.

“Now, that was a cop-out.” He says, pointing to the trick that you just did.

You give him a smirk. “No rules about not answering except down a drink.”

Jungkook chuckles. “Smart girl.”

He watches as you stand up, but when you trip over the carpet, he’s quick to follow and go over to your direction to hold your wrist, his arm going around your waist to guide you to stand upright.

“You okay?” He asks. When you look up, your faces are just a hair's breadth away.

“Hm.” You hum, blinking your eyes up at him. You find it’s because your lids are starting to get heavy.

“Be careful.” Jungkook says, but he doesn’t let go of your waist, nor your wrist.

You stand there in the middle of the living room with that position, and weirdly enough, you feel like you’re both glued on it.

You can’t move – or don’t want to. You wish you want to. But you don’t, and it’s why you let Jungkook’s fingers trail softly to your waist.

“You look real sleepy,” he comments – whispers, more like, his bated breath hitting your skin.

“I am a bit dazy.” You say, finding yourself indulging in his touch.

Somehow, Jungkook never makes a move to get away even when you’re already steady on both feet. You feel that fading away so soon though, your knees starting to feel like they’re about to buckle at the way Jungkook’s eyes bore deep into your own. You feel a sort of heightened sense within your body, his hand on your back making something in you tingle.

It’s so intimate – the position. Jungkook looms over you with his much bigger frame and with his support on your back, you can just let yourself fall back.

Can you, though? Are you sure he’s going to catch you?

“You do look a little dazy,” Jungkook comments, but his eyes have traveled down to your face, and you can see them stop at your lips.

That makes them part.

You see Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing at the action.

“I do feel dazy,” you say, parroting back his words. Maybe they’re coming off slurred. You don’t know. You find you don’t care.

Jungkook’s lips tilt into a gentle smile. Soft like his demeanor. Soft like his arm that somehow found a way to tighten its hold around you even though you don’t need it. But it’s Jungkook though, and as much as you deny it even to yourself – you do like his touch.

“Yeah, you told me so.” His voice becomes an octave lower. His hands start to rub your clothed waist, and the ministrations of his thumb distract you a bit.

You roam your eyes around his face – noting the scar on his cheek which story you want to know so bad. When you trail you eyes down to his lips, you see the mole under it. You don’t think you were being subtle at all – it’s quite obvious that you’re just staring.

And you know Jungkook notices.

“Jungkook,” you breathed out, calling him about nothing in particular.

His only response is a small, gentle hum.

A beat of silence, and you feel Jungkook’s face leaning closer to yours.

You don’t make a move away from him, just let your legs stay where they are, letting Jungkook slowly pull you to him. You can tell his movements are slower than usual – like he’s testing the waters, searching for something in your eyes, quietly asking if it’s okay – if what he’s about to do is okay.

It makes your heart hammer against your chest – his breathing becoming more audible in your own ears. His mouth reeks of the soju you both drank earlier, but you’ve always liked the smell of it, especially when it comes with a man as breathtaking as him.

You feel the tip of his nose touching yours, your chest pressing against his own, his hand travelling from your waist to the back of your head.

When Jungkook leans down to close the gap, you swerve your face just in time to have his lips press against your hair instead.

“I’m sleepy.” You say quietly, a nervous lilt to your voice. You duck your head a little lower, laying your face on his chest and bury it with his scent.

You can feel Jungkook freeze in his position, taken aback by the sudden turn of events. You hope he doesn’t feel the way your heart goes abnormal in your chest with such proximity – but right now, all you want to do is hide. Hide your face away from him because if he sees you, he’ll know exactly what you’re thinking.

He’ll know exactly the effect he has on you.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Jungkook comes back to you.

“Hm,” He hums, and you feel his hand letting go of your wrist to wrap around your waist, squeezing for a brief moment. Jungkook’s other hand cradles your head to his chest, swiping his hand against your hair in a repeated manner, and with the way he rests his chin on the crown of your head, you feel comfort in the whole thing. “We should sleep.”

“Yeah…” you trail off, and you can just feel your lids getting heavier at the remark.

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“I’ll take the couch. Do you want to shower first?” You shake your head against his chest. You feel it vibrating when he chuckles. “Okay.”

“My body feels like jelly.” You say, and you feel that to be actually true.

“Is that code for “carry me to your bed, Jungkook”?”

You’re thankful your face is buried in his chest as you smile widely.

“Do you want it to be?”

“I don’t mind.”

You nod. “Good. I think I’ll get alcohol poisoning tomorrow.”

You feel Jungkook lifting his chin off your head as he sounds scold-y when he says, “Don’t joke like that.”

You giggle against his chest.

“Carry me before I pass out.”

Jungkook snorts. “Ohh. Bossy.”

“It’s my last day here. I deserve some slack.” You grumble.

“Fine.”

TAGLIST: @mortal-body-timelesssoul @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lachimolalajeon @miniesjams32 @parkinglot-nights @peterstarkchrishiddleston @aznstoner @chuberry22 @tae-hibiscus @jungkooksmytype

note: pls check your account settings if you are enabling ur profile to be tagged.

#fic: nb #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts scenarios #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x reader

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rafecameronssl4t · 1 month

Note

Ok ok ok how about thorton!Reader and Rafe but the reader is equally as bad as Rafe and Topper? I’m thinking the golf scene in season one where they jump Pope but the reader happens to be there too and Pope hopes that she’ll help him… but she doesn’t 🫣

Stay off Figure Eight || Rafe Cameron x Thornton!reader

A/n: the title of this acc hurts me. I can’t think of one (give me ideas pls) 😭😭 I usually write Thornton!reader as being a sweetheart and friends with Pope (much to Rafe's dismay) but this was fun!!!! send thru any requests you have :)

Warnings: both reader and rafe r crazy, mention of blood, violence, swearing. if you were uncomfortable watching this scene in the series, do not read as I go into detail about it

Word count: 1,608

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"Man, that party was insane!" your brother exclaims, his laugh carrying through the air. Rafe flashes a grin, his arm tightening around your shoulder as the three of you stroll across the grass, searching for a clear spot on the course.

"I mean, my first thought when I did that line was, 'Bro, do we have enough?'" Topper rambles on, clearly thrilled with his first encounter with cocaine. You roll your eyes, growing weary of hearing the same story on repeat.

"It was crazy!" Topper shakes his head in disbelief, as if trying to wrap his mind around the experience. But you’re beyond over it. "It was just a line of coke, Jesus fucking Christ," you mutter under your breath, sliding your sunglasses off and perching them atop your head.

"I know, right?" Rafe adds, chuckling lightly before he steps away from you, lining up his shot. "That was good shit," he remark as he prepares to drive the ball. You casually pop another piece of gum into your mouth, standing beside Topper, who is still basking in his night.

"Hey, you uh… you didn’t tell Sarah, did you?" Topper’s voice drops to a nervous whisper, worry creeping into his tone, his earlier bravado faltering. The mention of Sarah always makes him nervous.

"Are you kidding me, man? The way she runs her mouth? Hell no," Rafe’s response is quick, dismissive, and you can almost hear the relief in Topper’s sigh as he nods. Rafe swings his club, and the sound of the ball slicing through the air is sharp and satisfying.

You let out a low whistle as you all watch it soar, landing close to a group of middle-aged men playing a few holes ahead. "Hey, come on now!" one of them shouts, annoyed by the interruption. You and Topper exchange a glance, both struggling to contain your laughter.

A snort escapes your brother's lips, while you bite down on your gum to suppress a giggle. "Shut up!" Rafe yells back, dismissing them without a second thought, "Geezers!" "They shouldn’t be taking so long anyway," Rafe mutters, shaking his head as he returns to your side, draping his arm over your shoulder again as you chuckle softly. But then, Rafe suddenly tenses, his gaze locked onto something in the distance.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he mutters, his grip tightening on you. "What is it?" you ask, feigning innocence as you follow his line of sight, already sensing the tension brewing. "What?" Topper asks, confused, before he too follows your stares. Rafe’s eyes narrow, a dark intensity brewing within them as he stares at Pope, who remains blissfully unaware of your presence.

Topper glances at you both, sensing the tension that’s quickly building. "I don’t think he’s a member, do you?" you say aloud. "It’s fine, just... just let him go, all right? Let’s go get your ball," Topper suggests, trying to diffuse the situation before it escalates. His voice is calm, but there’s an underlying edge of anxiety.

You scoff, amused by Topper’s attempt at playing peacemaker. "Softening up to the Pogues, are we, Top?" you tease, your tone dripping with mockery. Topper rolls his eyes but doesn’t rise to the bait. "They put a gun to your head, bro," Rafe interjects, his voice hardening as he turns his attention back to Topper.

Your brother remains calm, determined not to escalate things. "That’s fine. It’s fine. Let’s go," he insists, though his voice wavers slightly. You can’t resist needling him further. "Do you still have cocaine in your system right now, or are you being serious? JJ could have easily pulled the trigger on you," you point out, your brow furrowing in disbelief.

Topper avoids your gaze, his lips pressed into a thin line. Rafe’s patience snaps. "Fuck him," he says, his tone final as he spins on his heel and starts marching toward Pope, dragging you along with him. "Hey, Rafe. Rafe! Let’s get your ball, man!" Topper protests, his hand raking through his hair in frustration. "C'mon, Y/n!"

Rafe’s grip tightens around you, his voice low and determined. "I’m gonna show this idiot exactly whose side of the island he’s on," he murmurs against your hair, a proud smirk tugging at his lips. You chuckle, caught up in his confidence as you follow him down the slight hill toward Pope’s path.

"Hey, what’s up, man!" Rafe greets Pope with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, his approach casual but laced with menace. Pope’s face tightens with a mix of fear and anger as he realises he’s outnumbered. "Hey, how much for one of those beers?" Rafe asks, peering into the bags and blocking Pope’s way. You glance over your shoulder, seeing Topper finally catching up.

"They’re not for sale," Pope replies, his voice steady but his eyes darting nervously between Rafe and Topper. You can see the calculation in his mind, weighing his options in the 2 v 1 situation.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait. You can just give us one, then, right?" Rafe suggests, his tone still deceptively friendly as Topper steps up beside him. You stay a few feet back, understanding that this confrontation is theirs to handle.

"Or you can order one, like everybody else," Pope counters, trying to keep his cool. You fight to keep a straight face, impressed by his nerve. Pope attempts to step around Rafe, but Rafe blocks him again, his patience wearing thin.

"Listen. Wait, wait, wait. You’re not listening to me," Rafe says, his voice hardening. "Um… you’ve got so many, bro, and we’ve got nothing." He glances at Topper and then at you, seeking validation. You shrug in mock agreement, playing along with Rafe’s antics.

"Nothin’, man," Topper chimes in, backing Rafe up. Pope holds firm, though. "They’re not even mine. They’re already paid for," he tries to explain, but Rafe isn’t interested in reason.

"Already paid for? What the hell? You probably stole 'em right?" Rafe mutters, grabbing his club and using it to tear open one of Pope’s bags, spilling its contents across the ground. Pope’s eyes widen in disbelief. "What the hell? You owe me for that!" he protests, his voice rising in anger.

Rafe’s chuckle is dark and humorless. "Look, man, I don’t owe you shit, Pogue," he says, stepping closer to Pope, using his height and presence to intimidate. Pope snaps, shoving Rafe back, his anger finally boiling over.

"Buy your own shit!" Pope yells, his face inches from Rafe’s. "Hey, hey, come on, man!" Topper steps in, grabbing Pope by the shoulders, trying to deescalate. "We just want one of these beers! C’mon, just give us one of these—" Topper’s voice is strained as he fights with Pope over the carton.

"You guys are freaking crazy!" Pope shouts, his grip tightening on the beers. The struggle intensifies until Topper, in a burst of frustration, throws Pope to the ground. Pope’s body rolls, stopping just inches from your feet.

"Shit!" Topper curses, surprised by his own actions. You glance down at Pope, who’s groaning in pain at your feet. "Shit, my bad, man," Topper says, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone. Pope groans before pushing himself up, and before you can react, he launches himself at Rafe, who’s ready for him. Rafe’s club swings down, hitting Pope hard and repeatedly until he falls back to the ground.

"Hey! Rafe, Rafe! Come on, man!" your brother shouts, his voice panicked. "Stay down, bitch!" Rafe yells, his anger boiling over. Topper looks at you, desperation in his eyes, but you remain still, blowing a bubble with your gum, unfazed. "Hey, let’s go! Let’s go, man!" Topper insists, trying to pull Rafe back. Rafe ignores him, his rage blinding him as he lifts the club higher, slamming it down near Pope’s head.

Pope groans, blood trickling from his mouth as he lies on the ground. Rafe crouches down, grabbing Pope’s face, forcing him to look at him. "We don’t want you here. Got that?" Rafe’s voice is low and menacing as he pats Pope’s cheek. "Stay off Figure Eight, Pogue," he warns before straightening up and walking away.

"Top, let’s go!" Rafe calls out, not bothering to check if your brother is following. Topper hesitates, his face a mix of shock and disbelief. You don’t move until Rafe is nearly at your side, and then, to everyone’s surprise, you walk past him, heading toward Pope. Rafe stops, watching you with confusion, and Topper’s brows knit together as they both try to figure out what you’re doing.

"I swear to God, Y/n, if Mom finds out that you’re involved—" Topper begins, but you cut him off sharply. "Oh, shut up!" you snap, crouching down to reach for your favorite beer bottle that had fallen from Pope’s bag. "What the fuck is she doing?" you hear Topper mutter, his disbelief clear as he watches you.

Pope watches you silently, his face bruised and bloody. "This could have been so much easier for you if you had just given them the beer," you sigh, noticing the bottle opener clipped to his belt loop. Pope’s eyes flare with anger, but he’s too hurt to do anything. "Fuck. You," he seethes as you pop the bottle open with a practiced flick.

"Cheers!" you smile, taking a sip before standing up and walking back to Rafe and Topper. They’re both stunned, not sure whether to laugh or be shocked by your coldness. "What? It’s my favourite," you pout playfully. Rafe chuckles, clearly impressed as he pulls you back to his side, while Topper scoffs loudly, shaking his head in disbelief.

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mydearzero · 1 year

Note

i need jealous spencer SO BAD if he sees a guy flirting with you it would drive him crazy, no thinking, he just has to have you and everyone needs to know that you're his and only his, smut pls with praise (“good girl” 🥰) THANK U SO MUCH ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for the request and for reading!! I got inspired to write this as a continuation of Prey, so that's what it'll be! I hope you enjoy ♡

Predator | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

This is a part 2 to Prey, but can be read as a standalone.

MASTERLIST

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You apparently have a knack for picking up FBI agents. But if prison has taught Spencer one thing, it's that sharing is not his forté.

Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, SMUT, professor/student relationship, age gap, dom/sub, dom!Spencer, sub!reader, public sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f rec), unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, possessiveness, praise kink, a lil bit of degradation, exhibitionism. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

You didn't know what you'd expected after finally getting what you wanted. Sure, you weren't going to date your professor. Yet, you had expected Reid to at least acknowledge what had happened between the two of you. Maybe tell you to keep it to yourself, bribe you to not tell a soul.

Nothing. Not a peep.

It didn't help he was only on campus sporadically. You tended to forget teaching was only his temporary side gig. He had to go back to catching bad guys. So much for your eye candy.

You couldn't let yourself dwell on Dr. Spencer Reid. It was a one-time thing, and he probably regretted it. He'd let his desires get the best of him.

You sighed as you applied some chapstick, checking your hair in the mirror before turning to put on your coat. It was just drinks with friends, but you were in no mood to be social. You hadn't told them about your stint with Spencer and weren't planning on telling them anytime soon. They just knew you were hung up on someone and would likely try to set you up to help you get over it.

It wasn't fair you were even hung up about it. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just so intriguing. It was hard to see him go. You sighed and locked the door behind you, greeting your friends and getting in the car towards O'Keeffe's.

Loud music, conversation and laughter met your ears as you entered the bar. You threw a quick glance around the crowded room, spotting an open spot at the bar. You got the attention of your friends, pointing to the free space.

Spencer chuckled at one of Penelope's jokes, but his smile quickly dropped as he saw you walk into the team's favourite bar. You obviously hadn't spotted him, engrossed in a conversation with a girl he'd previously seen in his class. He sighed, sipping his drink and trying to pull his attention away from you.

"What is it, Spence?" JJ inquired. He shook his head in dismissal.

"It's nothing, just a couple of students from my class," Spencer explained, letting his eyes wander over your body just this once.

"That doesn't look like nothing, boy wonder," Emily raised an eyebrow, following his gaze.

"Just some unfinished business, is all. Nothing interesting."

Nothing interesting. Spencer scoffed to himself. Even he didn't believe it. He was glad his break from the BAU was over, not having to force himself to ignore your inquiries any longer. He'd been reckless, and now he'd have to live with the consequences. The consequences haunted his mind every time he closed his eyes.

Please, Spencer. Please.

Your desperate words echoed around his head. He should've never given in.

"Do tell more, my inconspicuous sage," Penelope leaned her head on her crossed fingers, a big grin on her face.

"There's nothing to tell, Garcia. They're my students," Spencer shrugged. He had a superb poker face, but nothing could be hidden from his team.

JJ narrowed her eyes at him, trying to figure it out. Emily was way ahead of her, letting out a pleasantly surprised scoff. "You animal! You slept with one of them!"

"Will you keep it down?!" Spencer whisper-yelled. Realizing he hadn't denied it, he looked at the glass in his hands, refusing to meet the girls' eyes.

"I see you, Casanova. Wouldn't have pegged you the type," Penelope laughed. Spencer shook his head.

"Because I'm not! It was a mistake," it was more to convince himself than the others.

"So, which one is it?" JJ questioned, wanting to discuss his type with the girls.

Spencer refused to look in the direction of the bar, not wanting to give anything away. "Can we please just change the subject?"

"No can do, Spence. Now, is it the tall, leggy blonde? Oh! Is it the one talking to the newbie?" That caught Spencer's attention.

"What?" His head snapped up, turning to where you were leaning against the bar, Luke Alvez whispering in your ear. Spencer's grip on his glass tightened as he observed your pleasant smile. He squinted his eyes, trying to make out what Alvez possibly could've said to paint that smile on your face. The smile he'd wrongly presumed was reserved for him.

"Oh, that's the one, alright." Emily laughed. Spencer snapped out of his jealous tunnel vision, trying to appear unaffected by the situation. Damn you, Alvez. He was supposed to go and get drinks, not flirt with girls barely over the legal drinking age. He crossed his arms and tried to tune in on the girls' conversation.

"Look at him, definitely jealous. Crossed arms? Refusing to look in their direction? Chewing the inside of his mouth? Classic signs of jealousy." JJ spoke, gesturing to Spencer's body. He really regretted agreeing to go out.

He watched you throw back the last of your drink, laughing at a story Luke told.

"Do you have any pictures?" You asked. Luke had been telling you all about his Belgian Shepherd, Roxy. You couldn't even remember how the topic came up in the last ten minutes you'd been speaking with him.

Luke was classically handsome. Toned, too. You admired his features, but condemned yourself for comparing them to a certain professor's. You'd approached him as he waited for his drinks, asking if you'd previously met. He looked familiar. You just couldn't put your finger on why. Surely you would've remembered meeting someone as handsome as him.

The mystery man had told you that, no, you hadn't met, but introduced himself as Luke Alvez.

Luke showed you a few pictures of his adorable dog before continuing the conversation. "So, what do you do?"

"I'm a full-time student, currently. You?" You got comfy leaning against the bar, enjoying his company.

"I actually work for the FBI," Luke informed you. You nearly choked on your drink, instantly realizing why he'd been familiar. You'd done your research.

"You wouldn't happen to be a part of the BAU?" You winced.

"Yes, actually! How'd you kn-"

Luke was cut off by a harsh grip on your upper arm. Your head turned, only to find the hand to be attached to the source of your dread.

"Spencer? What are you doing here?" You tried to be casual, but you were panicking. Was he here with Luke? Or was it just a coincidence?

"I could ask you the same thing," Spencer dejected.

"I was actually talking to my new friend Luke here," you tugged your arm out of Spencer's grip, a challenging expression on your face. Luke looked uncomfortable, clearly already having figured out how you'd learned he was a part of the BAU.

"Why do you have to be so fucking diff- No, you know what? I'm not doing this. Let's go," Spencer motioned towards the door of the bar. You furrowed your brows in confusion. First, he wanted nothing to do with you, and now he expected you to just leave with him without question?

"What? No, I'm not leaving. I'm here with friends. Besides, why would I leave with you, Professor?" You questioned. Luke's expression changed to one of surprise. That definitely wouldn't have been his first guess, seeing as you'd called him 'Spencer.'

"Is that Professor Reid? Oh my god, hi!" One of your friends finally noticed what was going down. Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile and half-hearted raise of his hand. Their attention quickly returned to their previous conversation.

Spencer looked agitated, taking a deep breath to recollect his bearings. "Please, just come with me," he pleaded quietly. You crossed your arms and huffed.

"You can't go making demands, Spencer! Not when you've been ignoring me!" You tried to keep your volume down, trying to not give away what had obviously happened.

Luke took that as his queue to leave, but not before earning a nasty look from Spencer. He raised his hands in defence. When Luke returned to the table, he was met with excited whispers from the girls.

"I've never seen him like this," JJ exclaimed. They were all observing as you were arguing with Spencer.

"I take it you know what's going on there?" Luke sat down, putting his beer next to Spencer's unfinished glass.

"Oh, newbie. It's a true scandal. Our resident genius was very jealous of your new lady friend," Penelope clapped her hands together in excitement.

"But she's his student, right?"

"Exactly why it's such a scandal!"

The team observed your body language as well as Spencer's. They noticed your defensive stance, a change from the relaxed one you'd had when talking to Luke. Spencer, too, exuded a different energy. He was clearly in charge of the conversation, domineering stance looking like his second nature. It was clear there was a side to him they hadn't seen, intentionally hidden away.

"Oh Ehm Gee, look!" Penelope clamoured.

Spencer had had enough, dragging you towards the bathroom instead of the door like he'd initially intended. He'd tried to hold back, but you made it so damn difficult.

"Where are we going? Let me go," you struggled in his grip, nearly tripping over your feet as he dragged you to the bathroom.

"You clearly need to be taught a lesson in respect," Spencer spat, pushing you into the women's bathroom and closing the door.

"Stop it, Spencer. You're acting childish," you scoffed, trying to push past him out the door.

"I'm being childish? What was that back there, then? Flirting with my coworker in front of me? That's a new low," Spencer mocked. His body language was hostile and distant. He was feeling worse about it than he was letting on. He clearly had unresolved feelings about your situation, just like you did.

"I didn't even know he was your coworker! Or that you were here! And you've ignored me every time I've tried to talk to you! You don't get to stake some sort of claim over me!" You defended. Did he really expect you to just wait around for him?

"I'm not staking a claim! I just assumed we had an understanding!" Spencer's voice was rising with every sentence he spoke. The small bathroom seemed to only get smaller as he towered over you.

"What understanding, Spencer? We only fucked once," you sneered, rolling your eyes.

"Did you just roll your eyes at me?" Spencer's tone shifted, simmering anger underlined with something you couldn't place. You searched his face for emotion but only found his tightened jaw and eyebrows raised in question.

"So what if I did?" You challenged, crossing your arms. He wasn't backing down, staring into your eyes. You felt your resolve crumble little by little.

"Bend over," Spencer demanded, motioning to the sink with his head.

"I'm not bending over some gross bar sink! Especially not for you," you tried pushing past him again, to no avail. His hands found your upper arms, turning you around and pushing you over the sink.

"You'll listen to me if you know what's good for you," Spencer whispered in your ear. The dampened bass thrumming through the closed bathroom door had nothing on your heartbeat.

You awaited his hands against your ass, but they didn't come. You stayed in the position he'd put you in, waiting. Spencer stepped back, and you didn't dare move a muscle.

"Hmm, good girl. See how easy it is to just listen?" He ran a hand over your back, stopping at the hem of your bottoms. You didn't reply, waiting with bated breath.

"Now, do you remember the rules?" Spencer made eye contact through the mirror. You felt yourself nod before correcting the behaviour.

"Yes, Sir," you were quick to stammer the words.

"Good girl..." Spencer trailed off, hooking his fingers into your waistband and pulling everything down to your ankles, leaving you exposed.

He admired your pussy, kicking your legs apart to give him a better view and access. He wasn't wasting any time this time around. He placed his hands on your ass, squatting down to be at face height with your nethers. You jumped and tried to contain your reaction as he licked a stripe between your folds. Your hand slapped over your mouth, begging nobody could hear what was going down.

"Wait, Spencer. Lock the door," you remembered.

"Shut up. Did I give you permission to speak?" Spencer spoke against the warmth between your legs.

"N-no, Sir," you answered. Your eyes darted to the unlocked door again, anxious someone might walk in. It was a public bar, after all. You wanted to question him. What if someone walked in? But you knew better, keeping your lips sealed.

Spencer resumed with his mouth on your cunt, slowly devouring and driving you crazy. Tremors built in your legs as he sped up his advances. The wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your clit reached your ears, sending blood rushing to your cheeks. You clenched your eyes shut and balled your fists, doing your best to withhold your reactions.

"Fuck..." The soft whimper left your mouth as Spencer sucked harshly on your clit. It was almost enough to send you over the edge. Almost. Spencer seemed to know as much, teasing endlessly. You wanted to beg, plead with him to make you cum, but you knew any words from your mouth would urge him to do the opposite.

The doorknob clicked, and you tried to kick Spencer away from you. His grip on your hips was unwavering as he maintained his eager actions.

The door flew open, and an unknown girl shrieked at the sight before her before quickly backing out the door. You'd hidden your face to the best of your ability, but there was no doubt what was going on. The least you could do to spare your dignity was hide your identity.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest at the intrusion. Even though you hated that you'd gotten caught in such a compromising situation, you couldn't deny it was a little exhilarating to know anybody could walk in at any moment while Spencer had his way with you without a care in the world.

"You liked getting caught, didn't you? That's what little whores like you get off on," Spencer muttered against your pussy. You shook your head, denying his accusation.

Spencer got off the floor, and you met his gaze through the mirror. "No? You didn't like it? Then why'd you get so wet," his words were emphasized by the fingers running through your sensitive folds. You whined at the sensation, biting your lip.

"Fine, have it your way," Spencer sighed, leaning over and finally locking the door. The damage had been done, anyway.

"Get up and turn around," Spencer ordered. You quickly obeyed, spinning to face him. Your ass pressed into the sink as Spencer stepped closer. He observed you for a second, his right hand coming up to cup your cheek in a strangely intimate moment.

He quickly snapped out of it, bringing the hand down to your chin and gripping it tightly. You attempted to beg him to continue without words, but he was taking his sweet time. While his touch was no longer tender, the unexpected kiss he planted on your lips could only be described as delicate. A promise.

His lips quickly moved down your neck, sucking harshly in any open spot he could find. His hand went up to your hair as he put the other on your waist. He tugged strategically, intentionally messing up your put-together appearance. This, combined with the trail of bruises he was leaving on your neck, made one thing clear: He was marking his territory. A fond feeling you wanted to ignore, perhaps to preserve it for later, bloomed in your chest.

Spencer pushed you backwards onto the stone sink. You crossed your fingers it was a sturdy one, knowing what Spencer likely had in mind. He stepped between your opened legs, unbuckling his belt with one hand as the other remained on your thigh, rubbing the skin and driving you crazy.

He reached into his underwear, tugging his rock-hard cock out of its confines. He held it tightly in his fist, stroking it as he kept rubbing his fingers closer and closer to your heat. You would've easily been able to take his teasing if he hadn't left you hanging on the edge with his mouth. The seconds he spent stroking himself lazily as he watched you felt like torturous hours.

Finally, he made contact, tapping the head of his dick against your clit crudely. The sensation made you jerk backwards. He placed his length between your lips, lazily sliding yet never pushing inside. Every time the tip hit your clit with the upwards motion of his hips, a meek noise escaped you.

"What would Luke think if he saw you like this, huh? Think he'd still be all over you if he knew you were such a little slut for me?" He accentuated his words by finally thrusting inside, pulling a moan from your throat.

"Bet you'd like that, huh? Having him walk in here? Have him watch as I ruin your little pussy?" You cried out at his words. You couldn't help but imagine it.

"But you're my good girl, huh?" The slide of his cock against your walls felt phenomenal. You felt yourself tighten at his words. The ridge of his tip got stuck on your entrance, and Spencer chuckled.

"So tight for me. My pussy," he continued pushing inside, ignoring how you squeezed around him.

"Say it," he urged. "Tell me who this pussy belongs to."

"You! Belongs to you, Sir," you whined. You felt your body slowly slip off the sink with every push. You brought your hands to Spencer's shoulders as leverage to keep yourself upright.

"That's right, all mine," Spencer moaned. His voice was raspy. It was the sexiest thing you'd ever had the pleasure of hearing.

"Let me hear you," he coaxed. You took it as permission to finally speak.

"Please, Sir, more," you begged. You no longer had control over your body, throwing your head back and nearly crashing it into the mirror. Your throat was quickly becoming hoarse with the pleas and whines escaping it.

"More what, sweetheart?" The nickname sounded anything but sincere, just like the last time he'd used it in his office.

"Fuck- Spe- Sir, harder, please," you were gradually losing your sanity. Your nails dug into the skin of his neck in desperation.

He fulfilled your request, speeding up the momentum of his hips. You could only hope the music from the bar drowned out the sound of his balls slapping against your cunt with every harsh thrust. The wet squelches coming from where your bodies connected were vulgar.

"Fuck, baby. So good. Such a good girl for me," Spencer babbled as he leaned forward to plant a messy kiss on your lips. You kept him close with the hold on his neck.

You brought your hands up to his delectable locks, tugging harshly when he hit the magic spot inside of you.

"Spencer! Oh my god, please, don't stop," you exclaimed. He continued pounding into you roughly.

"Nobody can fuck you like I can, nobody will make you feel like I do," Spencer groaned. He was right. He'd ruined you for anybody else the second he'd set foot on campus.

"O-oh, shit..." Spencer whimpered. If his rough voice was sexy, then Professor Spencer Reid whimpering in your ear in desperation as he neared his climax was on another level. The filthy whispers and sounds falling from his lips were enough to bring you back to the brink.

"Fuck, Professor," you moaned. It snapped something in Spencer, whose hips stuttered. His pace turned brutal.

"Say that again," he commanded. Who knew his official title would've set him off?

"Please, Professor," you whined. The noises falling from your lips sounded foreign to your ears. Frenzied moans left you as Spencer brought his hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts.

"Good girl," Spencer moaned. "Such a good girl for me." You could tell he was about to cum, mirroring your own predicament.

"Fuck... Let them hear, baby. Tell them who's making you cum," Spencer's hips pressed hard against your own.

"Spencer, oh- shit," you were no longer holding back.

"That's right, cum for me."

His words sent you over the edge, vision momentarily going black as your toes curled. You felt your legs shake as Spencer pushed inside one last time, cock pulsing as he shot his cum deep inside. It was concerning how quickly you'd come to love that specific feeling.

He allowed you a second to catch your breath before he pulled out of you, tucking himself back into his pants and buckling his belt. He wasted no time, gathering some toilet paper from one of the stalls and carefully cleaning you up. He threw the paper in the toilet and flushed it, turning his attention back to you.

He bent down, placing a peck on your mound. "All mine."

You scoffed at the action, pushing him away. "You sap."

"Caught me," Spencer smiled softly, helping you off the sink. You pulled your bottoms back up, cringing at the wet feeling of his cum trickling down.

"Spencer, I can't go out there like this," you gestured to your exterior.

"You can and you will, c'mon," he placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you to the exit. You did your best to rearrange your clothes to look somewhat presentable, but there was only so much you could do with your dishevelled appearance. The messy hair, ruined makeup and blotches splattered over your neck would be enough to give away what had happened.

Your eyes searched the bar for your friends, but they were nowhere to be seen. You grabbed your phone, and with all the notifications, your suspicions were confirmed. They'd left without you.

"Spencer, can you drive me home?" You tried turning to him, but he kept pushing you to the table where his team and Luke were still seated. Luke wolf-whistled at your appearance. You tried to shrink into yourself or to hide behind Spencer, but he wouldn't allow it. This clearly was some kind of dick-measuring contest to him.

Spencer sat down next to Emily, pulling you into his lap. "Knock it off already. They get it," you groaned.

"So, you're taking Spence's class? How's that working out for you?" The blonde next to Luke questioned. Spencer put a drink in front of you. You didn't question its contents, taking a sip before answering.

"Well, I guess we had some disagreements over some of my work, but it seems we've found a way to work that out," you joked. There was no use in being sheepish about it. Spencer had made very sure they understood exactly what your dynamic was.

"So it seems." Luke chuckled. You gave him an apologetic smile. He shrugged it off, raising his glass to clink it against yours.

Spencer's arm around you tightened. He'd 100% gotten his message across, but that didn't mean he liked you talking to Luke, or anybody, for that matter. If there's one thing Spencer learned from prison, it would be that sharing definitely wasn't his forté. Especially not you. No... You were all his.

2K notes · View notes

ja3yun · 6 months

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Melting Point | P.SH | CH.8

brother's rival!sunghoon x fem!reader warnings: angst, smut (mdni), unprotected sex, fingering, rose toy, multiple orgasms, confrontation, ynhee's mum (she's a warning all in herself), anything else lmk! ch. 8 synopsis: the weekend of nationals is finally here and there's a buzz in the air but of course, nothing can run as smoothly as you plan. sunghoon lets you in on minhee and his private conversation, leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place. wc: 13.6k previous | masterlist | next a/n: hi! i cannot believe melting point ends NEXT WEEK like wdym :( this chapter really explains everything you need to know about the story and everything w the mum so this is an important one <3 thank you all so much for the love. as always i really value your feedback/comments/likes/reblogs. nothing makes me happier than reading your theories and comments, thank you so much! pls enjoy.

Heaving your case, you start to wonder if you packed too much for the weekend. It’s not like you meant to cram in 6 different outfits, 3 pairs of shoes, and every piece of makeup you own - you just wanted to be extra prepared; that and you’re indecisive.

It’s finally Nationals weekend which means everything the boys have been working so hard for is here, only 2 days away. Technically, they should have been in Seoul already but you had a prelim exam today so they both waited for you to be finished before heading out.

The decision wasn’t your favourite, considering they’re missing parts of the press conferences and extra training but they assured you it was the easiest scapegoat out of travelling with the coaches and answering the usual ‘ideal type’ and ‘boyfriend’ questions that get thrown at them.

Considering they were top athletes, you would think the reporters would have more intelligent questions. Sunghoon had told you the last press event he did, the reporters just decided to try and ask him questions he knew would make him look arrogant and cocky with both women and on the ice.

It irks you how everyone has this preconceived perception about the man you love who would bend over backwards to make people happy. He says it doesn’t bother him and therefore it shouldn’t burden you but that's your man and he’s being slandered over news websites, it’s only right you get a little annoyed.

You can hear Sunghoon now as you think about it, telling you “at least I can back up my massive ego with a first place”, and he’s right, but it still doesn’t make you any more okay with it.

Presently, you’re walking down your campus path to the main road, on the way to meet both Minhee and Sunghoon. Somehow, you’ve managed to convince them to drive to the competition together. It took Minhee more convincing than Sunghoon, his biggest objection being you and your boyfriend all over one another.

There’s a mastermind plan to your reasoning; you want them to get along and forcing them in a close proximity for more than 3 hours seems like the best way to do it. Well, you’ve convinced yourself it’s the best way. Plus, you can try and pry out of them what they were talking about the other day in the coach’s office.

Looking ahead, you see Sunghoon and Minhee talking, or rather bickering about something.

This might be harder than you thought.

“You are NOT driving my baby, she doesn’t need your hands all over her,” you hear Sunghoon say, arms crossed in defence.

“Come on, man! It’s a 3-hour drive and you look tired. I’ll take the wheel and you go for a sleep in the back,” Minhee retorts, pleased with himself for his reasoning; yet, Sunghoon doesn’t budge, adamant that your brother will never get the driver’s seat.

It’s oddly refreshing to see them argue about something so trivial and not try to tear each other’s character down. They’re nipping at one another like friends do. You and Rina have had your fair share of minisode arguments about throwaway things like this so seeing them do the same makes you smile.

However, you will stop it, just in case Sunghoon gets too riled up - you know how he can get when it comes to his car. You spilled the tiniest bit of your blueberry juice on the seat and he nearly crashed into the traffic light. He’s very dramatic and overly protective.

“Mini, if you drive, I’ll just make out with Hoon in the back the whole drive there,” you laugh.

Your boys turn around at the sudden sound of your voice, both wearing different expressions. Sunghoon’s face upturns into brightness as he sees you, his arms come undone, and his body visibly relaxes. He looks as handsome as ever with his hair styled and smart-casual outfit; grey-collared sweater with black pressed trousers.

Minhee on the other hand is disgusted at the thought of you climbing all over your boyfriend for hours on end. He’s wearing some jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and a brown leather jacket, it’s his typical choice but he suits it.

Taking your luggage, Sunghoon whispers a ‘hey’ into your lips as he kisses you tenderly. The display of affection only makes Minhee fake gag, “Suddenly, I don’t want to drive anymore,” your brother scoffs, yielding his earlier argument in trade for some peace from the love parade.

You let out a light laugh, moving from Sunghoon to hug Minhee, “You’ve made the right choice,” the airiness in your voice matches the contentment you feel as he hugs you, ruffling your hair in the process.

While Sunghoon puts your case in the boot, grunting about how heavy it is, you take the opportunity to warn Minhee, “Please be nice to him, okay? I want you both to get along.” It’s a simple request but the seriousness in your eyes conveys everything Minhee has to know.

"I'll tolerate him," he pinches your cheek and offers you an understanding smile when he notices your harsh expression, "Okay, I promise I'll be on my best behaviour." He enters the car with hands raised in faux defence.

You knew he'd behave even before you warned him, but you had to do it since the temptation to fall back into habit might be too strong for both of them. That is why Minhee isn't the only one whom you are warning.

As you walk up to Sunghoon, he closes the trunk with a soft thud, "Can you try getting along with Mini today? It'd mean a lot to me if you guys could at least give friendship a shot," you gently suggest.

"I'll do my best to make us leave here best buddies," Sunghoon replies with fake enthusiasm, "But baby, I gotta tell you, the drive here wasn't great. Did you know he sticks his foot up on the seat? Made things pretty uncomfortable for my girl," he says, giving the car's rear a pat, still bothered by Minhee's lack of respect for the second most important girl in his life.

Your brother wasn’t always the best at reading a situation and considering it’s the first time he was in Sunghoon’s car, he should have been a little more gracious. But he’s Minhee, that’s just how he is.

“Did you tell him not to do it?” you ask, looking through the back window to see the back of your brother’s head.

“Obviously, he just ignored me,” Sunghoon feigns a pain in his heart, “It was tragic.”

His dramatic act earns him an eye roll and no reaction, “I will tell him if he does it.”

With the promises sealed up with one more kiss, you both clamber into your respective seats, ready for the long journey ahead.

The roads are busier than normal, a traffic jam on the motorway is going to add an extra 25 minutes to your time. You don’t mind it, given you're not the one driving, but Sunghoon is getting impatient, the fingers on his left hand tapping on the wheel while his right hand subconsciously grips your thigh, using you like his personal stress ball.

Minhee couldn’t be more relaxed, his body has somehow managed to lounge himself over the back seat, phone in his hand as he plays house flipper.

“We should put on the radio or something, might make this go in faster,” you suggest, already reaching for the screen. None of them complain, too busy in their own worlds to notice. This car drive was supposed to bond them and so far the only conversation they have had was to text the coaches and let them know they would be late; hardly riveting.

The speakers quietly play the sound of Sza’s Kill Bill which has both of them bobbing their heads. Even just the addition of music has made the car feel less awkward.

You don’t want to force them to be friends but you also want to say you tried to meld them together in some capacity. These two men are the most precious people in your life and if they don’t get along, your plan to hang out together will be foiled. Even worse, your secret scheme to have Sunghoon over for Christmas dinner would also be ruined. Christmas is already tense enough never mind adding in two people who can’t even speak to one another.

The next song that plays makes Minhee sit up sharply and you whip your head around to look at him.

Maybe it's the way she walked

Singing the song at each other, you and your brother showcase your sibling brain cells by belting out your joined karaoke song. It was unintentional and you don’t remember specifically how it happened, but one day One Direction’s Best Song Ever became the song you would sing together at every function, both of you staying up late to learn the dance and all the dialogue lines. Minhee swore blindly that he would make a better Liam/Leroy than you but you proved him wrong pretty quickly.

The abrupt change in atmosphere jolts Sunghoon to look at you both wildly while you both sing loudly. He does note how Minhee can actually sing and you, well, you’ve got spirit. The smile on his face gradually gets bigger, the happiness between the siblings infecting him.

And we danced all night to the best song ever

We knew every line, now I can't remember

He hasn’t seen you get this excited in a while, the pressure of keeping too many secrets from too many people had a weighted effect on you, yet, now that’s gone, you look as light as a feather, enjoying your life free of guilt and shame, a life where you have Minhee by your side and him on the other.

If it’s the last thing he does, he will make sure to become friends with Minhee by the end of the weekend.

The makeshift choreo you and Minhee created for the verses comes back easily, both your arms flapping around the place, hairography and all the rest of it. The laughter filtering through Minhee’s singing makes you feel like you’re finally home.

Minhee extends a metaphorical microphone to Sunghoon, attempting to draw him into your shared joy. It's not a conscious effort, but rather a natural inclination to include him in this moment, making him feel like a part of the Kang family, even if just for a song. There was also a tiny bit of him hoping Sunghoon had the worst voice out of the three of you, giving him something to slag him about.

“Nope, sorry, I don’t sing,” Sunghoon protests, moving his focus to the ever-so-slowly moving traffic.

“Come on, Hoonie, you know the words! You already told me you were a Louis girl,” you chuckle, also holding out your pretend microphone to join Minhee.

With the Kang siblings eagerly awaiting his participation, Sunghoon relents, quietly joining in the singing. His voice isn’t loud, he’s cautiously singing the song with you and Minhee, letting you both take the lead on it. He appreciates the effort Minhee made to involve him but this is also clearly you and Minhee’s joint thing, he doesn’t want to intervene too much.

However, that’s not sitting with any of you, “Sunghoon put some chutzpah into it!” Minhee encourages.

Minhee is trying his best, the once subconscious act is now intended, he wants you to know he’s trying to get along with your boyfriend despite their past. You deserve that much.

There’s a glimmer of amusement in Sunghoon’s eyes as he gets sucked into the infectious energy of the moment and becomes more vocal. What neither you nor Minhee expects is for Sunghoon’s voice to be as good as it was. You had heard him sing maybe once in the shower but you weren’t paying attention, not like now. Now he has your full attention, leaving him and your brother to harmonise together.

As Niall's part comes on, Minhee playfully nudges your arm, signalling your turn to sing, a cue you eagerly follow. At that moment, the confines of the car seem to expand, enveloping you all in a bubble of pure bliss and laughter. It's something you want to etch into your memory, a snapshot of unfiltered happiness that you'll treasure forever.

The final lines of the song resonate through the air, and a sense of contentment settles over you all, transforming the cold winter morning outside into something warm and inviting, much like a spring day.

Minhee reaches over and pats Sunghoon on the shoulder, offering him a genuine compliment. "You've got a set of pipes on you, mate," he remarks, devoid of any tension, prompting a surprised look from you.

“Thanks, you’re not that bad of a singer either,” your boyfriend relays.

“Nah, it’s just singing next to her I sound like Adele or something,” Minhee pokes fun at you like always, clearly amusing Sunghoon because he just laughs and nods along. Honestly, if making some lighthearted jokes about your singing is the thing that makes them friends, you’ll allow it.

The rest of the car journey is now filled with chatter, mostly you and Minhee reminiscing about your upbringing, telling Sunghoon all the stories that embarrass one another while he drives you closer to the city.

Sunghoon enjoys the way you two interact, it shows him why you were so determined not to hurt Minhee for all those months, putting aside your own happiness for him. Whenever competitions happened, he got to see you and Minhee’s relationship from the sidelines and that made him a little envious.

Ice skating has always been so lonely for him with no time to make friends with fellow skaters because his mum would be pulling him away to go home or keep him on the ice while everyone else went to get a sweet treat after training. His mum made him so lonely that she was the only one he could rely on.

That was until now. Jay and Jake were always there for him but it’s harder for them to understand since they aren’t in the sport directly, whereas you and Minhee both have grown up in the same gruelling surroundings as him.

Sunghoon’s jealousy grew the more he saw Minhee, the loving sister, the nice coach, even a little less toxic of a mother, granted his opinions of her have wildly changed now that he knows everything. But even with that, Minhee seemed to have it all - he had everything Sunghoon wanted.

He would trade in every trophy for a little stability, for his dad to still be alive, to have someone devoted to him no matter what. That’s why when he saw you all those years ago, he knew you had to be in his life.

The hatred he had towards your brother stemmed from his mother’s toxic whispers planting little nuggets of rumours and lies to make him hate Minhee, yet, as he looks at both of you now, he knows it wasn’t hatred, it was envy. And when Minhee said he couldn’t ask you out when he was a teenager, it fuelled anger in him for hogging you.

Your love and kindness shouldn’t be confined to your brother.

But like you said the other day, Minhee was scared to lose you and Sunghoon understood that feeling all too well now.

Enclosing your hand in his, Sunghoon threads his fingers with yours, longing for contact after his brain even thought about you not being with him, even for a second.

You twist your neck to look at Sunghoon, fondly smiling at him. Watching his eyes shake, you know he’s thinking about something that requires your touch; he always did this, no matter the issue big or small, like having you there was enough for him to brush through the knots in his brain and sort it out.

It felt so amazing to be so needed and loved like this.

Minhee interrupts the silent show of love and points out the windshield, “Looks like they know we’re coming,” he sighs as reporters hover outside the hotel entrance, cameras hanging at their sides while they chat about nothing.

Sunghoon and Minhee are used to this but today is the day they’ll make a spectacle over them. For the first time in history, the two rivals are arriving together and not just that, they’re both a day late. It’s the perfect opportunity for them to sniff around and fabricate some sort of story, you’re just scared of what.

Pulling up to the front of the hotel, the reports poise their camera to get the money shot, they don’t know they’re in for a goldmine,

“Remember, head down, no comments, and just get in there,” Sunghoon instructs, earning a scoff from your brother.

“Nah, you can do that, I’m the pleasant prince, I pander to my audience,” Minhee smiles proudly.

This is where they differ in so many ways, how their brands set them apart. You have to say, you’re surprised Minhee is keeping the Princess Diana brand your mum created considering he hates it so much. Then again, it has created more opportunities for him regarding public events and ads.

Your mum was a witch but she knew what she was doing.

It does pose the big question: where is Mum? Is she already here? There has been zero communication between both of you since the phone audio incident, it was sickening to look at her for too long, not that she was home a lot of the time anyway.

However, right now isn’t about her.

“I think Sunghoon might be right, Mini. They’ll hound you about why you and Hoonie are together,” you put forward, hoping he sees your point. But Minhee is Minhee, he loves being in the spotlight.

“It’s all good, Bubs. I got this,” Minhee pats your head, trying to bounce some reassurance into your brain.

Sunghoon is quick to jump in, “No. Minhee, you keep Y/N safe. There’s no way they won’t push and shove for a picture and if one of them touches her I swear to god, Minhee, it’ll be your head on the hotel pole,” his voice is strong and shoulders are wide and sturdy as he speaks.

You suppress the urge to bite your lip as Sunghoon talks, trying not to give away how much his protectiveness turns you on, although, as much as you’re trying to focus your face on staying neutral, your pussy is meowing out for him, the pants you're wearing sticking to you a little.

“Don’t tell me how to protect my sister, okay, I’ve been with her my whole life, you’ve only got a couple of months under your belt,” Minhee retorts, tone annoyed at the accusation that he would do anything other than put your safety first.

If there was one thing that would make them argue, it’s over you.

“Guys, let's just focus on getting into the lobby, okay? No pandering, and no punching,” you point to them for their retrospective warnings. You seem to be intimidating enough because they fall back from their tense gazes and start to unbuckle their seatbelts.

When you step out, the cameras click rapidly, a few flashes getting in your eyes which Minhee’s hand reaches over to protect you from, one hand wrapped around your shoulder and the other covering your eyes. The shutters are more intense once they see Sunghoon coming around from the other side of the car.

A few gasps and ‘whoas’ can be heard as your boyfriend catches up to you both. As soon as that happens, all hell breaks loose.

Sunghoon! Are you finally changing your ways?

Minhee, did you steer Sunghoon away from his reckless life?

I’d watch out, Minhee, Sunghoon might be after your little sister next.

The last one creates tension between the boys on either side of you, as soon as you’re mentioned they both want to physically leap over and slap the journalist silly. You don’t like the inclination either, the idea that Sunghoon would just use you for his own gratification.

Did the reporter say it outright like that? No, but all three of you knew that’s what he meant.

Minhee gracefully bows and smiles as he leads you through the reporters, thanking the ones who respected your need for space.

Sunghoon, on the other hand, remains cold, his look as frosty as usual, displaying little tolerance for the paparazzi's intrusive behaviour. Despite his apparent displeasure, he followed his own advice: keep a low profile and push ahead.

Once the chaos subsides, Minhee gently withdraws from your side, placing a comforting hand between your shoulder blades as he guides you further into the foyer. The interior wasn’t anything fancy; adorned with beige walls, plush couches occupied by guests, and a reception desk manned by two staff.

“Are you alright?” Minhee’s concern was palpable as he peered into your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort or vision loss. The flashes were extra bright today.

You shake your head, offering reassurance, “I’m fine, it wasn’t too bad, certainly could have been worse.”

The hotel staff promptly retrieves your luggage from the car, each of your party expressing gratitude. Minhee also hands them a tip, slipping in a signature wink as he did so.

Sunghoon huffs beside you, stroking the back of your head, “Fucking ridiculous. They’re acting like they haven’t seen us before,” he states, the patting of your head getting rougher the more he thinks about it, “Heard one of them call us Blades of Glory.”

Minhee lets out a loud laugh, clapping his hands in amusement. The other boy didn’t find anything funny about the situation.

The receptionist checks you all in, a room for you and Minhee, and a room for Sunghoon. He had a double room to himself since his mum wasn’t coming.

One thing Sunghoon refuses to speak about is his relationship with his mum, as far as you’re concerned, they haven’t spoken since the argument a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes when you look at your boyfriend when he is training, you wish he had her there. He assures you it’s for the best but you do mourn it a little, hoping they could patch up their relationship and start anew with him as her son, and her as his mother; no manager roles and athlete, just family love.

Sunghoon isn’t so sympathetic to the situation. Sure, he misses having her around but that’s just because it’s a habit, plus, she was his manager and having to navigate everything on his own was becoming overwhelming, but he’ll manage.

Sadly, he doesn’t even miss her as a mother figure.

Luckily, you’re all on the same floor just 4 doors apart. Once you reach your respective rooms, you kiss Sunghoon, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down to you. His hands run up your back, accidentally picking up your jacket and t-shirt in the process, the feeling of his fingertips leaving a warm trail in their absence.

Sunghoon smiles into the kiss, dipping his tongue into your mouth to taste you. He could do this all day, and some days he has, but this time you have your brother impatiently waiting for you both to untangle yourselves.

“Enough, that’s disgusting,” he retches, fake poking a finger down his throat, “Are you guys always like this or is it your attempt at torturing me?”

Pecking Sunghoon’s lips one more time, you plant your feet back on the ground and face Minhee, “You’re so dramatic. I can kiss my boyfriend whenever I want to,” you sarkily reply.

“Not in front of me you can’t,” he mumbles, face holding an expression of disdain for you and your boyfriend's PDA. He doesn’t protest further, instead unlocking your room and waiting for you to get inside.

Hugging you from the back, Sunghoon leans down, “Come to my room tonight? And the night after, and the night after,” between each request, he kisses your neck, each one lingering a little longer than the last.

The butterflies in your tummy never settle when he’s around and the love in your heart only gets stronger, “I’ll pop in tonight but I promised Minhee I would spend the night before Nationals with him, it’s kind of a thing we have.”

Before every big competition, you and your brother pick a TV show, grab a few face masks and play smash or pass with the cast. You came up with it randomly one night and it stuck ever since, helping him to relax and you to eye up whatever Song Kang drama you manage to persuade him to watch with you.

Nodding, Sunghoon smiles, spinning you to face him, “Sure, makes sense you guys would have a ritual or whatever,” there’s a tiny hint of sadness in his voice which throws you a little.

“I can ask Minhee to swap it to tonight?” you propose but Sunghoon shakes his head quickly.

“No, no. Do your sibling stuff-”

“You’re welcome to come,” Minhee’s voice interjects behind you. It’s strange how quickly Minhee is accepting Sunghoon into your routines and quirks; first it was the song in the car and now this, “You don’t have to but it would suck for you to be on your own the night before a competition.”

You want to ask what happened to your brother and why a clone has taken over his body, but this is exactly what you wanted, so why fight it?

“I don’t know, seems like your thing, I don’t want to just jump into it,” Sunghoon scratches the back of his hand, a habit he has when he’s nervous. In this instance, it’s cute.

“If I’m inviting you, it’s not you ‘jumping in’ is it? Plus, you get to see your precious girl drool over other men right in front of you,” you nudge your brother's stomach with your elbow before explaining to Sunghoon your plans and that you absolutely do NOT fawn over other men.

Everyone knows it’s a lie.

“Then yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Minhee,” Sunghoon is genuinely appreciative of the offer. He’s never had anyone to do things like this with, usually opting to just rest up and force himself to sleep early.

Minhee nods, “Great, just don’t be all kissy and touchy, it’s gross.”

A ping hits Minhee’s phone and as he reads the message, his once relaxed face turns tense, “It’s mum. Wants to take us out for dinner after the press conference,” he doesn’t bother replying, locking his mobile and stuffing it back in his jean pocket.

You don’t want to go to dinner with her, or even see her. Truthfully, you hoped she just wouldn’t turn up, “Do we have to go?”

The pout on your face is exaggerated, your eyes pleading with Minhee to say fuck it and not go, however, he doesn’t give in to you, “I suppose.”

Looking at Sunghoon, they do that stare again, the same one when they came out from their secret conversation at Belmore. They nod to one another, making you even more confused.

Before you can pipe up and ask, Sunghoon gives you one more kiss, “I’ll see you later, baby,” and with that, he retreats to his hotel room. Your boyfriend was probably your best chance at getting information, Minhee is too strong and wouldn’t slip up as easily, so you leave it to rest, hoping that it’s nothing too serious.

One thing is for certain, you know it’s about your mum.

_____

“Can we steal the soap?” Minhee pops his head around the bathroom door, eyes gleaming with mischief.

You and Minhee are resting up after the press conference. All in all, the reporters asked straightforward enough questions, intrigued by Minhee's secret routine and the promised 'surprise' he hinted at. Of course, you've witnessed the routine firsthand and are eagerly anticipating everyone else to experience it with the same amount of awe as you did.

To your surprise, there were just two questions concerning Sunghoon: one asked whether Minhee and Sunghoon were now friends, and the other asked if Minhee was afraid of his rival. Minhee's reaction to both was a solid 'no', however you think the first answer might change.

You sit up on your bed, rolling your eyes in dismissal of your brother’s question, “No, Mini, we can’t steal the soap.” The one thing about Minhee was that he loved a freebee, and you too honestly but you draw the line on bath soaps that you know no one will use and just collect dust in your toilet back home.

“But if I put it in my case and hide these ones, the staff will need to give us replacements,” he says, showing you the tiny bottle of liquid soap as a way to entice you to agree with him.

"Let me guess, then you'll swipe those too?" you retort, crossing your arms.

Minhee nods eagerly. "Of course!" he says it with such conviction, as if you're missing out on a golden opportunity for more soap.

As you get up, you snatch the bottle from his hand and head to return it to its rightful spot. "I'll just buy you some soap, alright? Let's leave these here. If there's any left, we'll take it home." Sometimes, you feel like you take over the role of your mother when you have these talks with Minhee.

"Fine," he grumbles, flopping onto the mattress. "I'll just ask Sunghoon to swipe me some then."

You whip around at the mention of your boyfriend's name, watching as Minhee starts tapping away on his phone. It's like entering the twilight zone.

"You guys text now?" you ask incredulously, eyebrows raised

“Only for important things,” he mumbles, too busy planning a scheme to get Sunghoon on board with his ideas.

You try to imagine in what world hotel soap is important.

If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that your brother and boyfriend were actually getting along, and not just that, that most of the initiation was from Minhee, you would have cackled in your face. There was no chance in hell of that happening, yet, there is it. All those months of worrying about both of them, the arguments, the fighting, the hatred, all washed away so quickly.

Sunghoon and Minhee aren’t best friends, they tolerate one another; that’s what they are telling themselves at least. Your brother asked for Sunghoon’s number after the conference to ‘keep an eye on him’ but you knew better than that.

Minhee wanted to be his friend because he knew if he did, you would be happy. Everything in his life, he does for you.

A ping sounds from his phone, and a wicked smile spreads across his face, “Ha! See, your boy is on board!” he shows you the text message from Sunghoon which reads ‘If you get the soap, I’ll grab the shampoo and conditioner. We go halfsies?’

“You’re both ridiculous,” you quip, pushing Minhee’s phone away from you.

You can’t deny the warm feeling in your chest as you watch Minhee laugh at his phone, the friendship between them both blossoming in front of your very eyes.

A loud knock on the door startles you both, your hand reaching for your chest at the fright. Was it really necessary for someone to bang the door so ferociously at 5pm, especially when the hotel rooms are already small, echoing the vibrations around the walls?

Minhee stands up, making his way to answer rudely to the person on the other side for almost giving him a heart attack; however, when he opens the door, the last person on earth you want to see barges through your door.

“Ugh, can you believe they’ve put me in a room on the other side of the hotel away from you? Took me 10 minutes just to get here,” your mum huffs, blowing her fringe out of her flushed face. She looks like she’s just run the London Marathon, not walked across a lobby and rode the lift.

It’s amazing how one woman can change the atmosphere of the room. The once happy and carefree vibe you and Minhee were basking in has now been sucked out, replaced with a heavy cloud of anguish.

There’s an anxiety creeping up into your chest as you face your mum for the first time since that day. You were unequipped to handle the situation because of her sudden presence, thinking you would at least have a few hours before she requested you for dinner.

But she’s here, right now, and you have to face this head-on.

She clasps her hands together and spins to face Minhee and yourself, “I have news,” she exclaims, delighted with whatever information she is about to share.

A quick glance at Minhee and you both share the same sceptical expression. He steps closer to you, hoping that you can find some comfort in his presence, which you do but this is also your conniving mother you’re both faced with, anything can fall past her lips, and that makes this ten times more nerve wracking.

“After Sunghoon pulled that god-awful scheme - so sorry, Y/N,” her words speak of condolences yet her tone is anything but sympathetic, “I have found something else.” The delight on her face makes you feel sick. You know Mrs. Park is the biggest cause for this rivalry, so why is she so intent on bringing Sunghoon down to the lowest pits of hell and back?

You nor Minhee have told your mum that you know the audio of Sunghoon was AI-generated, or that you and Sunghoon are back to being as in love with each other as ever, in fact, she might have brought you closer together. Her little plan actually got you and Sunghoon to promise to be one hundred percent honest with each other, especially about your feelings for one another.

Sunghoon meant it when he said he wanted to start fresh, a clean slate, but for him that just meant professing his love to you all over again, determined to make sure you never doubted his true intentions for you ever again. Of course, you did the same, telling him how you would trust him and your relationship before anything else because why on earth do you have any reason not to?

“What are you talking about?” Minhee is the first to speak between you, taking the lead as your bigger brother. He didn’t know what she had up her sleeve but he wouldn’t believe a spoken syllable that came from her mouth; not anymore.

Happily, your mother picks out her phone from her handbag and searches for something. There is a sickening feeling rising in your stomach again, the deja vu washing over you. Minhee senses your unease and rubs your back softly, and as you turn your attention to him, he shakes his head, assuring you that whatever you are going to see will be fabricated.

However, as she passes your brother the phone, you see a video waiting to load and see a familiar-looking lawn.

Oh no.

As Minhee hits play, you see Sunghoon’s fist connect with that boy's face, the same boy that touched you, the night you called him to come get you. The sickness that had stilled before has now reached the tip of your throat, your heart pounding outside your chest only making it boil more.

This is real, this isn’t fake.

The scene in the video is so strange because as you hear your cries for him to stop, you don’t remember it that well. You knew he punched fuck out of the guy but you hadn’t really visually recalled it in your memory, yet, it was like living the feeling all over again.

Your brother watches the video with the same shock and horror as you do, except, he is more concerned by your shrieks in the background. When was this? He ponders to himself, confused as he continues to see Sunghoon beat the boy down. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought Sunghoon killed him. Fuck, he genuinely might have as far as Minhee is concerned.

He recognises the boy in the video, having had a few altercations with Yeonjun and his team himself over the years, so he knows that whatever caused this ruthless beating, it was probably something bad.

“W-where did you get this?” you ask tentatively. If your mother has seen it, anyone could have.

With a glint of victory, she answers, “Facebook of all places! I was just scrolling and someone shared it,” she shrugs, leaving you to battle with the information that your boyfriend's attempt to protect you might be the very cause of his downfall. You recall something he said not too long ago,

“Everything wrong in my life seems to be because of your family.”

Sunghoon spoke those words and you knew they were true, yet, you hoped it excluded you, but this just proves you’re just as bad as your mother.

Minhee feels your distress beside him, your body shaking slightly as you continue to watch the video. He doesn’t know what happened or why but he knows you’re traumatised by it. He stops the video, locking the phone abruptly, “Mum, what does this have to do with anything? This is just a video of him punching that guy from the hockey team,” Minhee tries to downplay it, hoping and praying your mum hasn’t already done something drastic with the video.

“I’m taking it to the board, obviously. He can’t get away with causing violence,” your mum speaks. You take the time in the silence that surrounds the room to wonder if she would be so eager to share the video if she knew why Sunghoon was on his knees, beating the guy to a pulp.

Minhee shakes his head definitely, “No, mum, you’re not,” his voice wavers; this is the first time he has stood up to your mum in such a long time. Her claws were usually so deep into your brother that he stood back and took it, but not any more.

“Huh?” your mum asks perplexed, head tilted to the side in curiosity, “Don’t you see, Minhee, this is how we guarantee you the win, they might let him skate but nullify his points. Remember what we have on the line,” she tries to be secretive but you already know what she’s talking about.

“Stop! Just stop trying to interfere with this, with my skating, with the Parks. Just fucking stop.” The sudden rise in Minhee’s voice makes you jump but he is quick to rub your back again, trying to prove his determination to make this right, for all the times he let her puppeteer him into doing her dirt work.

He breathes out, “I told Y/N everything, and I told Sunghoon. We also know that the phone call was fake and that you’re nothing but a pathetic excuse for a mother,” his voice is venomous, the words harshly leaving his mouth.

Your mum is silent, not even her breath can be heard amidst Minhee’s speech, “You’ve done nothing but hurt us since dad left, constantly blaming me for putting you in debt, never acknowledging your daughter or any of her achievements. I won’t stand here and let you do this anymore.”

“But Minhee-”

“No, you listen to me. I will win on Saturday and when I do, take all the money you get from this shitty bet and fuck off out of our lives, understood?” You stare at the ground with wide eyes, scared to look up and see the anger in Minhee’s face, his voice being scary enough.

It’s unlike your brother to get this angry, you thought the extent of his rage peaked when he confronted you about your relationship with Sunghoon. But this is much worse, more dangerous.

Then again, this is also years of being told you owe your career and livelihood to someone who only uses it against you would also take its toll on you.

Sucking in a breath, your mum moves forward, “What are you talking about, baby boy. I’m your mother,” she tries to soften him up but it won’t work. He’s too far gone in his rage.

“No, you’re not. From this point on, you’re no one’s mum. When you get your winnings, take them and never speak to me or Y/N again. I am sick to the back teeth of you putting unnecessary pressure on me, getting me involved in all this mess with Sunghoon. Not to mention how you’ve been treating Y/N the past few months.”

“You can’t kick me out of my own family!” she protests, all acts of sorrow gone in a flash, replaced with fury.

“I just have. I’m moving out, I’m taking Y/N with me, and this is the last you will see us,” Minhee’s chest is closing in on itself as he finally loses all cool, ready to give your mum everything that’s been waiting for her.

Exhaling, your mum yields, nodding disapprovingly, “You make sure I get my money. You brats deserve nothing considering the life I provided for you both.”

That last sentence confirmed everything you two already knew, it was always about the money. Part of you wonders if it was always about the money, or if that was just something at came along the way. For your peace of mind, you hope it’s the latter.

Despite her ways, you like to believe she did love you guys at some point, and deep down still does.

The tension in the room is so thick, it’s choking you, causing you to clam up and stay silent. You want to say so much; how she never gave you both anything, that it was your dad who set you both up with your lives, how she took away your happiness and put the relationship with the love of your life in jeopardy. You wanted to shout and scream at her, but it was useless. She won’t listen, her face beat red.

Without uttering another word, she goes to leave the room, snatching her phone back, but Minhee isn’t done, “Oh, and don’t think for a second of showing that video to any of the skating board, or else I’ll turn myself in about Sunghoon’s skate and tell the police exactly what you’ve been up to.”

Both you and your mother exchange fearful glances – you, worried for Minhee's cherished career, and your mother, concerned about her potential loss of status and wealth.

Clicking her tongue in irritation, your mother scoffs, shaking her head. "You wouldn’t dare," she argues, trying to convince herself as much as her son.

"Try me. I have nothing left to lose," he retorts.

"You wouldn’t sacrifice your Olympic dreams," she counters smugly, believing she's won the argument.

"I would sacrifice anything for my sister's happiness, a concept you clearly can't grasp."

Your eyes fill with emotion as Minhee's words sink in. Could he really be prepared to give up his dream just to protect you from your mother? To safeguard you from any potential harm. As you lock eyes with your brother, a deep realisation sweeps over you: absolutely, he would.

Your mother walks out of the room in a disappointed huff, leaving behind a heavy atmosphere packed with unresolved tension. Left alone with Minhee, you both silently battle with the weight of the dramatic event that just took place, processing it all in your own way.

As the echoes of your mother's departure fade, a solemn stillness settles over the room, punctuated only by the sound of your shared breaths. You and Minhee exchange a wordless glance, each grappling with the weight of the confrontation that has unfolded.

“The video…you were there. What the fuck was that about?” Minhee questions, his voice not quite accusatory, but still webbed in anger. Honestly, you should have expected it, the bloody scene would be a cause of concern to anyone and after he just said he vowed to protect you, he wanted to know how this situation arose.

"It was a party, about three or four months ago, I think," you begin, weighing your words carefully as you try to gauge how much to reveal to Minhee. Your brother is already teetering on the edge of adrenaline-fueled rage, and recounting the details of Heosun's unwelcome advances towards you doesn't seem like the best idea in the current tense atmosphere.

Minhee listens attentively, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. "Go on," he prompts gently, sensing the weight of your hesitation.

Taking a deep breath, you continue, "There was this guy who wouldn't leave me alone, and Sunghoon came to pick me up, and well, you saw what happened." You lower your gaze, feeling a pang of shame at the memory of the chaos that ensued that night.

Now, with your mother's hands all over the incriminating video, you feel the weight of the burden resting heavily on your shoulders. If she were to show anyone that footage, it could spell the end of Sunghoon's career – all because of the consequences of your past decisions.

Despite Sunghoon's reassurances that none of it was your fault, the guilt gnaws at you relentlessly. It's one thing to hear those words, but it's another to truly believe them, especially in the face of such dire consequences.

Minhee can feel your body tremble and it softens his mood, his brotherly instincts taking charge over his anger. He pulls you in for a hug, scratching the back of your head to soothe your thoughts.

“I would say I’d kill that hockey player if I wasn’t convinced Sunghoon’s already taken care of it,” he chuckles at his attempt to lighten the mood, but your overthinking is taking hold of you, scared for what will happen.

Knowing you your whole life, Minhee knows what your brain is doing right now, “Hey, you aren’t to blame for any of this. Heosun is the one to blame for trying to take advantage of you,” his fingers dig into your scalp as he says the crime out loud. He can’t stand that he wasn’t there for you during your time of need.

However, he is thankful Sunghoon was there.

He leans back to look at you, your eyes glazed over with thoughts. Patting your head, he tries to reason with your mind, “You can’t let mum’s manipulation make you feel responsible for all of this. Sunghoon is a grown man and he made his choices,” he sees his words infiltrating your doubt, like a soldier breaking down the gate to the castle, “He did what anyone would have done.”

You manage a weak smile, grateful for his support even as the guilt continues to run through you, "I know, but... what if I could have handled things differently?" you mumble, the weight of self-blame heavy in your voice.

Minhee shakes his head, his eyes filled with conviction, “Don’t do that, Bubs. You did everything you could, I believe that.”

His words provide a glimmer of consolation amidst the disarray of your thoughts. For a minute, you allow yourself to lean into his calming presence, drawing strength from your brother's support.

You both sit in silence for a while, needing to calm down from your emotions. The whole ordeal has led you away from a pivotal point in his conversation with your mum, something that you wanted to question.

“What if you don’t win?” you pull your head from his chest, looking up at him concerned. If he doesn’t win, there’s no knowing what your mum might do. She would lose far too much money just to let it slide, not to mention the vendetta she probably has against Minhee after his harsh words.

Calmly, he smiles, “I’ve got it covered, don’t worry.” With a kiss on the top of your head, he releases you from his grip. It’s a clear indication that he doesn’t want to push this conversation any further.

But you can’t help but be concerned.

_____

Pressing your key card to the door, you walk in and instantly hear laughter coming from Minhee and Sunghoon. The sound fills you with a sense of relief, worried that your absence from the hotel room to grab some snacks from the shop down the street was enough time for them to start arguing and throwing punches.

You really should have had more faith in them, particularly after the car journey, yet, you still have a horrible feeling that settles inside your chest because it’s all going too perfectly.

Minhee is doubled over, face red from laughter while Sunghoon’s eyes are wide, an incredulous smile smacked across his features. It’s amazing how well they shine together when they don’t have their mothers putting the weight on their shoulders, forcing them into unhealthy competition.

“She padded it so much to impress you, it was hilarious!” you hear Minhee cackle as he speaks as you shut the door behind you. They haven’t noticed your presence, too caught up in the hilarity of their conversation.

Sunghoon lets out a ‘huh’ in realisation, “That’s what that was? I was so confused, I thought she had a reaction to something,” he chuckles, still processing whatever information Minhee was divulging.

The atmosphere is light, making you smile widely as you walk further into the hotel room, “What are you guys talking about?”

Turning to face you, both boys burst into another fit of laughter as soon as they see you. It makes you self-conscious, suddenly making you wish you checked yourself in the lift mirror before coming back.

Minhee wipes a tear from his eye before letting you in on their little secret, “I told him how you stuffed your bra with tissue paper trying to impress him,” he points his head to Sunghoon who is currently rolling on the bed in stitches.

The memory flashes in your mind as your face falls. You were young, foolish, and watched 13 going on 30 a little too much; it was a stupid idea. In your defence, a rumour was circulating that Sunghoon’s ideal type was someone like Irene from Red Velvet and she was so perfect you tried to look like her, stuffed bra and all.

You stand traumatised for a minute as you start to vividly recall the way your tissue boobs must have looked to everyone else, “Oh my…god! Can you guys shut up, I was like 12,” you groan hiding your face behind the bags of starburst and skittles.

“You didn’t even need a bra,” Minhee argues back, clearly enjoying the torment his story is providing you, “It’s my brotherly duty to tell your boyfriend all the embarrassing stories I have about you,” he’s smug, lips upturned in a grin.

Forcefully, you toss his sweets at his head, aiming for pain. But Minhee has fast reflexes and dodges it easily. Out of all the stories to tell, why did it have to be that one? Couldn’t it have been the one where you accidentally vomited all over him after he punched you too hard in the chest or that time you wrote a marriage proposal to Niall Horan and even set a date. Anything but the padded bra.

Sunghoon is still laughing, also reminiscing about that day, however, he isn’t so embarrassed. To be honest, he didn’t pay much attention, and he certainly didn’t know it was to impress him. Knowing it now only gives him more reason to be completely in love with you because even at 12, you wanted to be with him so much you were willing to change for him.

But he never wants you to change. Not ever.

“I honestly can’t believe you thought that would impress me,” he starts to calm down, beaming up at you; however, he is just as guilty for laughing, so you throw the last packet of sweets at his head. He isn’t so used to avoiding flying objects and you hit him straight on his nose, “Okay, ow!” he winces dramatically.

Sometimes you forget Sunghoon is an only child and didn’t have the sibling reflex, “Shit, I’m sorry, Hoon,” you apologise, leaning down to assess the damage but before you get too close, Sunghoon bursts into laughter once again. Slapping his chest you sit next to him, disgruntled.

Once he has composed himself, he sits up and pulls you into his side, kissing the top of your head, “Honestly, I think it’s kind of cute,” he whispers into your hair, trying to ease your brass neck. You can’t help but smile at his words, glad that he didn’t see you as some pathetic little girl.

You fail to understand that Sunghoon could never perceive you as anything other than perfect. Sure, no one actually is flawless, but you’re pretty close in his eyes; you’re perfect for him.

“Okay, I will stop telling stories if you guys stop acting so mushy,” Minhee relents, opening his packet of Skittles.

Tilting your head up, you place a soft kiss on Sunghoon’s lips, just to add a little torment to your brother which works because he’s fake gagging on his bed. He’s so dramatic but you’ll take the teasing over him holding a grudge about your relationship.

“I love you,” Sunghoon whispers tenderly, his hand squeezing your soft side, “padded bra and all.”

“Shut up, oh my god,” you push him away playfully, trying to act annoyed but it doesn’t really work, you can’t stay angry at him for longer than a day - your entire relationship journey has proven that; even when you fight, big or small, you always find your way back to one another quickly.

You don’t mean to think so seriously in such a lighthearted moment, but you can’t help but be thankful for everything that has transpired. There are times you want to start over completely, not lie to your brother, stick up to your mum, skip the whole ‘friends with benefits’ deal and just be with one another completely. But in truth, it’s just made your relationship stronger, both of you releasing that there isn’t a day you both don’t want to be together.

“What’s going on in that head of yours, Sweets?” he asks in a whisper, petting you with love.

You shake your head, “Nothing, just happy. That’s all.” And it was the truth, you’ve never been more content with anything in your life.

Minhee clears his throat, “Guys, seriously. Glad you’re all in love but can we pick a show now?”

Sunghoon and you shuffle to sit on your bed, getting comfy as Minhee flicks through the TV section on Netflix and when you and your brother both see My Demon in recently added, you both turn to one another, smiling brightly.

Your boyfriend isn’t completely aware of your obsession with Song Kang, but he is about to find out.

_____

As the hours go by, face masks have been done and subsequently making the whole room smell of paella and vanilla, you begin to hear Minhee snoring on the other bed; you’re 5 episodes into My Demon and clearly, he has had enough. Fair enough, it is reaching midnight and he is up extremely early tomorrow, but so is Sunghoon and he is wide awake, not caring about his beauty sleep one bit.

In fact, he has started caressing your thigh a bit too close to a certain area. All night he’s found some way to touch you, either a hug, spooning you, or grazing his fingers over any skin that isn’t covered. Luckily for him, your shorts have ridden up just enough to leave the tops and inners of your thighs exposed.

You push his hand away, “Mini is right there,” you speak lowly, trying to caution him off but Sunghoon couldn’t care less, only tracing up further to your core.

“He’s sleeping,” he argues back as he spares a quick glance to a passed-out Minhee.

Honestly, he was so sick of you melting when Song Kang popped up on the TV, he’s not afraid to admit that he’s jealous. Every time you held in a squeal as the actor smiled or had his top off, he knew he had to get you back to reality, back to the time when all you saw was him. It was childish but he doesn’t bother to worry about that, knowing you like it when he’s a bit possessive and clingy.

You sit up straight to face him, eyes flashing in warning, “He could wake up,” you’re trying to reason with him but his face doesn’t show any sense of understanding of how badly this scenario could end. You’ll do a lot with Sunghoon but fucking him while your brother is in the room is a hard pass. He was insatiable, you always knew it, you just thought he had some decorum when it came to having sex in front of family.

Smirking, Sunghoon rolls his eyes, “With how loud you are, he probably would wake up.” Teasing you isn’t the best approach for getting what he wants, he sees that in your peeved expression, “Fine, how about we go to my hotel room?” he offers as a solution.

With his fingers now dancing along the top of your pussy, you quickly agree, already standing up and pulling him out of the room, making sure the door doesn’t slam shut.

Once you both enter his room, he wastes no time, kissing you roughly like he has been wanting to do since you changed into your little pyjamas. The heat from his body is a telltale sign that he’s ready to just ravish you as soon as he gets you naked.

And that he does, stripping you of any material you have on and pushing you onto the bed. You’re a vision in front of him, some hickeys and bruises scattered over your body from the last time you had sex, which in Sunghoon’s mind, was far too long ago.

With hungry eyes, you watch as he sheds his own clothing, revealing his arousal as he strokes himself slowly. Your breath catches in anticipation, craving the feel of him inside you, the throbbing intensity of his desire mirrored in you.

“I’ve got a surprise,” he says suddenly, licking his lips mischievously.

You lean on your elbows, confused by his words, “What kind of surprise?”

Holding a finger up, he bends down to his suitcase, rummaging through it to find something, only making you more curious, “It’s in here somewhere,” he states more to himself than you, his smile widening as he comes across something, “There you are.”

As he stands back up, you look into his hand and your jaw hits the floor, “Where did you get that?”

Sunghoon stands proud as punch as he twirls the pink rose toy in his right hand, smiling at it happily, “I know a thing or two, Sweets.”

You had your own rose toy at home, literally more prized than the award you won a few months ago. It’s your saviour when you’re too stressed or just craving some release when Sunghoon isn’t readily available. You hadn’t told him about it, so you’re a little shocked he had one.

It also looked much better than yours so you’re going to have to sneak it into your bag before you all leave on Sunday.

Snaking his way to you, he shows you it up close, “Y’know, I used to think these toys were the enemy, taking away something from me,” he pauses, spitting on the top of it, rubbing his saliva into the creases of the rose petals, “But then I thought, it could really be an asset.”

Pressing the power button on, the machine starts to vibrate and suck in air, making you swallow dryly in anticipation. You knew how good it felt when you used it on your own so you can only imagine the power it holds in Sunghoon’s hands.

Sleeking it to your folds, he wastes no time in pressing it directly on your clit, wiggling it around to make sure he has it on your sweet point. As you gasp and fall flat on the bed, he knows he’s found it.

Sunghoon knows how it works but this is admittedly his first time seeing it in action and by God was he glad he stumbled across it on Twitter. The way you’re already wriggling under its suck is causing his cock to jump straight up in arousal. This is such a nice change for him, to see how your tits move from side to side as your body responds to the sensation on your clit, your mouth falling open so beautifully as whimpers escape. Normally, he’s got a different view, his head buried where the rose toy is right now; he’ll need to find more ways to witness you from this angle.

“Hoon! It’s-” You don’t get to finish your sentence as he loosens the toy which only makes it suck your clit up harder. What you were going to say is that it’s already got you close, the mix of the vibration and everything else proving a bit too much.

Typically, when you use the toy back home, it’s a 5-minute job, the flower living up to its hype, and now is no exception. But there’s something even more arousing about your boyfriend being in control of it all. If it got a little intense, you could normally pull it away of your own accord, but with Sunghoon in control, you don’t have that luxury; you need to power through the fire that is burning within your nub.

Seeing you close, he licks and bites his bottom lip, thinking of how he can take credit for some of this climax, rather than congratulations only being on the vibrating machine in his hand. He suddenly shoves three of his fingers into his mouth, gathering his spit onto them before brushing them along your hole.

The rose already has you super wet so it’s easy for him to slide his digits right in, getting to work on finding your spongy spot, the very spot that he always curls into and gets you cumming.

With the addition of Sunghoon’s fingers, your eyes roll to the back of your head, only the whites of your eyes visible. It’s intense and you’re going to cum so hard over his fingers you might genuinely be spent after this one orgasm.

Like a crash, you cry out his name, chanting a few swear words for punctuation as you cum. Your clit throbs and puffs out as you orgasm, only making the toy have more to suck and pulse onto. It’s like heaven and hell all came at once, not sure if the pleasure outdoes the pain or vice versa. To be fair, the pain isn’t excruciating, you just feel yourself being overstimulated by the rosebud and Sunghoon’s fingers which isn’t a bad thing, just takes some time to adjust.

Sunghoon’s fingers thrust into you fast, each time he drags it out, more of your essence is left on the hotel covers, painting them a darker shade of ivory. He thinks it’s a waste, how the bedsheets get to soak up your juices when it should be his tongue, but he can’t change up the pace now, your body speaking the words you can’t. You’re enjoying this far too much.

“Sunghoon, please!” you whine while your body instinctively tries to retreat from his touch to find relief.

“You want something, baby?” he asks so innocently, his fingers still thrusting into you with velocity, “Use that pretty mouth of yours.”

He sits on his knees, looking down at you to wait for your response, one he knows will take all your strength to muster. You’re a sight to behold; eyes screwed shut as you try to work through the overstimulation yet your mouth breathing out loud moans.

“Cock,” is the only word you can say, so drunk on the pleasure that you’re practically dumb in lust, not a thought in your brain other than getting fucked by Sunghoon’s thick cock.

He laughs lightly, shaking his head, “You want my cock?” your boyfriend’s ego is already big but when he gets you into bed, it increases tenfold. He adores that you want him and his body just as much as he wants yours.

“Fuck, yes, Hoonie, please,” you beg, trying to remove both his hands so he’ll just slip into you.

“You’re so fucking irresistible,” he says huskily, his heart swelling in his chest with pride.

However, what you want him to do is remove the toy with his fingers, which is clearly a pipe dream since the next thing that happens makes you scream.

His fingers are replaced with his long cock, but he doesn’t remove the toy from your aching nub, rather, moving it even more directly over you, dancing it along with your body as you try to get away. He’s being so cruel to you, causing this torment of excessive stimulation.

Sunghoon doesn’t see it that way though, he knows when you finally relax and ride through the burning, you’ll be begging him to keep going. Also, with every thrust of his cock into your tight pussy, he gets a jolt of vibration hitting the end of his shaft, giving him a new sense of pleasure.

He hasn’t ever used toys on himself, his hand and you being all he needs, but he might just have to find a few new ways to incorporate some toys into the mix. Perhaps he can convince you to let him use a massager in the future.

Jackhammering into you, he throws his head back, getting lost in the feeling of your walls slamming down on him. Your body is busily thrashing beneath him, only giving the tip of his member new areas to get in amongst.

“You feel so fucking good, Sweets,” he groans out, only going faster and deeper into you. The toy is an excellent companion, however, it’s limiting his horsepower, wishing he could just bend you in half and drive into you with no mercy.

Finally, he takes the flower from your clit, and your body instantly relaxes. The cold air whisking over your hot pussy is like breathing in fresh air after being in a stuffy room for too long; it’s heaven.

It doesn’t take Sunghoon long to find a new purpose for it though, placing it over one of your hardened nipples, “Hold that there for me, baby,” he asks, making sure that your nipple is full inside the hole of the toy. You feel the vibrating all the way up to your jaw, but you oblige, anything for him to fuck you like he always does.

Getting into a new position, he finds a new harsher rhythm, his pointed thrusts snapping into you with the purpose of getting you both off. Sunghoon’s entire body is rocking, the bed squeaking lousy under you both, only drowned out by the clusters of your moans.

Before you know it, you’re cumming again, this time, you think you’re going to squirt all over him, the feeling of release far too intense to be a normal few sprits that will coat his cock. Instead, you roar loudly, like no noise you’ve ever made before, one of those groans that comes straight from your toes and through your chest. You lose grip of the toy and focus on finding anything to anchor onto, scared you might float away with your second climax.

Hearing you cry out erupts a drive in him, his hips moving into you just as you like it. Flinging your legs over his shoulders, he grabs both of your hands in his and piledrives into you, his lips finding yours in a fevered kiss.

You can tell he’s close too, the heavy rise and fall in his chest a dead giveaway. His cock is leaking cum into you in short bursts, causing his hips to jerk quickly into you, almost like he’s trying to make sure his dick is stuck inside you as deep as it can possibly go.

“Fuck, fuck,” he chants, a little bit of drool falling from his lips which you gladly lick up before slipping your tongue into his mouth. Sunghoon can’t stop cumming inside you, each time he thinks he’s finished, a few more ropes escape him.

You can feel both of your cum running down your ass cheeks, the escaping liquid running hot as Sunghoon musters up any energy he has left to hold himself above you, “I think I might have set a new record for how much cum can spill from a man,” he laughs, giving you eskimo kisses.

Reaching over, you turn the rose toy off, leaving the room filled with only your intertwined heavy breaths and laughter. You feel so happy in this moment that you could honestly die happily right now.

Sunghoon climbs off you, pulling you up with him, leaving a gentle his on your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom to find something to clean you both with. You lean over the bed, finding one of his t-shirts sitting in his suitcase and putting it on your spent body. The best part of spending any form of time with Sunghoon is stealing his clothes.

Walking back in with a face cloth, he wipes your pussy and thighs down, his fingers fishing out any cum remnants left. The sudden curling of his finger makes you clench again, “Sorry, Sweets. That was just a lot of cum, need to make sure it’s all out,” he whispers.

“I’ll go pee, that’ll help,” you say back, pushing him away to give you a pathway off the bed to excuse yourself to the toilet.

While you’re in there, he tidies up and puts on some fresh boxers, his cock still softening from the intensity of the fucking it just had. As he picks up the rose toy he smiles, chucking it into his case with a promise to use it at least once more before you leave.

“Tomorrow is a big day, huh?” your voice travels from the bathroom as you wash your hands.

“I suppose so,” Sunghoon responds, a little too nonchalant.

He should be nervous, it’s a massive competition that is broadcast to thousands. Sure, he has done this a few times but surely with the ankle injury, he should be a bit apprehensive about going out there.

You climb onto the bed and sit on his lap, arms circling his neck, “Why don’t you seem worried about this?” you ask, playing with the ends of his dampened hair.

In response, he shrugs, “I’m the number one skater, why should I be?” This isn’t his normal cocky attitude, this is something else. He knows something that he’s not telling you.

And you’ll be damned if you’re kept in the dark about another thing.

“Tell me the truth, Sunghoon. We promised not to lie to one another anymore.”

“It’s not lying if I just withhold information,” he replies, his lips trying to distract you as they pepper kisses up your neck and behind your ear.

But you push him away before you do get too into it, “That wasn’t the case when I ‘withheld information’ about Minhee breaking your skate,” you retort, hating to bring up the past but when push comes to shove, you’ll do it.

Closing his eyes, he nods in understanding. Sunghoon knows you’re right, you don’t deserve to be in the dark, “I’m throwing the competition tomorrow.”

The room goes quiet as you process his words. At this moment, you feel a sense of burden creeping back onto your body, “What do you mean throwing it? You haven’t lost a competition like this since you turned 16.” He isn’t the Nation’s best skater for nothing, he’s proved time and time again that he’s not to be underestimated.

Suddenly, the conversation with his mum pops back into your head for some reason. Her lack of acknowledgement of Sunghoon’s talents must have been with him for so long - fuck, they might still be with him. Maybe he’s throwing it in defiance?

He sees you think it over and over before he finally interjects, “I’ll still place top 3, Sweets. I’m just making sure he comes first, that’s all.”

“Why would you do that? You know if he finds out, he’ll be livid.” You can’t imagine Minhee ever wishing Sunghoon to yield it so easily, your brother worked too hard to perfect his routine to win by some giveaway.

“Okay,” he breathes out, knowing this conversation is about to get a little difficult, “We both decided it, actually. That day we went into the coach's office? Yeah, that’s what he wanted to talk to me about.”

“You want me to what?” Sunghoon asks, accompanied by a scoff.

Minhee bites his tongue from making any rash comment, needing the other skater on his side for his plan to work, “I want you to throw Nationals.”

Letting a venomous laugh out, Sunghoon shakes his head in disbelief, “You’re seriously asking me to purposefully lose at Nationals after everything you’ve done to me? To Y/N? You can forget it.”

Storming off, Sunghoon can barely reach the door before Minhee swings him back around to face him, a fire in his eyes that Sunghoon has never seen before, “Look, this isn’t for me. It’s for Y/N.”

“Yeah of cours-”

“Let me fucking finish, Park,” Minhee snaps, his voice raised and arm gripping Sunghoon a little rougher, “Y/N told you about our mum, how she has stakes on me winning?” he waits to make sure you did actually have such a conversation with your boyfriend, to which Sunghoon nods, waiting for your brother to continue, “If I win, she gets a boat load of money, it’s all illegal and there are rules and stakes that I don’t even know the full detail of but either way, she’s playing it dirty with some big bosses. She took money from some guys to put the bets on, y’know?”

Minhee’s explanation isn’t convincing his counterpart, wondering where you come into this, “I don’t hear Y/N’s name in this. If your mum has a gambling addiction, that’s between her and the guys she’s fucking over, not my girl.”

“The bets are in Y/N’s name.”

“What?” Sunghoon yanks his arm from his grasp, stepping back a little, “You mean she’s tied up in all of this?”

Nodding, Minhee feels the familiar boil of rage within him. He still can’t fully comprehend how his mother could do this to you, she is meant to look after you, not cause you harm, “I know, it’s fucked. If mum loses these bets, guess who everyone is going to be gunning for?”

Sunghoon’s heart quickens, the thought of you being in danger is making him feel sick and the words hang heavily in the air between the two people who love you the most. Your entanglement within this mess of a web was the last thing Sunghoon thought Minhee would say.

“So if you win, and she gets the money…”

“Then they get their cut. Happy days, my sister is no longer in danger,” Minhee rubs his temples, trying to give his brain a moment to gather itself before he divulges the rest, “I’m telling you this because I know you love her and as I said, you’d be doing this for her.”

There is so much to think about that Sunghoon’s brain is sparking out a little, but one thing is for certain, he is going to do everything in his power to protect you, “Fine. I’ll lose. But how do we know your mum won’t do something else?”

“I don’t,” Minhee confesses truthfully. He has no idea if she’ll even give the men their cut once he wins, “I’m gonna tell her that I know about her gambling and the illegality of it all, hope that scares her enough to not try and fuck any of us over, y’know?”

“That’s all you’re going to do? The love of my life is out there with a target on her back and you’re just going with a presumption that she’ll back off by a threat?” There is steam coming from Sunghoon’s head and his fists are balled up in rage. This isn’t something to be taken lightly.

Minhee holds in his frustration, knowing Sunghoon is only looking out for you, but the lack of faith in him is making it increasingly difficult to keep his cool, “She might be your girlfriend, but she’s my sister, alright. I have been doing everything in my willpower to keep her safe since we were little…Listen, I know my mum, she’s scared and I can see it. She’s way deeper into this than she knows how to deal with, she wants that money and to get away from those gambling sharks, yeah? My mum won’t do anything like this again, I feel it.”

It’s a hunch, a loose, untrusted huch, but it’s all he’s got. He just wants to protect you right here and now. If your mum stoops low enough to bring you back into a mess like this, he’ll sort it when the time comes.

Seeing Minhee’s resolve, the raven-haired boy retracts, calming down. He knows Minhee is trying his best, and if he can keep you out of immediate danger by coming in second at a competition, he will gladly do it.

You sit still, processing the bomb that has just been dropped on you. The gambles being in your name is something you had no idea about, hence why they probably didn’t tell you about this grand plan.

What does someone even do in this situation?

Sunghoon rubs your arm reassuringly, trying to get you to speak or even make a noise of acknowledgement. He can’t imagine how difficult it must be to hear this for the first time but he knew that he couldn’t tell you; if he let you in on Minhee and his secret, you would have tried to solve the problem yourself, to help everyone else in the situation as best you can, and he couldn’t watch you do that, not when none of this was your fault.

“Don’t throw it,” you say firmly.

Sunghoon freezes, his hand stilling on your arm as he looks at you, surprise evident in his eyes. He hadn't expected those to be the first words to break the heavy silence that enveloped the room, “What the fuck are you talking about? Are you crazy?”

Perhaps you are, but you can’t watch anyone sacrifice their livelihood, especially a chance of gold at Nationals, just for you. It’s selfish, on both your part and your mother's. No, you didn’t ask to be put in this situation, but there was something you could do now.

Unfortunately, this is what Sunghoon was afraid of.

“You saw Minhee’s skate, he’s phenomenal. I want him to win this properly,” you confess quietly, still struggling with the information relayed to you only minutes ago.

“What about your mum? Sweets, this is a full-proof plan to get you both away from your mum, to let you both live without her mess,” his left hand cradles your cheek as he moves closer to you, as if hearing the solution from a closer distance would suddenly help change your mind.

It won’t, you’re determined to have this conversation end your way the only option forward is, “Please, Hoonie. If he loses, we will deal with it…but I believe in Mini so much, especially after seeing the rehearsal a few weeks ago. I want him to know he can win this on his own merit.” Your eyes search for any ounce of understanding.

Sunghoon's brow furrows in frustration, his mind racing with the weight of the decision before you both. He wants nothing more than to protect you, to shield you from harm, but he also knows that he doesn’t want to upset you and go against your wishes.

Taking a deep breath, he presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his embrace offering silent reassurance and support. "Okay," he says finally, his voice tinged with resignation. "We'll do it your way. I won’t throw the competition but ONLY if he does well. He’s on before me on the card so I’ll make the call then,” he can barely believe he’s agreeing to this.

A mixture of relief and fear wash over you. You understand the gravity of his concession, knowing that it's not an easy decision for him to make. It fills you with gratitude that he actually listened to you.

"Thank you, Hoonie," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath as you lean into his embrace, seeking solace in his comforting presence. "I promise, we'll figure this out together. And Minhee... he'll do amazing, I just know it.”

The belief you have in your brother is something Sunghoon only wished for growing up, seeing how determined you are to make sure Minhee knows he’s talented enough to win and solve this mess by just being good at what he does makes your boyfriend a little envious. He knows why Minhee is so protective of you, but now seeing how you protect and only do the right thing for one another, putting your sibling before anything else, it’s admirable.

“What time is he on?” you ask, twiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“2:35pm. I’m on at 3:45pm so I’ll see the scores and whatever in plenty of time to determine what to do.” There is a new sense of life in Sunghoon, certain that no matter what happens tomorrow, he’s going to make sure you and Minhee walk out happily, with no worries perched on your shoulders.

taglist (closed!!): @heelee-01 @zerasari @beomgyusonlywife @iwaplant @monstanctiny21 @chiiiiiiiiis @minniejenseo @run2gyuz @jngwnlvs @haelahoops @capri-cuntz @nctislifue @jaehoonii @weyukinluv @skzenhalove @enhypenlovre @cherriruto @bambangan @who-tf-soddhi @nxzz-skz @nshmrarki @hotsforikeu @enhastolemyheart @erehkinnie30 @judeduartewannabe @neosexual @fakeuwus @positivelyinlovewithjungwon @tobiosbbyghorl @kimsunoops

#enhypen smut #enha smut #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #sunghoon smut #park sunghoon smut #enhypen angst #melting point #aj writes

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myspacebrat · 1 year

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Heavy metal parking lot

eddie munson x metal head fem!reader

summary: the last thing you ever expected was to hit it off with a cute guy at a Judas Priest concert, but stranger things have happened.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ mdni, all porn almost no plot, no use of y/n, use of pet names (baby, princess, pretty girl etc.), smoking the devils lettuce, queer!eddie, reader has nipple piercings, dom/sub dynamics, some degradation (but eddie is still a simp), oral (m receiving), unprotected rough p in v sex (this is fantasy, pls don’t have unprotected sex with strangers), anal play (f receiving).

notes: just a dirty little one shot. Sorry, there will not be a part two. Thank you to my loves: @corrodedcorpses @take-everything-you-can & @stwritings for beta reading <3 also, blame @bettyfrommars & @xxhellfiregirlxx for me posting this filth on our holy day.

wc: 3.1k

This was a stupid idea, stupid, stupid.

But here you are driving to the market square arena, an hour away from home, dead in the middle of a scorching summer, alone.

You had this elaborate plan for months, ever since you had bought your tickets. You and your best friend Abbee were supposed to meet up at your house, get ready together, go grab some fuel and head to the show a little early to hang out in the parking lot. That unfortunately is not what ended up happening. You got ready…alone, got food…alone and now you’re making the trip…alone.

You can’t be mad at your friend, she did have a very valid excuse as to why she was unable to make it. You couldn’t help but to kick yourself for never being brave enough to put yourself out there and make new friends, but maybe that would change, maybe you would meet some cool people at the show, some Judas Priest fans seemed like the perfect place to start.

The parking lot was jam packed, men and women in all their Judas Priest or Dokken gear, huge banners held out by adoring fans, beer cans littering the lot as weed and cigarette smoke fog the air.

You finally find parking, lucky for you it seems to be the last vacant spot left, squeezed tight between a red Camaro and a brown van.

Better than nothing.

As you exit your black Honda accord, your eyes flit around the lot, taking in your surroundings as you breathe in the second hand smoke.

“Hey, sick shirt.” A gruff voice towards your left calls out. You look around for a second before your eyes finally land on the owner of the van that's parked beside you.

His brown wavy hair gets hit by a gust of wind, as if he’s some hot character in one of those movies that the protagonist is in love with. You definitely couldn’t deny his hotness.

His defenders of the faith shirt clung to his body like a second skin, tight dark blue jeans with a chain adorned his lower half along with white reeboks.

He had a joint perched between his two fingers as his eyes so boldly roamed your figure.

“Thanks,” you acknowledge, as you look down at your ‘hell bent for leather’ cropped tee, and then back up to meet his mischievous smirk. “Yours is sick, too.” You offer in a small but cheerful voice.

“You wanna come smoke with me, pretty girl?” He offers as the mischievous smile grows, like the grinch who stole Christmas.

“Uhh, sure why not?” You shrug, making your way over to the van and taking a seat on the red carpeted floor, your leather mini skirt now hiked up around the very tops of your thighs while your knee high boots hang out the side, resting on the asphalt below you.

“I’m Eddie.” He declares while holding out a heavily ringed hand, you stare it down ogling between his tattoos, black nail polish and badass rings before placing your smaller appendage in his, you firmly shake it with a smile as you tell him your name.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl.” He chuckles before handing you the dwindling joint.

You take a hit while you let your eyes wander around the inside of his van, a small mattress set up with a colorful quilt and two fluffy pillows.

Various magazines of the adult variety scrawled out haphazardly on the floor, a six pack of coors lite sits on the arm rest between the two front seats, breaking the law plays out through the speakers.

Though he’s not the only one, various Judas Priest songs could be heard throughout the stadium's parking lot.

You take another small hit, passing back the now roach sized spliff. Eddie tries to get one more hit out of it, before throwing it to the ground and stepping on it with the toe of his white sneaker.

You begin to stand up with the thought that you may be overstaying your welcome, until Eddie puts a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“You don’t have to go.” The shy look on his face is the total antithesis of his cocky demeanor when he’d first waved you over.

“Oh, okay. I just didn’t want to bother or keep you from anything.” Your response is sheepish and the butterflies in your belly begin fluttering about.

“No baby, you're not keeping me from anything.” He beams.

That damn nickname pulls you in like a moth to a flame.

As you and Eddie grow better acquainted, you realize he has a great sense of humor with an eccentric personality.

You also quickly realize you want him.

Right here in the back of his van.

You scoot your bottom back, making your way into the wagon. The action causes your skirt to roll up further along your thighs, giving Eddie the perfect glimpse of your black panties.

You swing your feet inside and hoist yourself up on your knees, as graceful as possible. Waddling over like a penguin to fling yourself onto the mattress that had your mind wandering.

“Mmm, this is comfy.” You sigh with a smile, as your body burrows deeper into the off white sheets below you.

Eddie stands just outside the door, eyes unable to leave your backside as you cuddle up on his mattress. ‘Was this his lucky day?’ This shit never happens to him, well at least not with women anyway. He had better luck with men.

Thank you Judas Priest, Eddie silently prays to the sky before making his way inside the vehicle to join you.

“Mind if I lay down?” He mumbles, surprising you with his close proximity.

You turn, catching onto the puppy dog eyes he’s giving you; and what you would give to have them looking down at you while he’s working your body to sweet, sweet release.

“No, of course not.” You giggle, the sound makes Eddie twitch in his pants.

He was a sweet boy, you wanted him to fucking ruin you.

You turn to face him, head resting on your palm as you pat the spot beside you.

The sly smirk returns as he lays down on the mattress, mirroring your exact position.

“Shows gonna start in an hour.” He whispers, scooting in closer towards you, the warmth radiating off of his skin is sending your body into a frenzy.

“Mm, so we have enough time?” You sweetly whisper back.

“Enough time for what? Hmm?” Your bodies continue to gravitate together, a pull so strong it was like you were both attached to magnets.

“For this..” you breathily huff before straddling Eddie’s waist, the groan that escapes him makes your eyes roll back, as you begin to grind down on his growing erection.

“Fuck” Eddie hisses as his hands fall to your waist, now controlling your movements and pulling you in deeper.

“That’s exactly what I intend on doing.” The air gets caught in your throat as a small laugh leaves your lips, your clit catching on rough denim fabric, Eddie swears every time you giggle it’s like an angel gets its wings. It’s sweet and soft, just like you.

You lean in closer, soft plump lips meeting yours in a tangle of tongues, it’s hot and desperate as you are for each other.

Eddie moans into your mouth as your movements get more daring, practically bouncing on his clothed lap. His eyes quickly flicker to your tits as they jiggle with each bounce, it’s clear you’re not wearing a bra, and the idea makes Eddie’s mouth water and his cock stiffen. It feels the hardest it's been since he took a dick in his ass for the very first time. He needs to be inside you and he hopes you're willing to give him that, he’ll do anything for it, at this moment. He feels like a desperate idiot; but he is, he really is so fucking desperate for you.

You immediately notice the way Eddie’s eyes have been trained on the perky slopes of your breasts, with an ever growing smirk you take the hem and hike the shirt up and over your head to be discarded on the red carpet of his van.

“Holy shit!” Eddie practically pants, like a dog who’s out of water.

His decorated hands move up from your hips as they begin to tweak at your nipples, nimble fingers rubbing over the double balled jewelry that sits on each hardened peak.

“Fuck, such pretty tits!” He groans “and they’re pierced, Jesus.” Eddie was enthralled, absolutely fucking enthralled by you.

You lean down, planting soft kisses to Eddie’s long, beautiful neck, leaving behind remenits of your red lipstick and spit soaked bruises.

“Mmm…” he hums as you suck and bite at a spot under his ear lobe.

“Please, fuck me.” You breathily murmur into his ear, before you lift yourself back up using his pecs as leverage, eyes meeting his as you gauge his reaction to your plea.

“You sure, baby?” He whispers before leaving a sloppy kiss to your jaw.

“I’m so sure, please Eddie.” The way you moan his name as you beg for him creates something feral inside of Eddie, his eyes now glazed over into something dark, his jaw tightens as he grabs two rough handfuls of your ass, that are now exposed while your skirt sits carelessly on your lower back.

His right hand slowly glides up your body and into your hair, quickly tightening his fingers around the strands at the base of your neck.

“You want my cock, princess?” He challenges through his teeth.

“Yes, mmhmm, so bad!” You insist with a shout, having your hair pulled has always made you drip between your legs.

“Then go on.. take my cock out, you cock hungry little slut.” He growls as his fingers wrap tighter around your hair before quickly pulling his hand away, he gives your ass one hard spank before he’s back to grabbing at the meat.

You make quick work of his handcuff belt, unbuttoning and swiftly pulling down the zipper before dipping your thumbs into the waistband of both his boxers and jeans and peeling them off, leaving both garments to sit around the tops of his knees.

The sight you’re met with causes you to gasp, he has to be at least 9 inches, it was red and throbbing, wetness from his precum already saturating the mushroom tip.

“Like what you see, baby?” He brags with a smirk that could make Satan himself shiver.

“You’re so pretty, every part of you.” You admit as you lick your bottom lip, with hunger in your eyes.

Eddie wraps a ringed hand around the base of his cock, vulgarly slapping the air with it,

“Where do you want it, huh sweetheart?” His grunt made more slick pool from your needy cunt.

Showing is better than telling, so you plant your knees between his thighs, bringing your face mere inches from his pulsing hard sex.

“Holy fuck, are you gonna—” his eyes roll back as your tongue glides up the underside of his cock, before wrapping your lips around his tip. “No girl has ever given me head.” He huffs while throwing his head back.

You let go of his cock with a wet pop, “no one’s ever sucked your dick before?” You scrunch your face up in confusion, there’s no way he’s never been treated to some head, that would be a travesty.

“I have, j-just not by a-a women.” He stutters out in embarrassment, as his face flushes a bright red that travels down his neck.

It takes you a second to understand what he means, “oh” was all you said, before shrugging and getting back to work on his tip.

He smiles down at you, pulling all of your hair out of your face and holding it together in a makeshift ponytail as he gently guides your head up and down on him, until you’re taking him deeper, so deep your nose is now brushing against the curly hairs at his base, you swallow his tip down before you begin rapidly moving and twisting your head as if a women possessed.

“Oh my— whoa, fuck baby!” He keens into the stuffy air of the van, “your mouth feels so fucking good!” He begins rapidly pumping his hips up, fucking your throat as spit strings fall to his balls, you reach a hand out and begin massaging them, making him growl in pleasure.

“Okay baby, okay angel please, please stop.” Eddie whimpers as he pulls you off of his cock, the spit on your lips remains connected to Eddie’s tip.

He rubs over the messy swollen flesh with the pad of his thumb, as he hums in satisfaction.

“All fours, now.” He commands before shifting up and onto his knees, you crawl further up the mattress, finally laying your head against the sheets that were now dampened by his back, you arch your ass up while making sure your stomach was equally lowered, the position causing your ass to stick out more for him.

“Good girl.” He praised before giving your ass another harsh slap. “Let’s get these off of you.” Eddie slides your black thong over your butt and down your legs, slowly pulling them off from around your feet.

He throws your panties towards the front of the driver's seat, the black fabric lands perfectly on his dashboard. “M’keepin’ those.” He chuckles.

You’re so lost in desire, that someone could’ve told you Rob Halford himself was out signing autographs and you wouldn’t have bat an eyelash or made any attempts to move.

“Fuck, look at these pretty holes.” Eddie groans while running the tips of his fingers from your clit up towards your asshole. “You like getting all of your holes filled, princess?” He smirks at the way your body reacts to him and how loud you moan at his words.

Your ‘yes’ is muffled by the mattress, Eddie’s having none of it.

SLAP!

“Speak up!” He grumbles, before taking both cheeks roughly in his hands and spreading them.

“Yes! I love it!” Your wail has Eddie’s smirk growing more devilish

“I know you do.” He mocks as his middle finger teases your entrance, he causes your body to writhe and groan in desperation by slipping just the tip of his finger in and out of your aching hole.

Finally after all of his teasing, he slips his full finger inside, pumping in and out at a splitting speed.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He gasps while resting his head on your backside as he still works you with his finger, finally slipping another one in and scissoring them in an attempt to stretch you out.

He hasn’t even fucked you, yet you’re still an incoherent mess as slobber begins to pool on the sheets below your face.

His head starts to slowly move closer to where you’re spread, you gasp and wiggle when you feel his wet tongue slowly lick over your puckered hole.

“Oh fuck!” You blubber, the action making you clench around Eddie’s fingers.

“Mm, oh you like getting your asshole licked?” He scoffs in a teasing tone “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod and sob into his cheap cologne smelling sheets.

Slowly slipping his fingers out as he moves in closer, replacing his digits with his throbbing cock.

“You ready, princess?” He surveys as he runs his calloused hands up and down your back, gently rubbing at your soft skin.

“Mmhm, I’m ready.” You consent while lifting your head to get a good look at him as he slides into you.

His tip begins breaching your entrance as your eyes remain locked on each other, you and Eddie’s brows are both furrowed and jaws slack as he pushes in deeper.

“Oh, fuck!” Eddie growls as he continues to stretch you out. If he were to die in this very moment, he would die a happy man, the way your pussy is squeezing and choking him; he’s fucked tight assholes, but never a pussy this tight and he thinks it might be his new favorite thing, the way you get so effortlessly wet and the ridges on your walls that stimulate his cock so sensationally. The weed makes his mind go to some weird places; maybe I found some kind of holy grail pussy? He shakes his head of the weird thoughts beginning to plague his mind.

“Yes, right there!” Your screeching brings him back down to this dimension, making him drive deeper and pound harder into you, hitting that spongy spot over and over until you’re shaking underneath him, knees almost buckling at the intense pleasure that is now conquering your body. His fingers are pressed so deep into the skin of your upper thighs, that you’re positive they’ll be bruised by tomorrow.

“Right there?” Eddie mockingly smirks as he hits it over and over with his tip, “that your spot, baby?”

Your “mmhmm” comes out so whiny and desperate, he knew you were close and so was he but he needed to see you fall apart first.

Eddie quickly brings his thumb up to his lips, the calloused finger dipping into his mouth as he sucks, getting it all nice and wet before you feel it prodding your unused hole, he begins thrusting faster as his digit reaches the second knuckle. “Oh my god, you have the tightest fucking holes.” He sounds so out of breath and fucked out by this point, his loud groans, filthy words and extra finger are making you reach that peak of toe curling completion at a hurdling speed.

“I’m gonna cum.” You whine as you begin to back up into his thrusts, making his cock and finger hit deeper depths.

“Yes, cum for me baby.” He urges as he’s on the precipice of his own high.

“Yes, yes…” you babble as your body tenses, uncontrollably shaking as you come undone, Eddie’s thumb continues to work your asshole, while he fucks you through the most intense orgasm you’ll probably ever have.

“I-I’m coming baby, fuck!” Eddie shouts before he pulls himself out of your tight heat, hand maniacally working his cock until his warm seed spurts into your stretched out asshole.

“Holy shit!” He groans while his body falls over yours, you both begin to laugh until you hear someone pound their fist on the side of the van.

“Hey, Eddie—” you gasp at the disturbance, eyes going wide when you catch a glance at the metalhead, “the show's about to start man, everyone’s lining up at the door!” The raspy masculine voice calls out again, before you’re left in silence.

You and Eddie begin frantically getting dressed in hopes to get a good spot in line.

Once out into the fresh summer air, Eddie throws his arm around your shoulders, “you wanna watch the show with us, princess?” He proposes with a sweet grin, while lighting a cigarette.

You were right, a Judas Priest concert was the perfect place to make new friends.

taglist:

@michellecrusher @ali-r3n @crybabyddl @definitelynotecho @ajkamins @daniellabrandt @bl4ckt00thgr1n

#— 𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒 #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie x you #eddie munson fic

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babybluebex · 7 months

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venus pt.1 | angus tully x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: after being accepted as barton academy's first female student, you didn't think it could get any worse. as the fall semester progresses, you start to form a friendship with the outcast, angus, but what happens when the holidays come and you are the last two students on campus? PART 1 OF ? 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: angus tully (the holdovers, 2023) x fem!reader 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: canon compliance (this is a complete rewrite of the film, just with the added reader insert), lots of swearing, teddy is an asshole but what's new, 70s ideals about feminism (which YES is a warning), mentions of grief/loss 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: oof here we go, part 1 of my long-teased angus fic! be aware that this is literally 11k words, so i apologize for the absolute brick wall of text you're about to encounter (but don't worry, i put a read more on it :) ) also, if i missed any warnings/tags, pls dm me and let me know if you think i should add something! other than that, enjoy!

There were worse fates than this, right? There had to be, you were sure of it. You felt every pair of eyes on you as you walked down the center aisle of the chapel, acutely aware of the overwhelming masculine energy that you were drowning in. After all, at Barton, it wasn’t every day that these boys saw a girl. You wondered how long some of them had gone without laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex (a real one; skin mags don’t count).

It also didn’t help that the priest at the front of the room had intentionally brought everyone’s eyes to you the moment you walked in. You had tried to slip in unnoticed, but he had said “Ah, here she is now: our very first Barton lady! Come sit up front with the headmaster!”

You anchored yourself in the frontmost pew, next to the headmaster with a hippie beard, and kept your head still and staring straight ahead. You had known very little about Barton before that school year— you were from nearby Boston, and had gone to a larger high school with, not only a more mixed gender breakdown, but a significantly different economic situation than Barton. You had been shocked, as you took the bus from town to campus, at how many Mercedes and Cadillacs you had seen near the school. You felt like a fish out of water, in more ways than one.

The priest didn’t end his taunting when you sat down, though. “Many of you probably wondered, when you got on campus for the beginning of the semester, what the new building next to the dormitory was,” he began, and you heard a few mumblings from the row behind you, confirming their confusion. “Well, gentlemen, this year… Barton has become coeducational. The new building, Blackwell Hall, named for the esteemed Elizabeth Blackwell, is the girl’s dormitory.”

The mumbling behind you increased to a dull rumble, and you slightly turned your head to get a glance at the boys sitting behind you. All high school boys, kids your age, staring at you and wondering what your deal was. You took notice of one boy in particular, the only one around you not gossiping with his friends, totally uninterested and picking at his cuticles. Before you could even think to wonder about this boy, someone from near the back of the chapel yelled “Is she gonna be in classes with us?”

“Yes, she will,” the priest said. “She is a junior, so, gentlemen, make sure you welcome her warmly to our school.”

You sat and endured chapel while burning from all the stares in your direction, and, as soon as the priest dismissed the lot of you, you shot up and made your way to the doors, clutching your handbag close to your body. The August air hit your face as you stepped out, and you started back to Blackwell Hall, where your things sat, ready to be unpacked, but someone called out to you, demanding your attention.

“Hey, girl!” You turned to see who had shouted, and you were met with the sight of a boy with caramel-colored hair, wearing a sports coat and tie. Come to think of it, all the boys were wearing coats and ties. You hadn’t been told anything about a uniform, and suddenly your jeans felt less than appropriate. The boy had a cigarette in his hand, and he beckoned you over to him, and you clenched your back teeth as you (for some reason) obeyed.

“You’re a junior, huh?” the boy asked, and you nodded. “What classes are you taking?”

You pursed your lips. “Precalc,” you began. “Ancient Civ. Home Ec. Bio.”

“Gym?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“There’s not a girls’ locker room,” you said, hoping he understood your explanation.

The boy ashed his cigarette, and he said, “What period do you have Ancient Civ?”

You tried to recall what you had written down, and you said, “Fourth period, I think. With Hunham.”

“Oh,” the boy said with a winning smile. “I’m in that period too. Maybe we could be study partners.”

You drew in a breath and cleared your throat. “Maybe,” you said softly. “What’s your name?”

“Teddy,” he replied. “Kountze.”

“Right,” you mumbled. “Well, um, I’ll see you around, Teddy.”

“Um, are you going to the cafeteria?” Teddy asked hastily, like he was looking for something to talk to you about. “I-I was about to head there, and, if you wanted someone to sit with, I have a spare seat at my table.”

“I’m not,” you told him. “Gotta get back to my dorm and finish unpacking. I only got in town today.”

“How did…” Teddy started. “How did you get in? Your folks hear that Barton was going coed and got you in?”

You shook your head. “I went to Central High School, in Boston,” you replied. “I was doing a research project and saw in a newspaper that Barton was going coed and having a lottery for the first female student. I sorta put my name in as a joke, and then, when I won, it… Wasn’t really a joke anymore. I had to take some academic placement tests, since Central isn’t exactly a highbrow school, and I got a scholarship that covered a lot of my tuition. The board of trustees waived the rest of it, so…”

“You’re going here for free?” Teddy asked incredulously. “Jesus, I didn’t even know we had scholarships.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, Kountze,” a voice said from nearby, and you turned your shoulder to see the boy from chapel who didn’t give a shit about you. He stood tall, rail thin, a mop of dark curls on top of his head. He had eyes like black holes, his pale skin so translucent around his eye sockets that he had purplish-red bags underneath. “Nobody’s going to tell the bottom scum about possible academic achievements. It’s cruel to tease people with something they’ll never have.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” Teddy snapped. “Don’t you have some porno mag waiting for you?”

The boy (you supposed his name was Tully) pushed his hands into the pockets of his coat and skulked away, and you scoffed under your breath. “Charming,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t tear your gaze away from his back as he left the scene.

“Jesus, yeah,” Teddy said. “That’s Angus Tully. Biggest asshole here, thinks he’s better than everyone else. God knows why, he’s such a fuckin’ loser. He’s in Hunham’s fourth period too.”

You furrowed your eyebrows at Angus Tully’s back, and then redirected your attention to Teddy, who was presently snubbing out his cigarette with the toe of his shoe. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” you said softly, and, without another word, departed for your dorm.

You appreciated that Barton had built a separate dorm for the female students, but, seeing as you were the sole resident of the building, you were irked by it. It was too big and empty, too lifeless and soulless. Certainly, they had built it with future generations in mind, hoping that more girls would eventually enroll and prove the building a necessity, but, for now, you found yourself aching with loneliness. You missed your mom and your sisters, in your small apartment in downtown Boston, just a few blocks from your old high school. You missed hearing Linda Ronstadt records playing from your older sister’s room (the one she shared with your mom), or the ceaseless sound of the air conditioning unit buzzing away in the window of your room (the one you shared with your other older sister). Barton just felt too… Good for you. But, it was as your mother had told you: it was an opportunity that you could not afford to pass up.

You didn’t have a lot to unpack, and you hung up your clothes as you chewed your lip. For some reason, the interaction outside the chapel was sticking with you. Not Teddy, although he certainly had made himself hard to forget. No, you were thinking about Angus Tully, apparently the head asshole of Assholedom. You would be seeing him tomorrow too, for the first day of classes, in Hunham’s Ancient Civ class. You had never taken a class like that— your old school didn’t even offer the Advanced Placement program, so obnoxiously pretentious classes like that were out of your realm of understanding— and you were almost worried that you would flunk right out.

You tossed and turned all night, dreading sunrise and morning. Breakfast was served at 7, and classes began at 8, beginning with Precalc for you, then transitioning into Biology. After third period free, you had Ancient Civ, then an hour for lunch, then Home Ec, then your last few hours of the school day were reserved for something that, on the fax paper that you had been given at the front office, was called “Secretarial Studies”. You hated to think what that meant (surely, Barton wasn’t trying to prime you for being a secretary and nothing more), but mostly, it meant that your school day basically ended earlier than for others.

You awoke early, showered and scrubbed yourself clean (the water pressure in the shower was better than the fourth floor apartment that you used to deal with), and you dressed yourself in what you hoped was becoming of a Barton girl. The dress had initially been purchased as an outfit for special chapel occasions, Christmas and Easter or whatever, but you knew that your regular jeans and wrinkled t-shirt wouldn’t be enough for your new shiny academy.

Once again, as you entered the cafeteria for breakfast, you felt all eyes on you. You scanned the room for an empty seat (you didn’t fail to spot Angus Tully, sitting at the cornermost table, not conversing with everyone else) and sighed when you saw an open chair right next to Teddy Kountze. He spotted you and waved, and you made your way over.

“Hey there,” Teddy said. “How was your first night?”

“Fine,” you shrugged noncommittally. “Kinda quiet, though.��

“Yeah, nobody else in the whole building,” Teddy sighed. “No roommates or anything; that must be nice.”

“Nah, not really,” you replied. “I got used to my mom and my sisters, and it was just too quiet. Not nearly enough chaos for me.”

“How many sisters do you have?” A boy across the table from you asked.

“Two,” you said. “Both older. And my mom lived with us too, so there was always something going on.”

“Shit, for sure,” the boy said. “Are you gonna join any clubs while you’re here? Or sports or something?”

You didn’t exactly love the way that the boy said that. “While you’re here”. Like you weren’t going to stay at Barton for very long. “I don’t know,” you shrugged. “I’ve never really been a sporty type. I might see if the yearbook needs help or something.”

“You could join chess club,” the boy laughed, and Teddy (and pretty much everyone else at the table) laughed too.

“Why? What’s so funny about chess club?” you asked.

“Nothing,” Teddy sighed as he finished laughing. “Except that Tully’s ugly mug is there.”

“Tully?” you repeated. “Angus?”

“Do you know him?” a different boy at the table asked.

“No, not at all,” you said quickly. “Just… Heard some stuff about him, that’s all. How he’s apparently a douche.”

“You’ll see,” Teddy assured you. “In class, try to challenge him on something. See how he reacts, and you’ll get why we all hate him.”

You wrinkled your nose at the thought, but decided to not let it bother you. You made your way to class, hanging close behind Teddy and not really listening to him as much as you were admiring the school building. It was so… Old. So was your old school, but Barton was beautifully old, whereas Central was just old. Dark, shiny wood everywhere, framed oil paintings of people; it was a feat. You finally separated from Teddy when you reached the classroom for Precalc, and you hesitantly stepped in. A handful of guys were there, sitting on their desks and chatting, and the room fell dead as you stepped inside. You hazarded a small smile, and quickly made your way to the back of the room, your preferred spot in any classroom, but you were stopped in your tracks.

Angus Tully. He sat in the back corner, close to the window, his tie loose and crooked around his neck. He was looking out the window, but his eyes slid over to you as you approached the desk beside him.

“Hi,” you said gently. “Can I… Um, can I sit here?”

Angus shrugged, as if he didn’t care, and you slung your bag across the back of the seat before you settled yourself down. You tapped your fingers on the desktop for a moment, wondering what the next course of action was, and you mumbled out, “I-I heard you were in chess club?”

“Yeah,” Angus grunted out. “What about it?”

“Oh, nothing,” you said, anxiously smoothing your skirt on your thigh. “Just, umm… I was wondering if there was, like… If you guys were open to new members.”

“Probably,” Angus said simply.

You nodded slowly, waiting for his next words, but they never came. “Right,” you said softly. “Okay.”

To your disappointment, Angus Tully and you shared every class together, except for your free period and Home Ec. His demeanor never changed a single bit throughout the day, sullen and curt. He didn’t speak during class, didn’t answer questions or even seem as if he was paying attention. It was odd. You were thinking about it as you settled into a desk in the back of the Ancient Civ classroom, and you yourself were hardly paying attention to the teacher, a one Mr. Hunham, until he called your name. “Miss?” he said, and you lifted your cheek out of your hand. “Would you like to introduce yourself?”

You blinked a few times, your face positively burning hot, and you cleared your throat. “I’m sure you all know my name by now,” you began. “Know that I went to a public school in Boston, got in here on a lottery and a scholarship… I guess there’s not much else to know about me.”

“Have you ever studied ancient civilizations before, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. He seemed well-meaning, if maybe a little sarcastic.

“No,” you told him.

“Any experience with Latin?” Mr. Hunham asked next.

You deflated. Shit. This was that sorta school? “No,” you said, a little quieter this time.

“Well, that’s alright,” Mr. Hunham said. “We’ll catch you up to speed. Now, gentlemen— Ah, and lady— let’s open our books to the first chapter.”

All during class, you felt hot tears pricking at your eyes. You were humiliated. All these words and names that everyone else seemed to know, and you had no fucking clue what any of it meant. It was all Greek to you— Latin, actually, but that didn't matter. As Mr. Hunham was mid-sentence about some sort of war, the bell to end the class sounded throughout the room, and you instantly closed your textbook and began to shove it into your bag. “Read the rest of the section tonight!” Mr. Hunham called over the sounds of your classmates packing up and chattering. “There will be a quiz on Friday!”

You shouldered your bag and tried to avoid eyes as you skated out of the room, but a voice saying your name held you back. You hoped your eyes weren’t red as you turned to see Angus standing limply in the hallway. He had stayed quiet during Mr. Hunham’s class too, sitting again in the back corner, and you had managed to forget about him as you wallowed in shame. “Yeah?” you asked.

Angus carefully walked closer to you, and he said, “The library has tutors sometimes. If you need help with Latin.”

“Oh,” you said softly. “Thanks. I just… Didn’t know people still spoke that.”

“Not really, it’s a dead language,” Angus said. “But it’s helpful sometimes in classes. A lot of Ivy League schools have Latin courses that are required.”

“Well, thank God I’m not going to an Ivy League school,” you chuckled mirthlessly. “I’ll be lucky if community college takes me.”

“You go to Barton, colleges will be fighting for you to go there,” Angus shrugged.

“But I’m not somebody,” you protested. “I’m not a senator’s kid, my dad isn’t a CEO, like… I just go here.”

“But the name is good enough for schools to want you,” Angus said. “They want the prestige, that’s all.”

You thought on it for a moment, and you mumbled, “Thanks, Angus. I’ll, um… See you tomorrow.”

The whole first week of classes progressed at a snail’s pace. Every day was torturous— all of your classes, except for Ancient Civ, were easy. Home Ec was a complete wash, since you already knew how to sew and cook, and Secretarial Studies was just as you had feared: teaching you to type, mostly, but nevertheless skills needed to do office work. You were a little offended; you were the only student in the class, which was helmed by the front office manager Ms. Crane. Obviously the boys didn’t have to take this class, so what was Barton trying to say?

Finally, it was Friday night. Your dorm building was quiet again, and, even though they had provided a rec room with a radio and a few bookshelves, there wasn’t too much for you to do. You curled a loose thread from your sweater around your finger as you considered your next move, and you sighed as you grabbed your keys and shuffled into your shoes.

You pushed your way into the boy’s dorm, and there was a palpable change in energy. The lights seemed brighter, the air thicker, sounds coming from all manner of places. Some doors were open, the residents standing and chatting, and you could distantly hear the sound of a television playing somewhere on the first floor. Much livelier, more lived in; you wished you could have been placed there instead. You followed the sound of the television down the hall, past the chatting boys, and you noticed how conversations paused as you passed by. You despised that.

The door to the rec room was wide open, and you peeked in nervously. The television was playing some rerun of Gilligan’s Island, and boys were scattered to all corners of the room. Some played pool, some sat on the couches, some stood by the open window and smoked, but everything seemed to stop as you crossed the threshold. You made your way to an empty section of the couch and sat down, grinding your teeth as boys young and old watched you. You sighed, and you said, “What’s going on?”

The boy next to you, some kid that you knew was in your Bio class but didn’t know his name, frowned. “Huh?” he asked.

You jerked your head towards the television. “The show,” you said. “What’s happening?”

“Oh,” the boy said, and everyone resumed their conversations. “Umm, don’t you have a TV in your dorm?”

“Just a radio,” you said with a shake of your head. “What episode is this?”

The boy shrugged. “Wasn’t really paying attention,” he said.

You bunched your mouth up and sighed again, and you stood up. You could sense the disappointment as you left the rec room, but you couldn’t stand being in there any longer. You knew that being ogled at came with the territory of being the only girl at a boys’ school, but you couldn’t imagine it would have been anything like this. You slipped your hand into the pocket of your jeans and found a few errant coins in there, leftover from some excursion from God knows how long ago, and you started up to the second floor. In your building, there was a bank of phones on the second floor, and it made sense to you that this building would be the same.

Luckily, you were right. There was just as much business on the second floor as on the first, but the little phone bank was a calm corner. You sighed and examined the phone for a moment, trying to find the slot to put your dime, and you frowned. What the fuck?

“Just dial nine, and then the number you wanna call.”

You jumped in fright. “Jesus Christ!” you seethed, whipping around to see Angus. He sat in a shadow of the phone bank, a book in one hand and a half-eaten apple in the other. He looked a little more casual than he did in class, his tie gone and shirt unbuttoned one or two to show the top of his undershirt. Still looked a little Grim Reaper in the face, though. “You scared the shit outta me.”

Angus huffed a short laugh through his nose. “Thought you saw me,” he said.

“I did not,” you mumbled. “Where’s the coin slot?”

“These aren’t payphones,” Angus told you. “Just dial nine for a non-school number, then dial away.”

You drew in a deep breath and shoved your dime back in your pocket, and you picked up the phone and started to rotate the dial, starting with nine, then going for your family’s apartment number. You felt Angus’s gaze seering on your back, and you cradled the phone to your shoulder as it rang. “Do you mind?” you asked.

“Do I mind what?” Angus asked.

“Scram, man,” you sighed. “I’m trying to call my mom, and I don’t want you listening to it.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come to a public phone if you wanted a private conversation,” Angus said, and you tilted your head at him in annoyance. “Doesn’t Blackwell have a phone bank?”

“Yeah,” you said. “But I didn’t wanna use it.”

“So you came here instead,” Angus said. “I think you like the attention.”

You swallowed thickly, anger tepid but starting to rise. “You don’t know me at all,” you bit at him.

“Why’d you come to this building to make your call if you knew that every guy would stop to stare at your ass?” Angus asked. “You knew that. You’ve been here a week, you know by now that you attract attention. I think you like it, but you can’t admit it because you have that whole quiet mystery girl thing going on.”

“Fuck off, Tully,” you mumbled. “I’m not here to be some goddamn puzzle for you to solve. And I’m not gonna fuck you if you figure out my backstory, so just go away.”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Angus asked smugly.

You glared at him and that stupid crooked smirk on his face. “Stop staring at my ass first and we might get somewhere,” you told him lowly, just in time for the call to pick up.

“Hello?” your mother said, and you sighed in relief.

“Mom, thank God,” you laughed lightly. “You took so long to answer, I was worried nobody was there.”

“Oh, no, pumpkin, I’m here,” your mom told you. “I was just in the shower.”

“Is Rachel not home?” you asked. “Or Anna?”

“Rach is at work,” your mom told you. “She picked up extra hours at Neiman Marcus. She thinks they might promote her to manager at the end of the year.”

“Oh, wow,” you mumbled. “Good for her. And Anna?”

“Started taking night classes,” your mom said. “She started on Monday too.”

“Cool,” you chuckled. “What’re you doing tonight? I think ABC is showing some sort of movie—”

“I’m going on a date,” your mom said, and your mouth went dry.

“What do you mean?” you asked. “Like… With a guy?”

“Yes,” your mom said carefully. “He’s nice, I met him at work. He’s taking me to a movie and dinner.”

“That’s…” you started. “Cool, Mom. Good for you.”

“What about you?” your mom asked. “Surrounded by all those boys, there has to be someone who’s caught your eye.”

You sighed. Your lip trembled, and you closed your eyes. You were acutely aware that Angus was still sat behind you, and the fact that you hadn’t heard his book turn in a few minutes meant that he was absolutely listening to your phone call, the little shit. “No, not really,” you said. “Everyone here is either too rich, too smart, or too… Asshole-ish. Some are even all three.” You made a point to turn your head towards Angus, and you heard his little huffing laugh before you turned back to the phone.

“Oh, well,” your mom said. “Maybe you’ll find someone. How are classes?”

“Fine, I guess,” you said. “I’m taking a class about ancient civilizations, and apparently I missed the class where they teach Latin, so I’m sorta lost. And Home Ec sucks because I already know how to do all that. And they’re making me take something about how to be a secretary, and that’s so infuriatingly sexist that it makes me angry.”

“It’s a bunch of men, in charge of a bunch of boys,” your mom sighed. “They’re trying their best to adapt to you.”

“I can’t even take gym class because they don’t have a place for me to change clothes,” you lamented. “Not that I wanna take gym anyway, but you see why I’m upset!”

“I know, pumpkin, it’s okay,” your mom said.

“Why would they go coed if they can’t even integrate girls in properly?” you sighed. “I wish I had just stayed home and gone to Central. Would’ve saved me a lot of trouble.”

“You’ll be alright, you’re still just adjusting,” your mom assured you. “But… If, by Christmas, you still don’t feel like you belong there, I’ll pull you out and you can go back to Central. But I have to know by Thanksgiving, so I can start the paperwork in time for spring semester”

“Sure,” you said. “That sounds good to me.”

“Alright, baby,” your mom said. “Richard will be here any minute, and I have to finish getting ready. I’ll be at work until 4 tomorrow, but call any time after, okay? I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” you mumbled, and you held the plastic phone by your face as you listened to your mother hang up and the dial tone drone. After a moment, you hung the phone back up on the hook, and you readied yourself for Angus’s petty insults as you turned to leave the phone bank. But they never came. You eyed him, sitting there on the wooden bench, his dark eyes focused on yours, and you snapped, “What?”

“Nothing,” Angus said lightly, sliding back into the darkened corner and picking up his book. “Nothing at all.”

That was your weekly exercise. Week in and week out, all you did was classes. You wanted to avoid as many interactions with the others as possible, so you stayed quiet during class, kept to yourself, didn’t accept invites to parties or football games or to sit at lunch tables. You took to having lunch with Ms. Crane in the front office, and she seemed to commiserate with you about all the boys. “Some of these kids are real stinkers,” she told you. “But they’re teenage boys. I think it’s a law that they have to be.”

Your saving grace was the deal you had made with your mom. If you could just wait until Christmas break, you could go back to your old school, to your old friends, and you could forget about the hell that was Barton. You kept your grades up, so that Central could see that you hadn’t turned into some kind of slacker, and you consistently got B’s and A’s in your classes. Except for Ancient Civ.

The exam booklet slapped down on your desk, a red F blazoned across the front. You sighed and started to thumb through it, trying to figure out where you went wrong as the other boys also realized their grades were low, and your heart sank when you saw all of the multiple choice questions without a flaw. So it was your essay question that led you astray. On the very last page of the booklet, you found your essay, handwritten yesterday on something about ancient philosophers, and a red note in Mr. Hunham’s handwriting. See me after class.

You could hardly pay attention to the conversation between Teddy and Mr. Hunham. Your mind was racing, wondering what he wanted to talk to you about. You should have gotten a perfect score, but something held that back. Surely he didn’t think you had cheated? Or copied someone else’s work? You thought that you and Mr. Hunham got along (as well as any student can get along with their strict, hardass teacher) and your heart sank at the thought that you had definitely somehow disappointed him.

“... Offer a makeup exam” got your head out of the clouds, and you focused on Mr. Hunham at his podium. “You’ll all get a second run at this after break.” The class muttered and mumbled, only to be cut through by Mr. Hunham’s next words: “Of course, it will not be the same exam. You will now be responsible for new material as well. Your grade will be an average of the two.”

As Mr. Hunham instructed the class to open their books to a new chapter, you were shocked, along with everyone else, when Angus spoke. “No offense, sir,” he began, and you sucked in a breath. You had learned that, whenever any of the boys at Barton didn’t intend offense, that offense was certainly on its way. “But is this really the best time to be starting a new chapter? I mean, we all appreciate the, uh, makeup exam gesture… But our families are here.”

You rolled your eyes. Speak for yourself, Tully. Your mom had to work that day, as did both of your sisters, and you gotten instruction to take a Greyhound into Boston and someone would meet you at the bus station to bring you home. It wasn’t exactly the best plan, but it was what worked. Your mom had arranged with Barton to let you back on campus during break to empty your dorm room, and you sighed a thing of relief. Almost done. You were so close to leaving Barton in your dust and washing your hands of the entire school.

“Most teachers have already canceled class,” Angus continued. “We have chapel in forty minutes, then we’re out of here. I mean, our heads are elsewhere.”

“And where exactly is your head, Mr. Tully?” Mr. Hunham asked, and Angus shrugged.

“Uh, I don’t know. St. Kitts.”

Jesus. Of course Angus Tully was going to fuckin’ St. Kitts for Christmas. You would be lucky if your family could afford to have the heat turned on for Christmas.

Your annoyance turned to dire anger when Mr. Hunham decided to scrap the idea of a makeup exam and dismissed the class without another word. You hurried to shove your exam booklet in your bag, and you glared at Angus as you edged out of your row. “Thanks a lot, dick,” you mumbled, then left the room, not even waiting to see Angus’s response. Your heart raced as you tailed Mr. Hunham, and you finally called his name as he approached the door to his private office.

“Ah, Miss,” Mr. Hunham chuckled. “Yes, yes, let’s sit down and discuss your exam.”

“I-I didn’t do anything wrong,” you said hurriedly as he unlocked the office door. “I didn’t cheat or plagiarize, you didn’t even mark off any points. I don’t understand why I failed.”

Mr. Hunham said nothing as he led you into his office, and you wrinkled your nose. God, it smelled bad in there. Nevertheless, you sat down in one of the chairs across from his desk, and you waited with bated breath as he sat down in his seat. He examined you for a moment, for long enough for you to start to feel weird under his walleyed gaze, and, finally, he said, “In actuality, Miss, you didn’t fail. You got the highest score in the class.”

“B-But I got an F…” you protested. “Angus Tully got a B!”

“I wrote an F on your paper, but you actually got a 98,” Mr. Hunham told you. “Near-perfect score, I only took off in your essay question for misspelling ‘Periclean’.”

“Oh,” you mumbled. “Then, why’d you write an F on my paper?”

“Because I was disappointed in you,” Mr. Hunham said. You felt sick. Your skin was hot and your stomach roiled, and hot tears pricked at your eyes. “I heard from Ms. Crane that you were leaving Barton.”

You nodded silently.

“And why is that?” Mr. Hunham asked.

You sighed. “I miss my old school,” you admitted with a thick throat. “My old friends. Nobody likes me here, and I… Just think I’d be better off back home. I’m not a Barton person.”

“What is a Barton person to you, Miss?” Mr. Hunham asked. His hands were clasped at his chin, his bifocals in his fist. He seemed genuinely concerned about you.

“Someone not me,” you said. “Rich… Smart… Important. All those guys are gonna go to good colleges, and I’m gonna be stuck waiting tables my whole life.”

“You are smart, Miss,” Mr. Hunham told you. “You passed all your classes with flying colors, you made Latin look like a piece of cake. If you wanted to, you could go to any college in the country. Or the world!”

“I wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for that stupid lottery,” you mumbled. “I don’t belong here, sir, we both know that.”

Mr. Hunham fixed his mouth in a thin line and sighed, and he said, “Of course. Well, I do hate to see you go. Your essay on the siege of Troy was… Very good.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled. “Umm, have a nice Christmas, I guess… See you around.”

Chapel that day felt exactly the opposite to your first chapel at Barton. The dread that had filled the air at the beginning of the semester had now changed to an excitement about going back home, and, even though you still felt like everybody was staring at you, you couldn’t shake the feeling. You were done. You had made it. After you moved during break, you’d never have to lay an eye on Barton or any of those boys ever again. You had to admit that you were going to miss Ms. Crane, and maybe even Mr. Hunham too, but the positives far outweighed the negatives.

After chapel let out, you hurried back to Blackwell Hall and grabbed your suitcase and changed out of your nice dress, and you made your way to the front of campus, where a Greyhound bus sat, waiting to take kids into the city. You stepped on board, taking a seat towards the back of the bus, and you looked out the window at one last gaze at Barton Academy. Although, you couldn’t admire the architecture or the pretty way the snow glistened in the midday sun. No, you could only see the tall, lanky, dark-haired kid standing on the steps of the chapel, waiting for someone.

Even though you despised Angus Tully and didn’t really care if he lived or died, it was a sad sight to see him waiting like that. He looked so dismayed and forlorn, his suitcase at his feet, his hands in the pockets of his winter jacket. Maybe in another world, you and Angus could have been friends. Your mind wandered, thinking of meeting Angus somewhere else— your mind conjured the image of a bookstore, reaching for the same book and having a little back and forth on who should have it, before Angus acquiesced, but not before writing his phone number in the book.

The rumble of the bus nearly lulled you asleep on the two and a half hour drive to Boston, and you roused yourself as the bus pulled into the station. Gathering your things, you departed, along with a handful of other Barton boys. They quickly found their families that were waiting on them, and you wandered through the station. Your mother hadn’t indicated who would be picking you up, or where in the station to meet them, and you made your way to a payphone. You were sure she was at work, but you wondered if you could call the restaurant and ask for her. Before you could put your dime in the phone, though, you heard your name being called, and you looked to see an older man smiling at you from across the room.

Fear flashed hot in your face, but you kept your composure as the man approached you. “Hey, you look just like how your mom described you,” he laughed. “I’m Rich.”

“Who?” you asked.

“Rich,” he repeated. “I’ve been seeing your mother for a few months. She’s working the afternoon shift, and your sisters are both busy, so your mom asked me to get you.”

“Oh,” you nodded. “Right, yeah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You seem tired,” Rich told you. “Long day?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” you chuckled. “I’m just glad to be done with Barton, that place can go to hell.”

“I thought Barton was a boys’ school,” Rich mumbled.

“It’s a long story,” you sighed. “But whatever, that’s in my rearview now.”

“Alright,” Rich said. He seemed confused, but he took up your suitcase for you. “We already put fresh sheets on the pullout, so when we get back, you can take a nap if you want—”

“The pullout?” you repeated. “Am I not sleeping in my room?”

Rich winced. “Ah, well,” he began. “You see, my daughter is sleeping there, and—”

“Your—” you started. “Why is she in my room?”

“The bed was vacant,” Rich shrugged. “She’s lived there for a few months now.”

“And why is your daughter living with my mom?” you asked. “Do you… Did you move in?”

“Well, when your mother and I got married, we figured it was the logical thing to do.”

Your heart nearly stopped. Married. Your mother had gotten married, and hadn’t told you a single thing about it. No wedding invite, no pictures, not even a ‘hey, Rich and I are getting hitched!’ You felt sick and lightheaded, and you tried to take a steadying breath. It just sounded all shaky and unsure, though, and it made you feel even worse. “I, uh…” you began. “I…”

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” Rich asked, and the camel’s back broke. Nobody can call you that but your mom.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” you asked. “Rolling in here, doing all this bullshit, and for what? Are you trying to prove something? Win an award or what? Let’s see how quickly we can marry the single mom, that’ll go down great with her three adult children!”

“Rachel and Anna said they were okay with it,” Rich said.

“But you didn’t ask me!” you cried. “God, this is exactly what she wanted, huh, throw me in a boarding school and forget all about me? Fuck this, I don’t need this.” You snatched your bag from Rich and turned on your heel quickly, and you didn’t even hesitate when Rich called “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here!”

You begged and pleaded with the Greyhound driver to take you back to Barton. He said that he had to stick to a schedule and was really sorry, but he changed his tune when you dug into your bag and grabbed your pocketbook, pulling out a few 20s. You didn’t have a lot of money in the first place, and watching those bills go in his pocket hurt, but, in the end, you got back to Barton just as the sun was starting to set. You knew that whoever was staying over break would be shocked to see you (maybe even elated, depending on who it was), but you didn‘t care about reactions. You just didn’t want to think at that moment.

You followed the low din of boyish muttering to the cafeteria, and you steeled your nerves for entering. You could discern only two voices, maybe a third if you listened through the thick door hard enough, and you quickly pushed on the metal handle in the middle of the door to slam the door open.

Heads whipped towards you. You didn’t recognize a lot of them— some younger kids, and a guy that was on the football team and was a senior— and your heart sank into your stomach when you saw Teddy Kountze sitting at the dinner table. So you would be spending Christmas break with Teddy. Great.

But the bad feeling got worse when you saw who was sitting one seat down from Teddy. Angus fucking Tully. He stared at you with no joy or humor in his eyes, and you huffed out a breath.

“Miss?” Your gaze went to the head of the table, and a little bit of relief washed over you as you saw the face of Mr. Hunham. Was he supervising the holdovers? “What’re you…?”

“Got room for one more?” you mumbled, approaching the table and securing the seat between Teddy and Angus. You instantly reached for the serving dishes, wanting anything to occupy your shaking hands, and you slowed to a stop as you noticed the whole table staring at you; even Angus wasn’t trying to hide it, his black eyes as big as dinner plates. “What?” you barked, and the energy resumed at the table in a snap.

Dinner was finished soon after, and Mr. Hunham pulled you into the hall as the boys were cleaning up. “I thought you were going home to Boston for the holiday?” he asked gently.

“I can’t…” you started. “It seems like I don’t even have a place in my own family.”

“What do you mean?” Mr. Hunham asked.

“My mom got married without telling me,” you told him. “And the guy and his daughter moved into our apartment, which could barely fit me and my mom and sisters in the first place, and now they’re there, a-and she’s in my room! That fucking bitch is in my room, and I-I—”

“Easy, easy,” Mr. Hunham said, putting his hand out to placate you. “Calm down. Listen, I understand that this is hard, it’s awful, but resorting to that is not what’s going to help you. We’ll find a place here for you tonight, and tomorrow we can call your mother and try to get this straightened out.”

“Can I not go to my dorm?” you asked.

“The school shut off heating and plumbing everywhere except the main building,” Mr. Hunham explained. “We’re sleeping in the infirmary.”

“Jesus Christ,” you huffed. You were so angry that you could kick something. “So now I gotta bunk up with them?”

“It’s definitely not ideal,” Mr. Hunham mumbled. “But it’s just for one night. We can put up a partition, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“Fuck it, whatever,” you sighed. Your eyes hurt, and a headache was starting to throb at your skull, and you said, “I don’t care.”

The boys were split into two rooms, the youngers (and Angus) in one, and Teddy and Jason in the other. The only other empty bed was in Teddy and Jason’s room, and you were quick to settle in and start off for the bathroom. Just as you were leaving, though, a beanpole in a white shirt and flannel pajama pants stopped you in the doorway.

“Hey,” Angus said curtly. “Where’re you going?”

“Shower,” you told him. “Brush my teeth, stuff like that.”

“Why did you come back?” Angus asked. “A little birdy told me that you were quitting Barton.”

“I…” you started. You wanted to tell him everything, but you were worried about the leverage he’d have if he knew. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“Nah, I think it is,” Angus said with narrowed eyes. “We know why everybody is holding over. His parents are on a mission trip, his family is in Korea, Kountze The Cunt’s having his house remodeled, and Jason’s dad is waiting for him to cut his hair. Why’re you here?”

“Why’re you here, Angus?” you asked. “I thought you were going to St. Barts or St. Kitts or something.”

“Obviously not,” Angus said quickly.

“Then, I’m obviously not quitting Barton,” you said, and instantly regretted it. “I might be… Haven’t decided yet.”

“What, don’t you like it here?” Angus asked. “Isn’t it a glorious beacon of education and brotherhood—” He stopped himself, dramatically clenching his fist in front of his face. “Oh, that’s right. Brotherhood.”

“Shut up,” you huffed.

“C’mon, man, leave her alone,” you heard Jason start from the room behind you, but Angus either didn’t hear or didn’t care.

“You left, and then came back,” Angus said. “What’s wrong? Mommy decided she didn’t want you anymore?”

You couldn’t help yourself from letting your tears spill over your lashes, and you clenched your teeth. Angus held your eye contact for longer than you thought he would, and he only averted his eyes when your tears gathered at the corner of your mouth. You drew in a shaking breath, aware that everybody was staring at you, watching you cry, and you sniffled and left the room without another word. The showers were empty, and you jerked the handle to start the water, then locked the door to the room.

Your tears flowed freely then, and you sat on the tile floor and sobbed into your hands. You hoped that Angus could hear you crying from down the hall, and you hoped that he felt bad about his words. Knowing him, though, he had forgotten about you as soon as you left his eyeline.

By the time you finished your crying and your shower, the lights were off in both the rooms, a soft snoring coming from Teddy and Jason’s (and your) room. Your pajamas didn’t feel like they were enough for the cold in the infirmary, and you edged by the snoring Teddy in his bed to get to yours. The sheets were crinkly and dry and rough, and you bundled the wool blanket up to your chin as you tried to sleep.

That was destroyed, though, when you heard a “Psst!” come from the doorway.

You sighed. “Fuck off, Angus,” you mumbled sleepily.

“Just— Can I—?” Angus huffed. “I’m trying to apologize to you.”

“I don’t want your fuckin’ apology,” you said. “Just leave me alone.”

“I shouldn’t have said that to you,” Angus whispered. “I was… Out of line. Or projecting or something, I don’t know. My mom and stepdad went to St. Kitts, but uninvited me so they could celebrate their honeymoon. I guess I’m just familiar with how it feels to not be wanted.”

You sighed and rolled over to face the doorway, and you settled yourself up on your elbows. “Can you just…” you started. “Think before you speak? I know it doesn’t really seem to matter to you, but sometimes, words hurt. Like, really hurt.”

“I know,” Angus mumbled. “I’m sorry.”

“You really have to work on not being a huge asshole,” you told him. “You know, nobody here likes you. They all call you names and shit.”

“I know,” Angus said. “I don’t care. But you’ve gotta try to not be so judgmental. I think you write off everyone here because we’re from different tax brackets. Some of us don’t have it easy.”

You pressed your lips together. “Fair enough,” you said finally. “I’ll, um… Keep that in mind.”

“Alright,” Angus said. “Good night, then.”

“‘Night,” you said, and you watched Angus stalk out of the doorway and back to his room. You sat for a few moments more, thinking about how easily Angus had read your thoughts, and you wondered if the other boys could see right through you as easily. You were almost humiliated all over again at the thought that everyone could read you like that, but it didn’t matter. When the morning came, you’d call your mother and work out whatever the problem was, and you would be home in Boston by the next night.

It didn’t work out that way. You called your mother twice in the morning; the first time, she didn’t pick up the phone, and the second, she would hardly talk to you. “Mom, I just wanna know what happened,” you pleaded. “Why didn’t you tell me? I-I would’ve been supportive!”

“Would you?” your mother asked.

“Yes!” you sighed. “I wouldn’t have been happy, but I would’ve accepted it if you were happy!”

“Then, why can’t you accept it now?” she asked.

“Because you didn’t tell me!” you replied. “You didn’t ask me how I felt about it, if I wanted it to happen, if I even like the guy— I hadn’t even met him once before you did it!” You paused, chewing your lip, and you said, “Mom. Tell me the truth. Are you pregnant?”

“No, pumpkin, I’m not,” she sighed, but you could tell she was nearing her wit’s end.

“Is that why you hurried to marry him?” you asked. “I-I’m telling you, I don’t care that you got married, I’m just upset because you didn’t tell me!”

“Okay, stop,” your mom said firmly. “I thought you’d be happy for me, baby.”

Anger flared in your stomach. “Dad hasn’t even been gone for a full year yet,” you mumbled. “And you’re already replacing him.”

“We all mourn differently, pumpkin,” she said. “I’m sorry that you can’t see that Rich makes me happy. I... I don’t feel lonely with him.”

“Well,” you sighed. “If this is how you mourn Dad, I don’t think I wanna come home. I think I’ll stay at Barton.”

“Where are you gonna go after the holiday ends?” your mom asked.

“Staying here,” you said plainly. “I can personally go up to Central and withdraw my paperwork over break. If you want to erase me and my father from your life so bad, then you’ve got your fuckin’ wish.” You slammed the phone back on the receiver with shaking hands, and you turned to leave the front office, only to run straight into—

“Fuck off, Angus,” you sniffled, side-stepping him and starting down the hall, back to the infirmary.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Angus said quickly, snatching your wrist in his hand and tugging you back. “What happened? Are you going home?”

“No,” you sighed. “I’m staying here. I never wanna see any of them again.”

“You said something about your dad…” Angus mumbled. “Is that true? Your dad’s dead?”

You wiped at your eyes, and your chest went hot. “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you mumbled.

Angus sighed, and, for once, he did something nice for you. He pulled you into an embrace, not too tight but not so loose that it felt like he didn’t care, and you pressed your cheek into his shoulder. “My dad’s dead too,” Angus whispered. “You don’t have to talk about it, but… I sorta get it.”

You sniffled again, and you finally let your arms wrap around Angus’s thin body. You sat in silence for a moment, hugging each other, and you only parted when you heard a small scuttle from down the hall, near the infirmary door. Your head turned to see the youngest kid, Alex, standing, watching you two, and you stepped away from Angus and wiped your face. “Guess I’m staying,” you mumbled.

“Guess so,” Angus echoed.

The days were monotonous. Hunham would wake you up when the sun rose with a declaration of “It’s daylight in the swamp!”, and you would go through the routine of studying, then exercise, then more studying, then a little bit of free time. In the absence of gym class for months, the exercising was a little difficult, and you were left exhausted and panting every time, and you felt awkward with the guys around. However, after that brief moment with Angus, he had started to be… Better. He was still a dick most times, but he would do little things for you now; pass you the lunch dishes instead of sliding them in your direction, offer to sharpen your pencil during study time. It seemed that finding a similarity had broken his shell for you a bit, and you appreciated it.

You had taken to helping the cook with meals. Mary Lamb was a good woman that you had minimally interacted with (she had come and given a lesson in Home Ec about cooking, which really nobody paid attention to, but you had made a point to), and you felt a special kinship with her because of her Curtis. She was the only one you told the truth about your father to, and you knew that Mary wouldn’t say anything to the others about it. She seemed as if she appreciated the help in the kitchen, especially from someone who was competent there like you were. You liked talking to Mary, hearing her stories and letting her hear yours.

Just as you were starting to think that maybe break wouldn’t be all that terrible, less than a week into it, things changed. You shivered in the cold library, despite your sweater, and you tried to focus on the textbook in front of you, but it was nearly impossible. Angus was sitting next to you, and, every so often, his hand would inch out and he would doodle a little figure in the corner of your notebook. You rolled your eyes jokingly at him, trying not to laugh so Hunham wouldn’t fuss at you, and you shifted in your seat a bit to reach Angus’s notebook. You began to crudely sketch him, big dark eyes and messy hair, and he stifled a snort. Mean, he wrote underneath your sketch.

Accurate, you countered.

Before either of you could write anything else, there came an odd sound from outside. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder and louder, and you looked upwards, as if the ceiling of the library would allow for any sort of view of what the noise was. It was a loud chopping noise, growing ever louder and louder, drawing the attention of all of you, and even Hunham closed his book and said “What the hell is that?”

But, from across the table, a smile grew on Jason’s face, a knowing grin, and, all at once, everybody stood from their seats and went to the window. You couldn’t see as well as the others, being shorter than everyone else, but Angus put a gentle hand on your side and pushed you in front of him, letting you get closer to the window. His hand, positioned just above your hip on your torso, made a shiver run down your spine, but you attributed it to the sight of a goddamn helicopter buzzing overhead, lowering itself onto the snowy, abandoned football field. “I knew it!” Jason exclaimed. “He finally caved, the big softie!”

“What the fuck is that?” you asked quickly.

“Jason’s dad owns a helicopter,” Angus explained under his breath as Jason pushed away from the window with excitement.

“Any of you guys like to ski?” Jason called as he left the library, and the younger boys gasped with excitement. You all caught onto the idea at the same time, and the boys filed out, following Jason, but you stayed still at the window, watching the helicopter’s blades slow to a stop.

“Miss?” Hunham asked, and you closed your eyes. “Aren’t you going with them?”

You shrugged, hoping to seem less hurt than you actually were. “I can’t,” you said. “I don’t have any skiing gear or whatever, I’ve never even done it before… And anyway, I’m not about to call my mom to ask for permission to do that.”

You sat in the hallway outside the office as Hunham called all of the boys’ parents, being granted permission for the excursion, listening as each boy reacted with glee. It felt like a sick joke; of course you were left all alone again. Before you could ruminate on it for too long, the beanpole came and sat himself next to you, quiet as he scratched absently at his chin.

“Want me to get you anything from up there?” Angus asked. “Fridge magnet or postcard or…?”

You shook your head. “No,” you managed with a heavy, thick throat. “Thanks, though.”

Angus sighed, his eyebrows furrowing together as his jaw tightened, and he tilted his head towards you. His dark eyes looked soft, kinder than you had ever seen from him or thought was capable, and he said, “Sorry.”

You couldn’t help yourself. Your tears spilled and you clawed your fingernails into your palm, trying to stop from sobbing and heaving, and Angus moved closer to you, until his hip touched yours. He slung a skinny arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, his hand gently pressing into your head and ushering you to hide in his neck. He shushed you, whispering “If Hunham sees you crying, he’ll think I did it”, which did nothing other than make you laugh a little and sniffle hard.

You quickly parted from Angus’s warmth, wiping your eyes with your hand and seeing your mascara smear on the back of your hand. “Gonna go to the bathroom…” you mumbled, and Angus nodded, keeping his seat as you stood up and hurried down the hall. The women’s bathroom next to the office was hardly used, only ever you, Ms. Crane, and the lone visitor using it, and you clutched the porcelain sink as you gasped for breath. Jesus Christ. Would anything ever go your way? Being stuck at Barton over the holidays with the other boys sucked, sure, but now you were all alone with Hunham and Mary. Alone again. You wondered if you’d always be alone.

You ripped off a paper towel and dabbed at your eyes, trying to fix your makeup, and you pressed cold water to your face to try to calm yourself down. Fuck everything about this. It was unfair. Maybe Hunham would take it easy on you, loosen the reins a little. You trashed the paper towels and adjusted your sweater, trying to seem put-together, and you stepped out of the bathroom to see Hunham and Angus standing outside the office, embroiled in an intense conversation. “... Just one more time, please,” you heard Angus say, and Hunham put his hand up.

“There’s no point,” Hunham said. “The front desk says they’re not answering. He says they’re away on some excursion.”

You started closer, and you watched Angus’s face fall, his eyes narrowing. He mumbled something under his breath, and Hunham harrumphed. “I’m as disappointed as you are, if not more so,” he said. “I could’ve been spending the rest of my vacation reading mystery novels.”

“Angus?” you said, and he slid his eyes over to you. “Are you… What’s happening?”

Angus shot Hunham a deathly look, and he side-stepped your teacher, brushing past you, his arm knocking your shoulder. You locked eyes with Hunham, then quickly turned and started off after Angus. His long legs had carried him down the hall quicker than you were capable of, and you sped up a bit. “Angus!” you called for him, and you finally came up on him at the door to the infirmary, taking his arm in your hand. “What’s going on?”

“I’m staying here,” he said bitingly. “Mom and Stanley aren’t answering their phone.”

On some level, you were glad Angus was staying. At least it wouldn’t be just you there. And you were glad it was Angus, as opposed to Teddy or someone else. “Oh,” you managed. “Well, umm…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” Angus said flatly. He leaned up against the doorway to the infirmary, listening to the other boys packing up, and he added, “In fact, I’d rather you didn’t say anything.”

You sighed, flicking your eyebrows. “Got it,” you mumbled. Your eyes lifted from the floor to see Ye-Joon, bag in hand, and he softly bid Angus a happy holidays, giving you a curt smile as he edged out of the infirmary. Jason lightly touched Angus’s arm as he told him to take care, doing the same to you before he departed, and you made eye contact with Teddy as he shouldered his bag. He didn’t have his sights set on you, though; he spoke to Angus.

“I guess that just leaves you and the chick, huh?” Teddy asked. “Be sure to do all your homework— and no funny stuff while we’re gone.”

If you could have swung a punch at Teddy, you would have. All the boys at Barton were the exact fucking same— Secretarial Studies, sex jokes, it was never-ending and never-changing. You watched Angus’s neck go flushed, and Teddy added, “Oh, almost forgot! I found that picture you were looking for.” Quickly, he stuck a square Polaroid in Angus’s shirt pocket, and a smile crossed Teddy’s face. “Merry Christmas, Mr. Tully. You too, Miss. See you after break.” He winked at you, making your skin crawl, and he departed the room with a chuckle as Angus snatched the picture from his pocket. From your vantage point, you couldn’t see what it was, only the back that read HAPPY HOLIDAYS, but Angus’s mouth screwed up at it, and he flicked it down onto the ground. Your eyes followed it, and you saw a portrait of a family, a mom and dad and a boy, and you recognized the dark eyes and sunken features of the boy. But, in a blank space of the picture, in Teddy’s handwriting, an arrow pointed to the boy and declared “Fuckwad”.

The cold was biting, even through your coat, as you stood on the football field and watched the boys load into the Smith’s helicopter. Your hands were deep in your pockets as you stared into space, wondering if it could get any worse. As the helicopter took off, the wind blew your hair back, and you watched as it rose, up, up, and away. A heavy energy fell over you three, and your teacher let out a heavy sigh. “Well, let’s make the best of it,” Hunham said, flat but trying to put fake life into his words. The look in Angus’s eyes was harsh enough to kill, and Hunham averted his gaze from him over to you, his two little wards, the holdovers. “Shall we?”

#angus tully #angus tully x reader #dominic sessa #dominic sessa x reader #the holdovers

874 notes · View notes

seongclb · 11 months

Text

LIKE A MAGNET ! sim jaeyun

“you’ve called me a lot of things, sim jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

“not like that! i just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. kinda like a magnet..”

SYNOPSIS. whereby your academic rival, jake sim, returns after spending a year in australia to come back and restore his place: as top physics student but also your (hopefully) boyfriend.

PAIRING. academic rivals to lovers, slight enemies to lovers, flirty!jake x fmr

GENRE. fluff, light angst.

WARNINGS. cursing, jake being flirty, kissing but not making out.

WORD COUNT. 7512 words

N. finally out yelp i think this is not as good as i wanted it to be but i have to post as promised so pls make sure to give feedback and stuff !! special thanks to mari for beta reading :) i love u pooks

TAGLIST. @sjyuns <3… @dollkis @taejaysmain @dear-hoon @oldjws @jjakey02 @luvistqrzzz @yizhoutv @mrchweeee @darly6n @hoonieluv @ghostiiess @jaeyunsonlyone @en-happiness @loumin908 @tasnim10 @rikisly @samyu01 @ashrocker123 @enhastolemyheart @enhaz1 @viagumi @articxari @vnsux @mersmoon @jungwonderz

Kicking your shoes off, you step into your house as your mother frantically scours the house for her expensive china plates.

“Mum, what’s going on?” You wonder, looking around at the house and noticing how all your awards and family photos are out. You groaned, this only meant one thing - guests were coming today.

Great, you thought. After a tiring day with your best friends driving you mentally and physically insane, you now had to entertain guests in your own house when all you wanted to do was lay in the comforts of your bed.

“The Sims are back from Australia,” your Mum announces while pushing you up the stairs.

You pause as your heart plummets down your stomach, “What do you mean?”

Your mum chuckles, “The Sims! Don’t tell me you forgot about them already. It’s only been a year.”

“Mother, this has been the best year of my life. Why are they back? Wasn’t Mr Sim, like, settled in his new job? Why are they coming here of all places, too?”

Your mum narrows her eyes at you as your father steps into the room, struggling with his tie, “Ah, Y/n you’re home! You’d better go up and get dressed. The Sims are arriving soon.”

“So, I’ve heard,” you huff. “I know we’re family friends but shouldn’t they settle in their house first? Why are they coming here already?”

“Because,” your dad sighs. “Mr Sim and I have secured a business deal. We’re going to be partners in the firm soon, which is why they’re back. Of course, we have to welcome them with a nice meal.”

You groan and cross your arms, “Isn’t this something you discuss with your daughter first?”

Laughing, your dad pinches your cheek sweetly, “Now, why would this concern you? Go upstairs and get dressed, you must be hungry after practice today.”

It takes every fibre in your being to not stomp up the stairs in defiance. Sim Jaeyun, the cause of your distress throughout your entire school whole life was returning after a blissful year of peace. The mere thought of it made you want to rip every strand of hair out of your head.

Stepping into your room, your eyes immediately set on the expensive dress sitting on your bed that your mum laid out for you. Just as your parents requested, you hopped into the shower to prepare for the dreadful evening ahead. It’s not like you weren’t used to this; your parents worked in especially high fields and earned decent salaries. It was more than normal for them to have these important, yet over the top, dinners every few months meaning you had to dress up like this often. The only issue was him.

You could already hear his irritating giggles from your bedroom. Amazingly, they were the same as you had remembered.

Before you could even take a deep breath, there were soft knocks at your door, “Mum, I’m coming. Thirty seconds.”

There were the knocks again. Rolling your eyes, you swung your door open, ready to ask your mother why she couldn’t wait for thirty seconds, when you saw him leaning on the archway of the door. His lips were curled into that familiar smirk of his, yet Jake looked so different. His hair was much shorter, slicked back slightly but a strand of it falling onto his forehead.

It had only been a year, yet you were more than surprised to see Sim Jaeyun actually looking semi decent.

His eyes are playful as they rake over your figure, checking you out head to toe. The feeling of Jake’s eyes boring into you evoked a sense of insecurity to wash over. Since when did you care about him looking at you?

“Hurry up,” he ruffles your hair as he runs down the stairs. Forgetting about the annoying action he had just done, you pause for a moment; his words replaying in your mind. It seemed that Jake’s looks weren’t the only thing that was different but he had developed a strong Australian accent, too. It wasn’t attractive, though.

No, of course, not. That was impossible, being Jake Sim.

You fix your hair before following him into the living room where his parents are sitting on the couch in your living room.

Mrs Sim smiles at you as you greet her, “Y/n! You’ve grown so much.”

She engulfs you in a tight hug as you giggle, “No, I look the same. You look better than ever, of course.”

She shakes her head as she makes room for you on the couch, “Nonsense, you’ve gotten even prettier just like Jaeyun. He’s gotten so handsome now, right?”

You nod, sending an obvious fake smile towards his direction.

Jake clears his throat as he brings his glass of water to his lips, “Y/n, have you grown any taller since last year?”

You force a polite chuckle, despite wanting to throw your glass at the smile on his lips, “Maybe a few inches.”

Jake nods, pursing his lips to prevent a wider smile from breaking out, “I see.”

He sits opposite you at the dinner table, sending you winks every so often just to get a sneaky middle finger or a dirty look in return when no one was looking.

“Y/n, you’ll have to show Jaeyun around tomorrow,” Your dad says to you.

“I’m sure he knows where everythings been. It’s only been a year,” You smile.

Jake leans over, “I heard there were some changes. I’m afraid I might get late to some of my classes.”

You turn to Jake, “Oh, really? Who said that?”

“Sunghoon,” Jake smirks back at you.

You nod, of course he did. Sunghoon was the little provoker in your feud with Jake; always meddling to give Jake new ideas on how to annoy you. That was clearly one of his duties as Jake’s best friend since he had just given Jake another reason to irk you and follow you around tomorrow.

“So, why can’t he show you around?” You narrow your eyes.

Before Jake can answer, your dad interjects, “It’ll be better for you to do it, Y/n. I’m sure Sunghoon will have practice and other things tomorrow.”

The little shit was smiling way too hard, again. He just gets lucky too often.

The talk quickly turns into business amongst your parents, boring you completely so you use it as a perfect opportunity to excuse yourself to your room until your Mum says, “Why don’t you take Jaeyun to your room?”

Jake’s eyes grow as he smiles mischievously, “Yeah, you can show me what topics you have been covering in Physics. I don’t want to be behind.”

You take another deep breath, it got to the point where every breath now was slow and used to calm you down in order to stop you from lunging at the boy in front of you. He used every opportunity to get you to agree to yet another thing to help him with while your parents were around.

Jake followed you up to your room, standing at the doorway for a moment to look around your room at a different angle before stepping in and tracing his finger over all your trophies and pictures.

“Hey!” He calls, pointing at a particular picture of you with a trophy after winning the Science Fair competition. “We did this together, I’m in this photo. Did you crop me out?”

That day was quite fun, one of the only times that you and Jake had worked together rather than against one another, which was the usual dynamic. That occasion, your father had suggested for you two to work together. Even back then, it had created such dismay for you but you couldn’t deny that he was the reason why you two had won. You didn’t work well under pressured environments, so Jake had picked up the slack and presented most of it but you doubted that he did it for the sake of you. He definitely did it for the mere reason that he wanted to win.

You scoff at the pout on his lips as he picks up the frame, “Obviously. I’d get nightmares with a picture of you in my room.”

Jake touches the picture, a sigh of relief leaving his lips, “You didn’t cut it. You folded it.”

He dismantles the frame, unfolding the picture to reveal a younger version of him, “I was handsome back then, too. Keep it unfolded, you can use it for motivation.”

Fake gagging, you snatch the frame back from him and set it down, “I don’t need motivation. “So, how was Australia?”

Jake shrugs, playing with the Miffy plush that you cuddle to bed every night, “It was fun. Different from here. Better girls.”

You roll your eyes and respond sarcastically, “Sounds wonderful.”

“Jealous? Don’t worry, they didn’t compare to you,” Jake flirts.

“Ew!” Your face contorts in disgust. “Don’t make me throw you out of here, Jaeyun.”

He giggles and goes back to nosily touching all your things. You watch him in silence for a few more minutes, not minding Jake exploring your room. Jake’s parents call him from downstairs, initiating that it was time for him to finally leave.

“This new business deal means I’ll be seeing you more often than you’d like, angel.”

Your eyes flicker up to meet his briefly upon hearing the pet name before he leaves the room. He’s staring at you, searching for a response in your facial expressions but all you can focus on is the luring brown specks in his eyes. The Australian air must have done a number on him; this was not the SIm Jaeyun you knew. Of course, he still used to go out of his way to annoy you before, but the excessive winking and flirting was so unlike him. It was only until you heard him call you ‘angel’ that you realised how different Jake was, now.

You returned down the stairs to bid them goodbye.

“Y/n,” Jake’s father calls. “Jake and I will be here tomorrow morning to pick you up for school. We must repay the favour.”

“What favour?” You question.

Jake’s mother strokes your arm lovingly, and you wonder how a woman so kind can produce that devil staring at you by the door, “We’re so thankful that you’re tutoring Jake every weekend!”

You raise an eyebrow and look at your parents, who suspiciously are avoiding your eyes, “It’s no problem. Is this why Mr Sim is picking me up tomorrow?”

They nod and hug you goodbye, constantly reminding you of their appreciation.

With one last annoyed look towards your parents, you turn on your feet and head up to your room for the night to scream into your pillow about the return of Sim Jaeyun.

୨ৎ

The next morning, at the table while you wait for Jake and his father, you see your own come down the stairs to get ready for his own job.

“Y/n, you and Jake have to go to school alone. Mr Sim sends his apologies, he has a meeting,” Your dad informs you.

You groan softly at the light knocks on the door, knowing it was Sim Jaeyun. “That must be him,” your dad smiles as he opens the door. “Hi, Jaeyun.”

“Good morning, Mr Lee. Is Y/n ready?” Jake asks as he steps into the house and meets your annoyed eyes. Slinging your bag over your shoulder and walking towards Jake, you say bye to your father and leave the house with him.

“Why did your dad want us to go to school so early?” You huff. Jake smiles down at you, “So we could go get breakfast.”

He flicks his dads bank card in between his fingers, “Wanted me to thank you for that tutor thing. Did you know about that, by the way?”

You shake your head, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse. Did you?”

You look up at him and see he shakes his head, with a proud grin on his face, “Mum and Dad probably knew I would refuse, too.”

You stop and cross your arms at him, “Why would you refuse? I’m the top of the class, you should be honoured.”

Jake snickers, “You’re top of the class because I was in Australia for a year.”

He ruffles your hair before walking off, leaving you to curse at him under your breath.

With a croissant and a coffee in each of your hands, you walk through the school gates with Jake. As expected, all eyes are on him. Everyone knew him; you remembered the way everyone was heartbroken when he announced that he was leaving last year. Apart from you. You were busy bouncing off the walls to celebrate his departure as now, there was no debate about who the top physics student was. You knew it sounded condescending and extremely nerdy, but you worked hard for your grades; the title was deserved.

“I have to go to the principal's office,” Jake tells you.

“Go then,” You shrug. Jake tuts and drags you to the principal's office with him.

You fight off his grip on you, “I thought you didn’t know where anything was.”

Jake rolls his eyes, “Shut up and wait here. We have class together next, anyway.”

Just as you’re about to argue back, you realise that you do in fact have Physics next. Of course, he was in your class.

You sit and eat the breakfast that he bought you while you wait. Not long after, he exits the principal's office with a few books in his fingers.

“What are those?” You ask as you try to reach over and read them, only to have them held over your head and out of your reach.

“Don’t be so nosy,” Jake tuts. “Let’s go, we’re going to be late.”

You frown and follow him swiftly.

Jake opens the class door, and all eyes are set on him once again. Your Physics teacher calls him to the front while you rush to your seat at the back, away from all the gazes fixed on him.

Thanking God that your first lesson after the dreadful weekend was Physics was a waste since Jake was momentarily ordered to sit beside you.

“Is there a problem, Y/n?” Your teacher asks following your noises of protest.

You shake your head, not that it mattered to Jake who was already sitting in the seat beside you.

“Thankfully, I got placed next to my tutor. What would I do without you?” Jake drawls with a soft smile on his lips.

“Shut it, Sim,” you groan, snatching your things to your side of the table. “My side. Your side.”

Jake watches you pull out a thin ribbon and place it in the middle of the table.

Towards the end of the lesson, you’re assigned individual worksheet tasks that Jake gets done with smoothly. Unlike you, who is struggling slightly.

It’s not that the work is difficult to understand, but you’ve never been that close to Jake to see his hands. Despite your many attempts to focus on your work, your gaze is teared away from the Physics equations on your sheet and replaced with the sight of Jake’s hands only inches away from your own. In order to control your impulsive thoughts, you have to focus your full attention towards not touching his hands which is driving you absolutely insane.

Jake looks over his shoulder at your sheet, eyes widening slightly, “How are you still on the first question?”

Jolting slightly, you scramble to pick up your pen and mumble sometimes about getting distracted.

Jake bites his lip to prevent a giggle from escaping, “If you need help, you can ask me.”

“I don’t need your help,” You respond and commence with the work.

The bells to announce the end of the lesson go off soon after and you sigh in relief, packing your things instantly in order to get away from that nightmare sitting beside you.

Jake watches you pack up as if he was waiting to say something until Park Sunghoon and Jay Park run into the classroom.

“Jake!” Sunghoon smiles widely, Jay following shortly.

Jake grins, “I didn’t see you two this morning.”

“We had to meet up with the football (soccer) team before school. Join us after school today?” Jay asks.

Jake shakes his head, “Can’t. I have to study with my tutor.”

You dart your eyes over to him, “Not today.”

Sunghoon and Jay break out into fits of laughter.“No way, Y/n has to tutor you. That’s so unfortunate, Y/n,” Jay says to you, and you nod with a frown.

Jake furrows his eyebrows, “What’s so bad about tutoring me?”

“Dude, you don’t even need a tutor. Y/n, I’ve been asking you to tutor me for months now,” Sunghoon follows you around your desk.

“I didn’t have a choice!” You remark. “Our parents arranged it behind our backs.”

Sunghoon smiles, “What? Like an arranged marriage?”

“Ew!” You both said in unison.

Clearing your throat, you look at Jake again, “I’m not tutoring you today. They said weekends. “

You grab your bag and leave the room, rushing to find your best friends. Minji and Jieun are sitting at the usual bench near the football field, snacks laid in their laps as they discuss the precious lesson when you rush towards them.

Their attention immediately turns to you and Minji asks, “Y/n, is it true that Jake’s back?”

You huff and nod, “You’ll never believe it.” And, with that, you start filling them in on all the events that have occurred in far little time that you’d like.

They listen intently as you tell them every single detail since yesterday.

Jieun gasps, “How has this all happened in less than 24 hours?”

You shrug and steal a biscuit from her lap, “Honestly, I’m wondering the same thing. I didn’t even know he would be back 24 hours ago.”

Minji leans forward, “Shit, don’t look. Shit, shit, shit.”

Despite Minji’s request, Jieun turns her head with a car and gasps, too.

“What?” You ask, impatiently, wanting nothing more than to see what they were so intrigued about.

“Jake’s in a football shirt,” Jieun claps her hands together and you roll your eyes, although you turn your head ever so slightly to get a look. You don’t see Jake anywhere.

“Where?” You ask, now looking more closely.

Jieun and Minji giggle beside you and you close your eyes in anger after sudden realisation, “He’s not there, is he?”

“Nope,” Minji chuckles. You lightly shove her with your arm as she continues, “So, Y/n. A crush on Jake, huh?”

“Impossible!” you argue. “I was just looking because you guys were so shocked.”

You cross your arms and stuff your mouth with snacks as your friends stare at you in disbelief, “I do not like Sim Jaeyun.”

୨ৎ

Taking tests were usually anxiety inducing, but with your rival back, it was even worse than usual. Jake helped you separate the table into individual seats for the test, watching the way your fingers drummed on the table; a habit to get rid of the nerves.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take it easy on you, angel,” He whispers, leaning so close to your ear that you can feel his breath fanning onto your cheek.

“Ugh,” You shove him away. “Are you trying to make me vomit before the test so I can miss it and fail?”

Jake sneers, “As if I need to do something like that. I’ll get higher than you regardless.

“We’ll see about that Aussie boy.”

Jake's eyebrows raise upon the new nickname, his eyes gleaming as he watches you take the test paper into your hand and write your name before starting it. Jake leans back in his chair, twirling his pencil in his fingers before he too starts the test.

The school bells go off, signalling both the end of the school day and the test.

Jake stands behind you as you hand in your paper and exit the classroom.

He taps your shoulder, “Did you finish all the questions?”

You nod, “Yeah, did you?”

“Yeah, but I don't think I did that well. I guess it's good that I’ve got myself a tutor, huh?” Jake giggles beside you.

You almost laugh, instead concealing it with a roll of your eyes, “Lucky you.”

“Be ready for one, tomorrow,” Jake ruffles your hair, earning a smack on the arm from you, which he fake winces at. “You coming to the football game next Monday?”

“No,” You guffaw and watch Jake slip his hands into his pockets.

“Hm, I thought you were. A little birdie told me you were,” Jake shoves his phone into your face, revealing messages from your mother telling him that you would go.

Angrily, you twist Jake’s ear and he yelps, “Ow??? What was that for?”

“Many reasons,” You cross your arms. “You messaged my mum to get me to go to your stupid football game! Why do you even have my mothers number?”

Jake rubs his now pink ear, “She told me to take it for the tutoring sessions since you said no to giving yours. Plus, is it so bad that you’re coming? Your friends are there every day.”

“Yeah, to see the boys they like,” You shrug.

“There’s no one you want to watch play?” Jake asks, slipping his hands back into his pockets.

“I have no interest in watching anyone play.”

Jake hums again, turning his face to the side before clearing his throat, “That’s because no one wants you to watch them.”

You glare at him, “Then, why did you ask my mother to force me to go?”

Scorning, Jake responds, “I didn’t force her. I just mentioned it and she said to make sure you go. Why would I want you there?”

At his words, you feel your heart gain a few bruises but you play it off, “I’m not going.”

“Shut up, Lee. I’ll pick you up at 5 on Monday. Games at 6,” With that, Jake walks off to join his friends. You grab your phone and message your group chat with your friends.

You: It looks like I'm attending my first school football game next week.

Minji: You wanna tell me this isn't because of the Sim boy?

Jieun: LMFAO FR.

You: Dude messaged my mother to get me to go.

Jieun: No fucking way

Minji: Yeah, so when's the wedding?

You: shut up, we don’t like each other.

Minji: 🙄

Jieun: keep telling yourself that. Want us to pick you up?

You: no… he’s picking me up

Minji: act surprised!

Jieun: Suit yourself, I am surprised!

Usually, the weekends are more than enjoyable; being that you can sleep in bed for a few hours longer than usual without feeling like you're rotting away as you’re still up before noon which automatically means you're being productive. This weekend was different; just like every day has been since Jake has arrived back.

This was now yet another time that he’s randomly been in your house as if he lives there, and waiting for you to join him.

“You’re late,” He says, taking a bite of an apple.

“I forgot,” You respond and sit down at the table with your textbooks.

Jake sits beside you, smiling at your pyjamas, “Why are all of them so childish?”

You frown, “They’re not childish. Anyway, focus!”

Tutoring Jake reveals to be harder than you thought. He either gets distracted every few minutes with an odd would you rather question that he needs to hear your response to or he’s bragging about how he doesn’t need these tutoring sessions, and could easily beat you in the upcoming exam.

Two hours fly by ever so slowly, and you’re silently thanking God that it’s over when the time comes.

Slamming your books shut, you spring to your feet with a wide smile plastered over your lips “Well, it’s been lovely but, that’s me done. Goodbye!”

Jake snickers as he watches you disappear up the stairs in a hurry, “See you on Monday!”

Monday flies by faster than you realise, you think as you sit in Physics next to Jake with your head resting in your palm. Monday was always such a mission to get through, but it didn’t help that you had a particularly late night.

“Tired?” Jake asks, sliding over your favourite bottled coffee. Your eyes light up upon seeing it as you accept it with a slightly enthusiastic nod.

“Extremely, staying up watching ‘Criminal Minds' is not a good idea,” You advise before taking a happy swig of the coffee.

Jake laughs, “Thanks for the warning. You’re coming to the game, by the way.”

You roll your eyes, “Is that why you got me a drink?”

Jake hums, “Why else would I do something nice for you?”

You scowl and hand him the coffee back, only for it to be slided back towards you with a disgusted expression on his, “I don’t want it! You already put your mouth on it.”

You sigh, and put it back in your bag, “Asshole.”

“Idiot,” He remarks.

You flick your eyes up and notice the teacher handing out the test papers from the last lesson, “We’ll see who the idiot is.”

The teacher places both yours and Jake's papers down with a smile.

You read the 97 on your paper, tilting it nervously to reveal to him as you wait for his mark.

“96,” He huffs, setting the paper down with a disappointed frown.

You clap your hands together with a wide grin, “I knew it! Sim Jaeyun, you fell off!”

You tease him consistently, singing celebrations in his ear as he places the paper in his bag, smiling at the 98 written on his sheet that he would much rather keep hidden for the sake of you singing gleefully beside him.

Jake swears he’s never seen you so happy; it's almost impossible to keep his smile under control as he watches you in slight fear that the adoration he has for you is emanating more than he would like.

୨ৎ

Your exciting plans to nap immediately after school were destroyed when you heard knocks on the door at exactly four minutes to five pm.

You answer softly, “Come in.”

Expecting one of your parents to walk in, you don’t bother to try and fix your hair or anything so when Jake walks in, you hurry to cover your snoopy pyjamas with your blanket, but judging by the way he snickers, you can tell he’s already seen it.

Jake stands in front of your wardrobe, “Say, Michael B Jordan came into your room and opened your wardrobe. Would there be anything you’d be too shy to show him?”

“No,” You reply, confused. Jake swinging your wardrobe doors open and grabbing a sweater before throwing it at you and walking out of the room was the last thing you had expected. Not to mention that he compared himself to Michael B Jordan, as if you’d care if he had seen your undergarments. Jake, however…

“Ten minutes!” He calls out before closing the door.

You sit in disbelief for a few moments before complying with his demands.

A few moments later, you walk out of the room and hear Jake and your father watching the football game.

“You’re here watching the game when you’re about to play anyway…” You stare at the two, dumfounded.

Jake tilts his head up at you as he gets up, “The game’s too good. Let’s go!”

He says goodbye to your parents and walks you to his car, “We’re kind of early, so you wanna eat something or eat after the game?”

“After the game?” You repeat slowly.

“Don’t tell me you’re planning to run home as soon as the game begins,” Jake runs a hand through his hair.

You stifle a laugh, “I doubt I'd make it before half time.”

Jake laughs, “Alright, let's get going.”

Along the way, Jake plays some songs and you can't help but enjoy the atmosphere. Jake glances her eyes towards you from time to time, fighting the smile that creeps his way onto his face in response to yours.

He can't help but think of how beautiful you look, when you’re not even doing anything remotely significant.

“We’re here,” You say.

“Thanks, Sherlock,” Jake rolls his eyes and gets out of the car. As soon as you open the car door, he pushes you back inside and shuts it. You furrow your eyebrows at him standing by the passenger door.

Jake swiftly opens the car door for you, looking around as you leave the car although it's a struggle to move after a zoo of butterflies started swarming in your stomach from his actions.

“Thanks,” You rub at the nape of your neck as he mutters an ‘its alright’ to you.

The pair of you make your way across the football pitch, Jake greets people as he walks past them while you dodge dirty stares from jealous students. It almost makes you want to laugh; if only they knew how it really was.

To be quite honest, you weren’t sure if you knew either now that you thought about it.

Brushing your thoughts away, you sat down on one of the benches, “I’ll watch from here.”

Jake nods and slings his bag to put next to you, “You’ll watch this, right?”

“Yes,” You huff. “Anything else, kind sir?”

Jake throws his head back as he laughs, “No, madam.”

Before you can look away, Jake removes his top and replaces it with a football jersey. You know you shouldn't, but you can't help it - his abs were literally staring at you in plain sight, so you had to look back at them.

Of course, he notices you staring and tuts, “Didn’t strike me as a pervert, Y/n.”

You gasp, stammering, “You.. You didn't even warn me!”

“Relax, angel. I don’t mind,” He jogs backwards, sending you a few winks before printing off to the rest of his football members.

Just before the game starts, Minji and Jieun run over and join you, already screaming the names of whichever boy they were infatuated with at that current time.

The game proves to be far more interesting as expected and you end up not regretting letting yourself be dragged out of bed by Jake.

You watch intently as Jake dribbles the ball and shoots it directly in the goal. Your adrenaline must have taken over you, since the next thing you know, you’re jumping up and cheering. In the midst of Jake’s celebration around the pitch, he looks over at you with the widest smile he’s ever fathomed. Jieun and Minji share smirks from the side.

By half time, he separates from the rest of his team and runs directly to you.

You hand him a water bottle as he sits beside you, sweat droplets making his skin glow an extra bit.

“I didn’t expect you to cheer for me,” Jake says, smugly.

“I didn’t cheer for you. I cheered for the team,” You correct.

“I didn’t see you get up and cheer like that when Sunghoon scored,” Jake mutters under his breath.

You dart your eyes at him, “You’re lucky I didn’t hear that.”

Jake sits beside you, regaining his strength in the fifteen minute break while you look around at the other members, eyes fixated on one familiar member.

“Oh shit,” You turn around to Jieun and Minji, whose eyes follow your previous gaze and soon replicate your own shocked expression. Jake turns to the three of you, attempting to eavesdrop.

“Is that-”

“Don’t say the name,” You gesture to Jake sitting beside you.

“Woah, woah,” Jake stands up. “Whose name?”

“None of your business,” You snap. “Shouldn’t you go and, like, discuss team plays?”

Jake shakes his head, “Nah, this isn’t a serious game. It’s just a friendly. Who’s the guy?”

Jake nods his head at the guy you were looking at, fury slowly bubbling in his insides.

“He's a relative,” You lie.

“Bullshit,” Jake huffs. “I’ll find out after the game, anyway.”

The guy was Lee Minseok, and he was your first kiss at a party several months earlier. Being a kiss at a party, you don’t even remember it but your friends had informed you of it. He, too, had wanted to reconnect by messaging you on each and every one of your social media accounts for weeks after despite you saying you weren't looking for anything. You’d felt bad, but it was better to leave it as a drunken mistake than leading him on completely. It had also been a shame that he was your first ever kiss, but you were glad you didn’t remember it.

You look at Jieun and Minji again before sitting back down next to Jake, who doesn’t say another word. After a few minutes, he walks off to his members without saying anything. You feel slightly disappointed that he didn’t say one of his flirty remarks, but you don’t pay too much mind.

You continue watching the game, silently cheering whenever Jake scores or does anything remotely notable and you notice how his eyes always turn to you upon doing something well, but again, you don’t think much of it.

It’s only when you notice Minseok slytackling Jake, leading to Jake falling on his back. Soft gasps erupt from the crowd, a way of everyone agreeing that it was far too harsh of a movement. Minseok holds his hand out to apologise, only to be rejected by Jake smacking his hand away and pushing him by the shoulders. It becomes a small brawl, Jay and Sunghoon having to pull Jake away and to the changing rooms. You watch Jake strut over to the changing rooms, a look of rage crossed over his face.

The next thirty minutes of the game go by painfully slow; all you wanted was to know if Jake was alright.

Despite Jieun and Minji’s attempts at trying to get you to go home with them, you wait for Jake, just to find out if he's okay.

It gets dark when you spot Jake walking on the other side of the football field and you call him over, “Jake!”

He turns around and looks at you with a slightly bewildered expression, but waits for you nonetheless.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“I’m fine,” He mumbles. “Did you ask Minseok if he was, too?”

It was your turn to look at him bewilderedly, “No, I couldn’t care less if he was injured.”

Jake’s lips almost curl into a smile. Almost, if he didn’t hear Sunghoons words replaying in his head. Minseok was your first kiss - he stole your first kiss. The feeling of rage bubbled in Jake’s insides again.

“Anyway, I waited because you promised to get me food,” You grin.

Jake looks away, “I can’t. Dad needs help at home.”

“Oh,” You whisper. “Okay, but you owe me another day.”

Jake nods in agreement, and you wait for that familiar smile to return on his face, but it doesn’t.

“I’m going to get going,” You say.

Again, you wait for him to say something, like offer to drop you off home. But, nothing.

You feel like a fool as you walk away from him, his figure growing smaller and smaller behind you with every step.

The next few days are all similar, there are times where you expect Jake to say something to you around the halls or in Physics, but he doesn’t. You don’t even see him around the house anymore, despite his family being there and them saying that he was busy catching up with schoolwork. That was definitely a lie, you knew him.

Mr Sim calls you to sit with them, smiling at you politely.

“Thank you for tutoring Jaeyun. His grades slipped a bit in Australia but, thanks to you, they’re back to normal,” He grins. “I hope there’s no hard feelings, though.”

“Of course, not. Why would there be?” You return his politeness.

Mr Sim sighs in ease, “Oh, I thought you would be since Jaeyun got 98 on the recent test. Although, it was only a marks difference. You’re seriously wonderful-”

The rest of his words tune out, the only thing you hear is that Jake got higher than you in the test but he lied. Why did he lie?

୨ৎ

Deciding to head over to his house with the lie that you needed to give him some school work was merely impulsive, it was far too late when you realised at his doorstep. You’d spent the last few days laying in the darkness of your room, wondering why he has suddenly switched off his typically playful manner to a foreign, nonchalant version of himself. You even cried to Jieun and Minji about it, who cursed him repeatedly.

Jake opens the door in Spongebob pyjamas to which you cock an eyebrow at, “And you called mine childish.”

“What are you doing here?” Jake asks, helping you into his house. “Do you want something to drink or eat?”

You shake your head and he leans on the wall in front of you as you take a seat.

“So,” Jake stares at you. “What are you doing here?”

You take a long and slow breath, “Why did you lie about your mark in the recent exam?”

Jake steps forward slightly, “How did you-”

You shake your head, “It doesn’t matter. Why did you lie?”

Jake exhales, “I knew it would make you happy.”

You scoff, getting to your feet, “Why on earth do you care if I’m happy?”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jake grits his teeth.

“You hate me. You’ve been avoiding me for days, now,” You breathe out.

Jake stares at you blankly, before breaking out into a fit of laughter, “Hate you?”

He inches closer to you until hes standing directly in front of you, “Y/n, I came back here for you.”

“What are you talking about?” You chuckle. “You came back because our parents-”

“No,” Jake interjects. “You think I didn’t beg my father to take that deal? You think my dad doesn’t know how in love with you I am? Y/n, everyone knows but you!”

You shake your head, “This isn’t true.”

“Look, if you don’t like me back, just say so. But, don’t come here and start spewing nonsense. I’ve liked you since that day that we won the Science Fair together. I’ve been in love with you since I left for Australia.”

You look up at him, “No way.”

Jake rolls his eyes and takes your hand, pulling you to his bedroom. He sits you down in his bed while he reaches into a drawer and pulls out a large box.

Jake removes the lid and brings out multiple items that you recognise and some that you don’t.

“This is my Y/n box,” he places it onto your lap. “Have a look.”

Jake holds a few items in his hand, “This is the bracelet I won at a Physics competition in Australia at the beginning. I planned to give it to you. This is a teddy I won at some amusement park. And, this is a letter I wrote on the plane when I realised that I was in love with you. Well, am in love with you.”

Jake continues, “Even my grades, Y/n. They were nothing without you. It’s like you were my only source of motivation, my grades were average towards the end of the year in Australia. My parents and my teachers all blamed it on the move, but I knew. I knew it was because you weren’t there.”

You’re speechless, he kept everything remotely linked to you since you were thirteen. He thought of you in every little thing he did.

“You love me?” You question.

“Yes, Y/n. I’ve been in love with you.”

“But,” You breathe out. “I’m hard to love.”

Your voice is strained, and isn’t far from a whisper. There’s so many things you want to say yet so little words to conform them to the perfect boy sitting in front of you.

He almost guffaws at your words - Jake might have if he didn’t realise just how serious you were. He didn’t understand; what on earth was so hard about loving you? There was nothing.

If only you could see just how effortless it had been, straight from the beginning. The minute he laid eyes on you standing by a handmade rocket, scribbling ideas down on a piece of paper, it was as if the atoms in the universe had created an inseparable bond that tied you two together. It was as if the poles in the universe had drawn together, creating a magnetic field of attraction.

Jake’s eyes twinkle as he leans closer to you, “There is nothing hard about loving you. Loving you is like breathing out oxygen, so if loving you is hard then breathing is, too.”

You flick your eyes up at him again, now only centimetres away from those pink plush lips of his until you close the gap, pulling him into a soft kiss.

“I love you, too, “ You breathe out.

“Really?” Jake gasps. “You’re not just saying that?”

You shake your head, intertwining your fingers, “No, seriously. I do, I didn’t know I did but now.. Now, I know. I came here because you were avoiding me the whole week and I couldn’t bear it.”

Jake giggles, “That’s because I didn’t think you liked me back after that whole situation with Minseok at the football game. I thought it would be better to just leave you alone.”

Jake gently intertwines his fingers with you, a casual action albeit causing your heart to race a million miles per hour.

“So,” he beams, “if you get higher than me in the next Physics exam, I’ll take you out on a date.”

You cock an eyebrow at him, a grin paired on your lips, “And, what if I don’t?”

Jake looks away, thinking for a moment, “Then, you take me on a date.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss first?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him as if he’s ever going to decline that offer

“You don’t need to ask twice,” Jake breathes out, before meeting your lips with a wide grin plastered on his face.

୨ৎ

Seeing Jake knock on your window from outside your house was quite a shock for you, being it was a Sunday evening and you were sorting out your school bag for the next day.

You open your window to let him in with a befuddled expression worn on your face, “What are you doing here? It’s almost 6:30.”

A soft smile is on his lips as he looks at you, and climbs through your window, “I had to see you. Its been so long.”

Rolling your eyes playfully, “I saw you on Friday.”

“That’s far too long, angel.”

You smile as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you in for a warm embrace, he hums as he closes his eyes and rocks your body with his from side to side.

“Why didn’t you use the front door?” You ask him.

Jake nervously rubs the back of his neck, “I’m scared of your father.”

You laugh at his words, “You’ve known the man for years! What’s there to be afraid of?”

He sits down on your bed, playing with your teddy bears, “Well, he’s different with me now that I’m.. dating his daughter.”

“He’s a bit shocked but he’ll get used to it. You can’t expect him to like you if he finds out you’ve been sneaking in through my window, though,” You pinch Jake’s cheek softly.

Jake nods, “I know.” Jake sighs and leans into your touch against his cheek.

“Why don’t you try going back through the front door? You can ask my parents for permission to grab dinner outside, today,” You suggest, pulling his hands up.

You watch Jake’s eyes glint in excitement as he heads back out of the window. Yet, he doesn’t forget to turn around to press a quick kiss on your cheek before he leaves, only to return to be in your house in less than a minute.

Hearing the doorbell ring, you make your way downstairs while fighting the urge to grin upon knowing exactly who was at your door.

You watch your father open the door, seeing Jake, “Hi Jake, what brings you here?”

Jake stammers, “Hello, sir. I mean, Mr Lee… I came to see Y/n.”

You stand beside your father, “Dad, you haven’t even let him in.”

Pulling Jake inside, you frown at your Dad as your Mum joins the three of you.

“Honey, why are you so awkward around Jaeyun now? Weren’t you the one who always wanted him as a son?” Your mum chuckles.

“I didn’t think he would become a son like.. this,” Your dad darts his eyes towards you and Jake. “So, is the relationship going well?”

You struggle to not break out into a fit of laughter, “Yes, Dad. Thanks for your concern. Jake and I are going to get some ice cream.”

Your Mum nods happily while your father sighs and sits back. Jake bows his head politely and leaves with you.

“I hate the awkwardness,” Jake whines and you laugh, intertwining your fingers with his.

“He’ll get used to it!” You boop Jake’s nose sweetly.

Walking alongside Jake with your fingers wrapped tightly in his own, the crisp autumn air hitting against your cheeks and the streetlights illuminating the sky; you can’t help but feel a sense of longing towards the moment. It just felt right.

“I’ve been thinking,” Jake breaks the silence, tilting his head towards you. “Actually.. No, no. You’re going to make fun of me.”

Jake hides his face in his hoodie, but you can still see the redness in his cheeks.

“What?” You laugh, prying his face out of his hoodie. “Tell me!”

Jake sighs, “I used to think we were alike but I don’t think we are. So, I guess we’re kinda like magnets.”

“You’ve called me a lot of things, Sim Jaeyun, but never have you called me a magnet.”

Jake sighs with a smile on his face, “Not like that! I just meant, we’re not as alike as we think. Kinda like a magnet, but they work out fine. If anything, there’s literal forces of attraction pulling them together. Isn’t that so cool?”

You chortle, “Yes, Jake. That’s very cool. I love being your magnet.”

Jake presses a kiss to your lips, “Stop making fun of me.”

“Stop being a nerd,” You retort.

“Says the one who got 100% in the last quiz!”“Don’t be jealous, Sim. You’ll get on my level someday.”

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niki-phoria · 1 month

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my baby, sweet babyってこれからも先一生君に

pairing: okkotsu yuuta x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: fluff word count: 485

notes: every time i post a jjk fic i struggle to find new headers to use lol, you can read this as a non sorcerer au if you want, not proofread, pls forgive any mistakes !! title from ONE OK ROCK - my sweet baby

autumn comes in the form of golden leaves decorating the trees and a cool breeze blowing through the air. OKKOTSU YUUTA runs a stray hand through his overgrown strands of hair, pushing his bangs out of his face. he takes a deep breath, slowly letting the weight of the world slip away from his shoulders. he winces at the dull ache that lingers in his shoulder blades - something that you’ll be sure to scold him about later.

yuuta glances over his shoulder when you open the door with a quiet click. the door creaks as you slide it to the side just enough for you to step out into the sunlight. the welcome mat placed in front of the door feels scratchy beneath your feet as you take a step closer to him. “hey,” you smile.

“hey,” he repeats. it’s impossible to not be influenced by your joy; yuuta’s lips quirk upwards into a small grin of his own before he realizes. his face flushes ever so slightly at the realization, making him quickly turn his gaze back towards the setting sun ahead.

“enjoying the fresh air?”

yuuta nods. “i was just watching the sunset.”

you smile softly in response. everything looks softer in the golden light. yuuta’s eyes shine the color of honey. hues of pink and purple swirl throughout the sky. you can just barely make out the twinkle of stars beginning to appear as they welcome night once again.

“it’s getting colder out,” you say. your fingertips skim the edge of your balcony railing as you wander over to stand beside him. the polished wood feels smooth against your fingertips; it feels cool against your skin as you lean against it. “we’ll have to start wearing our jackets again soon.”

yuuta hums. soon, snow will begin to filter through the sky, painting the world white. soon, your mornings will be spent huddled up in bed together, your bodies tightly intertwined under the guise of conserving warmth. soon, you’ll scold him as you tug a hat over his head when you send him to work in the morning with warnings about not catching a cold.

the thought makes him smile to himself. “i love you,” yuuta whispers. his voice is so quiet you almost miss it entirely when the wind carries his words away.

warmth spreads to his face when you reach over, taking his hand into your own. you intertwine your fingers together effortlessly - as if your bodies are two pieces of a puzzle. your hands feel warm against his skin when you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“i love you, too.” you smile softly, sealing your promise in the form of a chaste kiss pressed against his knuckles.

the world will continue spinning. curses will be born and exorcized. sorcerers will come and go. but for now, with your hand intertwined with his, yuuta knows that everything will be okay.

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vaxmpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho @dog55teeth

if you liked this fic, please comment, reblog, or leave feedback !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

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asteiioss · 8 months

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The One With The Proposal

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!OC

Warnings: smut, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), slight BDSM (use of cuffs), delayed orgasm, P in V sex, unprotected sex (people pls be safe), creampie, no use of Y/N

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Well... Okay. There's a few things you need to know about this piece of work you're about to read. This is actually a part of my series that I'm writing on Wattpad. I will put the link below in case you want to read the whole thing. It's not finished, I'm still writing it. This chapter, however, can be a standalone and can be viewed as a one-shot, so I decided to post it here, too. I wish you an enjoyable reading. Oh, and this is not read through, so if you find some mistakes, pretend that you didn't.

Wattpad acc link: here

Spencer Reid. A man known for several things. His knowledge. A brilliant man, whom the FBI owes many thanks. Uncountable cases that he helped solve that would probably stay unsolved without him. His blabbering. He had a whole paragraph ready to shout out on anything you say. The sky? Fun fact... The book you're looking at? Fun fact, the author actually... A specific person who's dead or alive or never surfaced for something they did? Fun fact about them...

You will never see him wear anything outside of professional clothes. Comfortable professional clothes. Sweaters, cardigans. He sometimes reminds me of older women who wrap themselves in their cardigans. You will never hear him swear. Not in public, anyway. The most he said once was goddamn it. The entire team was left in shock. Penelope was even scared of him that day.

He will stutter in conversations and situations that make him even slightly uncomfortable. He has a germ thing. He never shakes hands or hugs with random people. He makes contact with his friends, me, and some close people like his mother, Diane.

Now put all that into an image and try to picture that man. A shy, uncomfortable, boyish man. Stuck reading books when he has free time. No, no. He cancels plans to stay indoors and read books. Even re-read them.

That same man proposed to me half an hour ago. It was small, intimate, and sentimental. We walked by the restaurant where we confessed we loved each other. He let my hand go and I took a few steps ahead. When I turned back, he was down on one knee and held a small box in his hands.

I said yes.

I said yes more than once.

He was the sweetest man. He was mine. I loved to be loved by him. Delicate, heartwarming, caring and sweet. The man I just described above.

That same man was driving us home at the moment, his dick hard, bulging in his pants, one hand or the wheel, the other deep in my cunt while curving his knuckles at a new angle as he fucked me.

Every person has two sides.

And boy, oh boy, did I love his other side.

Everything anyone knew about Spencer, they would say he would be a sweet, whiney, submissive man during intimacy. I beg to differ.

His fingers twirling inside me, I huff as I refuse to moan just yet. I hated the way he could make me fold so, so easily. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. My mouth is open and I can't hold in pleads from him. His fingers are long. I love his fingers. But his cock is bigger.

He pulls into our parking space and he removes his hand from under my dress. He walks out and comes around to open my door. I begin to come out when he stops me, picks me up and tosses me over his shoulder. I yelp, feeling almost powerless. He slams the door and locks the car and continues to carry me up almost three flights of stairs. The apartment door flies open before we go in. He closes it with his leg and heads directly to our bedroom.

I can't help but blush. I felt like a tiny girl. How disgusting that the tiny girl imagined all the things he would do to her in a few moments. He slides me down and steps back to look at me. His eyes scan me, from the smallest hair on the top of my head all the way down to my toes. There's a devilish desire in his eyes, his mouth parted ever so slightly. His eyes come back to mine and he, almost growling, says, "I kneeled for you, now go ahead and kneel for me."

Tingles run down my entire body. I don't hesitate to obligate his request. Not a request. He demanded. And I wasn't going to defy this. I wasn't going to defy him. Not breaking eye contact, I slide down on my knees, perfectly aligned with his belt. I look ahead, seeing him painfully hard in his pants. I slide my hands up his legs and start undoing his pants. Every clank makes me tingle between my legs.

There was a specific time when a powerful, strong and independent woman only wants, no, only needs to be told what to do. I raised myself from nothing. No one helped me. I could only thank myself for everything I have accomplished in my life. I would listen to no man. No man had the power over me. No man could take nothing from me. Except him. He had all of me wrapped around his little finger.

And I didn't mind.

Being submissive to someone means so much more then people think. It means trust. It means love. Truth be told, not every submissive person tends to be like that in everyday life. Don't get me wrong, I know what comes to mind when you think of someone like that. Porn taught us so wrongly. And this? This was so much more intimate then just porn. This was desire, lust, and pure neediness.

After undoing his belt, I pulled down his pants, tugging his underwear to, removing them to. I would skip everything just to feel him. Being released from his clothes was hitting him sweetly as he took a sharp breath when my eyes fell to his dick.

I look up, almost lustful, maybe waiting for him to tell me to touch him, maybe even to beg me, a whole 180 to what I just described myself as. His eyes were dark and watching me from a high. He simply smirked, almost reading my mind and what was going through it.

"Go on," he half whispered, voice deep just like the darkness around us, "be the slut the outside world has no idea you are."

And that was all it took. My hand takes his base before I stick out my tongue and slide it up his entire length. There was a lot of length. He inhales, pushing a groan down his throat at the first touch I plant on him.

This was going to be a long night.

The kiss I leave at his tip as I start stroking him with my hand sends his head falling back. The motion pushes his curls off of his forehead. I loved when his hair fell on his face. It made him look messy. It made him look more flustered. And the image of him like that made me throb between my legs.

After enough slow-play, I stick out my tongue and take him in my mouth, slowly, reaching as far as I could before I feel him touch my throat. He feels he reached far and he groans. The funny thing is I had taken only half of him. He looks down again, his hairs flying back to his face. His fingers twist around in my hair and tug slightly, almost like he was checking the grip he had on my head.

But I soon found out it wasn't the grip why I thought he wanted it. He held my head in place as he started to rock back and forth. He was using me. Using my mouth to be precise. And he started fucking it. At first it was slow, almost shallow thrusts, reaching where he first did. But as time passed, he became more fierce. He started going deeper, hitting the back of my throat with more force making me gag. My eyes started to water as I had no control over anything. His hand held my head in place as he now almost pounded into my mouth.

As he continued, I could feel him twitch on the top of my mouth. And so did I. I felt my panties dampen with every second that passed. I was horny because my boyfriend, my fiancé, was fucking my throat like it was just something for him to use.

Muffled moans and occasional groans escaped his mouth. He was about to finish. I could easily tell by the increased speed of his thrusts and their force. Finally, he pushed himself almost the whole way, deep into my throat and let himself release there. I gagged pretty hard, trying to keep him down and not throw out his cum.

He pulled himself out and let go of his grip on my hair. His hand slid from behind to my chin and he lifted my face up. He was taking deep and long breaths, his chest falling and rising every time. His eyes scanned me, a fucked mouth, watery eyes and bright red cheeks. Must have been quite a sight.

"Swallow, baby." he said and left his mouth slightly opened, watching as the small bulb went down my throat and he smiled in satisfaction. "Good girl. Your turn."

He bent down and picked me up to carry me to the bed. Back facing the mattress, he climbed on top and roughly kissed me. I loved when he did that. After what I just did, he didn't hesitate to kiss me. He didn't get disgusted to do so. His fingers hooked around the hem of my dress and he pulled it off in one quick motion. I was left in my bra and panties that were already soaking wet. Every time he saw me like that, dressed but not dressed, I'd get shy.

I never liked my body. And yet he worshipped it.

"God, you're so gorgeous." he hovered over me, his eyes trailing over every inch of my body. I shivered from his words that sounded like a prayer. It was half whispers. Like he was afraid that if someone heard what he had, it would be stolen from him.

His lips come down and start kissing my neck, my weak spot. Just the warmth of his kiss makes me moan, eager for more as I buck my hips up towards him. I feel that I caress his cock against my thigh, and as soon as he feels it, he pushes my hips down with his hands.

"Needy, are we?" he chuckles against my skin as he now slowly moves lower and leaves a trail of kisses at my collarbone.

"I hate when you do this." I whine, my fingers roaming through his hair.

"You hate when I kiss you?" he says between kisses, one on my shoulder, one at the base of my neck, one directly in between my breasts.

"No, I-" my words get interrupted when I moan. I feel him smile when he hears me. "I hate when you make me wait. You tease. Every time." I take a deep breath in between every sentence to take in his kisses. As much as I did hate the delay of the actual sex, I loved feeling him everywhere. I didn't know what I wanted more.

He continues kissing, his lips reaching my stomach and he stops. I look down to see him slightly smirking as he is settled just between my legs. I feel shivers. He lets go of my hips and slowly pulls down my panties, sliding his fingers down along my legs in the process. He is continuing to tease me with every touch he leaves on my body.

When I finally think that he is going to stick his tongue at my cunt, I am yet again met with disappointment. He comes over me and trails his hands, slowly, around my back as he keeps looking me in the eyes to catch every whiney face I make as I plead him to fuck me already using no words. But he knows. Oh, he knows that's what I'm asking of him.

He unhooks my bra and I am completely naked. His shirt comes off as he makes us even. Again, I hope that he will now go down. It doesn't have to be his mouth, I'll be happy if he would just stick his fucking fingers into my pussy and rummage through it. But, no. He bends down and kisses my breasts, moving from one to the other. Kissing it, sucking on the nipples, squeezing them with his hands.

If he was kissing and/or sucking the right he would be squeezing the left. There was no space left for me to catch a breath. Then, he bit down on one, just enough to make me squeal. He chuckled with my tit in his mouth. I had enough. I gripped his hair and pulled him up to my face.

"What do you fucking want from me?" I say with a whiney voice. I sounded desperate. I hated it. I loved it, too.

His face had a drunk smile across it. He was enjoying this. My torture was satisfaction for him. Fucking great. "I want you to beg." he said through a whisper. His head was tilted back as I was pulling his hair.

I hated to beg him. Especially to do what I wanted. I knew he knows what I want, but he loves when he makes me break and I have nothing left but to fucking beg him to do the most unholy things to me.

I roll my eyes. "No." I simply say.

He smirks and bucks his hips so his dick slides over my dripping cunt. My entire body arches and he smiles again. "Beg, my love. Use that mouth for something else then a place for me to dump my cum."

That mother fucker. "You assh-" he bucks his hips again and breaks me mid-sentence. I growl at him.

"I don't think that's how begging works. C'mon. Beg me to fuck you. I know you want to."

It was weird hearing him swear. Not just swear, but use vulgar words in general. I used them everyday. It was like saying 'hi' to someone. But Spencer? Noup.

I gave up. I close my eyes and just make peace with my fate. "Please, Spencer."

He bends down and kisses my lips. "You have to be specific, my love. What do you want from me?"

I'm boiling at this point. Do I have a choice? If I want to be fucked, not really. "I want you to fuck me, please me, make me cum. I'm fucking tired of being teased." I practically cry out the last part.

He smirks and I let go of my grip on his hair. He doesn't move, he is still looking me directly in the eyes as he slides one hand down and caresses my inner thigh. He goes over my cunt with his entire hand and I loudly gasp. He watches, enjoys the reactions he gets as he touches me. He brings his hand up and licks his two fingers and then slides them down again.

Baby, you don't need no more moisture, I'm wet enough.

His hand finally connects to my core and he starts making circles around my clit. My body erupts. I no longer have control over my reactions. My eyebrows furrow, my mouth is wide open and it's letting out moans, whines, sounds I didn't even know I could make. And he simply watches. From time to time he would bend down and kiss my neck, maybe even bite down on it, making me buck my entire body up.

"God, you're so fucking wet." he says and starts rubbing up and down my entrance. "You're so pretty. My pretty girl."

I'm melting. Melting into his sinister hands that are touching me in the most horrid ways. And I wouldn't stop him even in a million fucking years.

He slides the fingers in, gently, slowly, caringly. I let out a loud moan, slapping my mouth after I do. Just as I did, his other hand takes my wrist and pulls it off. Holding it, he collects my other hand and pins both of them above my head. "Why would you do that?" he asks. But I don't answer, it's a rhetorical question. "You sound so beautiful when you moan for me. You sound so pretty."

His knuckles are now buried deep inside my pussy and he starts to pump them in and out. When he slides them back in, his thumb hits my clit and he curls his fingers inside just enough to hit that little spot. Every movement he made was followed by that wet sound. I just knew his fingers were drowning in my arousal, and I just knew he was so eager to put his cock inside there too.

He kisses my jaw, my neck, my cheeks. He is enjoying this. Pleasuring someone you truly love is pleasure to you as well. His other hand in on my thigh, pulling it away so he has better access and can slide in deeper then he usually could. In between my own sounds, I can hear him groan whenever I jerk my hips upward and slightly stoke him against my leg.

I want more. Now, I'm just desperate because I don't want to finish now. I want to cum over his cock while he is buried all the way inside. I want him to see that little blub in my stomach appear and disappear as he fucks me.

Like on cue, as if he heard me, he pulls his hand away and climbs the bed again. Pushing my legs fully apart, he aligns himself at my entrance. He pushes, but purposefully jerks himself up so he slides against my clit. I see him place himself on my abdomen as if he is looking how far he goes when he's inside.

"Look at how deep I can bury myself in you, love." he admires and glides his fingers over my skin. He pulls back and leans over to the drawer next to our bed. For a moment he rummages through it. "Shit."

I look over, trying to figure out what was going on. "What is it?"

He pauses and looks at me. "We don't have any condoms."

Well shit.

But I put on my big girl face. "And?"

He looks slightly surprised by my reaction. "No protection?"

I shrug. "What's the worst that can happen?" I smirk, moving myself lower on the bed and connecting myself with him. He really was hard.

He says nothing and just enters. He pushes in with quite a bit of force. I let out a quiet scream at his motion. I still needed time to adjust to his length. But he didn't care. He was already in full force, starting to pick up the pace of his thrusts. His hands go down and wrap around my hips and he uses them to pull me on himself as he continues to pound me.

The room is filled with my whines and moans, the sounds of our hips connecting and slamming against each other, and his groans. I love when he groans. I know he feels good. I make him feel good.

"You're so tight. It's so warm inside." he says through rough groans.

His fingers are diving inside the skin of my hips. I feel pain as he squeezes them. I push the feeling away, I even don't have to. The feeling of his dick hitting my deepest point is strong enough to push it away almost instantly.

The repetitive slamming into me lures my finish to approach. It's forming in my gut and I feel it slowly coming as he continues fucking me mercilessly, rough and fast thrusts.

"I'm gonna cum- Oh, God, Spence." I saw, although I'm not sure how I managed to.

Just as I said that, I felt my climax get at its highest point, and I was about to finish-

He pulls out.

What the fuck?!

"Wha- what are you doing?" I stutter, the high still in the air but it's fading away.

He looks down and has a wicked smile on his face. His cheeks are deep red and his hair is damp from his sweat. "I'm not done with you. Turn around."

I'm mad. Furious. I want to defy him so badly, I want to say 'no', maybe even flip him off. But I want to finish. I was just about to. So I do as I'm told. I prompt myself up and turn around and stand on all fours on the bed. Might I add that this is my favorite position.

I expect him to align himself again and continue to thrust like he did, but he gets off the bed and walks over to the corner of the room. The corner where he keeps his bag for work. I hear a clank before he walks back behind me. He places his hand on my upper back and slightly pushes, indicating for me to lower myself even more. My face and chest lay on the mattress. My ass is now the only thing in the air.

This position gives him more access. I am ready for it to hurt before I can adjust myself to his length again at this angle. Yet again, I don't get what I'm expecting. He takes my wrist and places it behind my back, then the other and connects it with my other one. I hear that clank again. He takes one of my wrists again and puts the metal around it.

It's his fucking cuffs.

He puts his cuffs on and thugs on the chain between them to pull my arms back. He pulls so much that I have to lift myself slightly off the bed. I tremble. Out of excitement. Our of slight fear. Out of horniness, simply.

I feel him bend down and kiss my back. He knows I love that. It feels very intimate to me. He kisses down my spine and then slaps my ass. I yelp, not just by the sudden contact, but also because he slapped it pretty hardly. Not enough to leave a bruise, but it will definitely go red in a few seconds.

"You ready?"

There are certain points in our sex life when he asks, or even simply warns to hold on tight to anything. Since I was obviously restrained, he's asking. That is enough to know this was going to be really good.

"Yeah." I whisper, my face buried back into our bed.

"You know I love you, right?" he whispers again and pushes his tip into my cunt.

My breath trembles since I was still sensitive from the high I missed a few minutes ago. "I know."

"Good. Because for the next few minutes it might not look like I do."

He didn't give me time to respond. He slammed himself inside, making me scream out. This was enough for the neighbors to hear. He started thrusting. I still wasn't adjusted to this position, and his cock was hitting from a new angle that allowed much better access. I felt pain. But, God, was it good. My eyes started watering from the pain as I couldn't take it. I prayed that my pussy would stretch just slightly so I could take him a bit easier.

After a short while, I did. The slight pain was still there. It couldn't really go away from the force he was driving himself in. And then it happened. He slapped my ass again. It was a strong slap. His hand was big enough to cover my entire cheek. I yelp at the sudden pain.

As he continues to thrust, I feel him occasionally twitch. That can mean only one thing. He is about to cum again. Just when I realize that, he speeds up. He pulls on the cuffs and makes me get up from the bed. He's pulling hard enough to hold me in the air.

He hits again, going back to squeeze after. I feel the slight burn of his slaps. Another one connects to my skin and with it I feel that high again. I don't want it to escape again, so I bend slightly so he feels me letting him slide even deeper.

Spencer quickly realizes what I'm trying to tell him, but there's not much left before I feel him hammer himself once, then again, just as I feel my climax release. I scream out, and I feel him empty himself inside.

It takes him a few seconds to calm down before he lets me fall down on the bed again. I'm a fucking mess. He takes off the cuffs and places my hands on my sides before he bends down and removes my hair from the back of my neck and kisses in that spot.

"My perfect girl." he cooed. "You're so fucking special."

I breathe deeply. "Well..." I begin as he lays down next to me. "That was fun." I feel his cum drip down out of my cunt.

He chortles. "That's one way to put it."

I was about to marry this man. I loved every inch of him. Every version there was of him. There was nothing that could take that away from me.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid prompt

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daenysthedreamersblog · 9 months

Text

STRANGERS

Don't talk to strangers or you might fall in love

Freezer bride, your sweet divine

You devour like smoked bovine hide

How funny, I never considered myself tough

summary: you've won the hunger games, and ready to return home in peace, but president snow has other plans for you, and he won't take no for an answer.

pairings: president!coriolanus snow x district6!reader

warnings: MDNI!, blood, violence, murder, manipulation, power imbalance, coercion, heavy drinking, non-con male masturbation, non-con oral sex (m receiving), roses ( pls let me know if i forgot any!)

notes: im new at publishing on tumblr so pls be patient with me! also new at writing in second person POV so sorry for any mistakes! hope u enjoy! there will be more parts coming soon!

Blood splatters onto your face.

"Please," He mouthed underneath you, but the knife was plunging down anyways. You couldn’t hear it.

The crunch of a sternum bone.

Silence. Cold silence rang in your ears and you blinked climbing off of the body a distant boom rupturing around the arena, but you only felt to shake of it, the sudden vibrational change in the air. You looked around the sun blaring down onto you as you turned away from the dead boy, you stumble forward, knee giving out from under you before you collapsed to the ground rolling onto your back staring upward. The blood oozed from the wound on your leg, it stung, it stung harshly, but it was welcomed.

It was over. Everything. It was over and all you were met with was blood stained hands and silence. You could smell the rot forming in your soul.

Boots were pounding into the ground, surrounding you, guns pointing at your body. Hands wrapped around your biceps pulling you, dragging you out of purgatory and into the looming light ahead.

"Congratulations." He whispered placing the small crown on your head, a dainty gold thing, his hands lingering too long on a wisp of your hair. The games had cut off your tongue it seems words never rising to the surface. His hand was under you chin, "Smile. You've won." It felt like a command so the corners of your mouth tugged up as the camera flashed upon you, shaking hands with your esteemed president.

"Thank you." His jaw ticked at your slip, the lack of his title, but he shook your hand anyways as Lucky Flickerman’s crew zoomed in for their close up. The motions were clear, set into place as you read the prepared words off the telecom. If you could get through this then you could return home where it was simple and safe. You would be okay once the Capitol train dropped you off in District 6 where you can happily watch it all disappear forever.

A hand slid to the small of your back, your spine locking up as another photo flashed of the two of you. Your smile stumbled as his shoulder pressed into yours heat pouring off of him where your bodies collided.

You met his eyes, face half turned towards each other, and your cheeks burned with a flush.

The only good thing about winning was finally eating and drinking real food again.

You downed cups and flutes of any alcohol you could find shoved into your hands drowning out the sound of people talking, congratulating you. It was cruel really how when the film of a camera was replaced it sounded like small bones cracking, so your drank more. Why were they so thankful? They arranged for you to be there...they sent you to either die or kill for them. Because some great-great grand-whatever rebelled, so now you had to live with the consequences of someone else actions.

Your brain was beyond heavy, mouth no doubt stained red from the wine. One more day, one more day and you would be going home to die of hopefully natural causes some other time. One more day and you would be out of this hateful city, away from theses entitled, hateful people. You felt it then, the dryness in your throat, the angry water welling in your eyes. You set the empty cup down, stumbling away from the party silent tears beginning to unwarrantedly roll down your cheeks. You gripped the railing as you climbed the stairs towards the mansion doors needing to hide away from the world, and when you reached the top you pushed it open harshly. The heels of your shoes clicked on marble floor in an empty hallway, a door slamming shut behind you as you kept moving. The hallway was spinning like you were stuck in a concrete mixer turning and turning and turning.

You tripped over your foot catching yourself by throwing a hand out to the wall, collapsing onto a small cushioned bench. The groan left your mouth as you slid out of your shoes feet aching, you felt the long gash of the scar the District 2 tribute had given you. It was taking a while to fully close, the wound on you soul would never heal either it seemed.

More tears. More anger.

"You should be celebrating." The cold, calculating voice cut through the air.

You could only roll your head upward, too drunk, too ashamed to be afraid at the surprise. Fresh tears rolled down your cheek. "I did."

Footsteps were coming towards you, slow, like the wolf hunting a doe, and that was when your body alerted, when he had stepped into your space, head snapping towards him. He looked as calm and collected as his tone, a rich black suit fitted to his lean body, a hand lazily in his pocket as his legs bracketed in your knee. "Then why are you in here? I have a whole party out there for you and you hide away in my home.”

"Too noisy." You stared up at him with red rimmed eyes as he towered over, your vision fuzzy at the corners.

His knuckle came up to your cheek collecting the tear freshly traveling down makeup covered skin. "You should be celebrating." He repeated the moisture glistening on his bone. "Not crying."

You sniffed, your voice cracking from crying, "Sorry sir."

"Mr. President." He corrected.

"Sorry, Mr. President sir." You cleared your throat offering him a fake smile.

His hand came under your chin, a pinky resting on your jaw his thumb tracing puffy, wine stained lips, "That's a good girl. Too much wine I suspect hmm?" You only nodded as he held you face, held your life with it too. You might have won his games, but he could still ruin everything, ruin the little family left back home. He had always made that clear to everyone; it wasn’t a shock people started dying soon after they crossed him.

"Yes. Mr. President, sir.” For some reason another tear slipped out with a wide eyed blink.

"You look so pretty when you cry." He traced over your lip one more time gently pushing in until the pad of his thumb pressed against your tongue. You heard the wet noise of his lips parting, as he took a quiet deep breath your teeth grazing his skin. Then he popped it out, bought it to his mouth, sucking gently on your leftover wine. "Come." He wrapped his arm around your bicep pulling you to your feet in front of him. "Let's get you some food, introduce you to some more friends of mine, and then bed." Two hands stroked down your hair holding your head between his palms. "How does that sounds my little victor?"

A dark gaze lingered in his eyes that there was no way around what he wanted, no telling him no. So you let him bend down and slip your shoes back on keeping your face towards the opposite wall. ”Yes Mr. President, sir.” His hand lingered too long on your bare ankle before he rose.

He smiled, a snake like gleam in it, like he had finished wrapping his body around his victim to suffocate it. One more day, and then you were done. He could introduce you to whoever he liked, feed you whatever he wanted, but come tomorrow on that beautiful train ride home the Capitol, the games would be a distant traumatizing memory, and he would just be a face on a screen come next year.

He plucked the white rose off the front of his suit jacket, took the pin out, and tucked it behind your ear to sit prettily in your hair.

His hand wrapped around your waist causing you to grip his forearm to stumble out into the party once more. Your eyes scanned the party, catching on a young girl, the winner from District 4. Her name started with an M, but you couldn’t find the rest of it in you hazy brain. The only thing you could focus on was the sad frown etched upon her pretty face as President Snow dragged you through his party.

6 months later

You wiped dirt off on your pants standing up to admire the blooming garden spread out in front of you. A smile flittered onto your face for only a moment before it fell staring at the wilting leaves on top of wet soil. They had fallen no doubt during a weeding or pruning or plain decay, but they were there ready for the earth to absorb them for nutrients.

Did the arena absorb their decaying bodies too or were they flown away somewhere else? Did they go back to their families so they could rest in peace?

You shook the thought grabbing gardening tools and the water can heading back to the house. Time was helping, the white noise of the district was helping, the trains going by were helping. The only reminder you had ever been carted away...well that and the large sum you had been gifted upon winning. You decided to ration it, save it but comfortably. It was the only thing truly stopping you from drowning yourself in alcohol or morphling, and the disappointed look your father had given you when they had carried you off the train, too wasted to walk. You took up gardening soon after the initial withdrawing, rotting period needing to keep you hands, your mind busy.

The scent of vanilla hit you as soon as you entered the house your body freezing on the threshold. It was a warm vanilla scent, which meant your mother had made tea, which meant there was company. You set your tools down, peeling off you mud stained boots. Your mother laughed as you slowly continued down the hall, the sound muffled by the kitchen wall you had yet to curve around to enter the kitchen. Alarms shot off in your head, the hair on your neck standing up knowing it wasn't anyone from District 6.

"Mother." You called seeing the outline of her at the table.

"Darling." Your mother smiled as you turned the corner, eyes flitting over to the man across the table from her sipping on his tea. A fresh bouquet of white roses sat in a new vase at the center of the table. "We have a guest."

"Mr. President." Your mouth dried out, feet heavy, gluing you to the middle of the kitchen. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

Your mother only stood up rushing towards you, taking your hands to sweetly drag you to the table. "Come sit, my darling bluebell." She forced you into an empty chair around the modest circular table, a plaid green table cloth covering it. You kept eyes on him as she poured tea into the only empty cup. Once the kettle was down she discreetly tried to wipe dirt off your face, "Always covered in something from your little garden."

President Snow mouth quirked up. "Garden?"

You only managed a nod. ”It was a small little thing, something to help…” Her eyes dropped, “Something to keep her busy, and well before you knew it it had taken up most of the lawn." Another discreet pat on the cheek. "I have never been more proud than when I see her out there working on it." She chuckled, "Well besides when you put the tiara on her head." You inwardly cringed at the word tiara, at the reminded of what had been done to earn it.

"My grandmother grew roses." He motioned to the red one he worse pinned to his blue suit. His eyes met yours, "Do you?" A small nod as steam swirled up from the tea that would never be drank, "May I see them?"

Your mother stood up answering, "Of course." Her hands came upon you shoulders, "Go change and show our lovely President." You pushed the chair back using it as an escape for the moment, "Wash your face, and put on that pretty blue sun dress." You didn't answer, only walked back down the hall to your room finally able to breath normally away from his suffocating presence. What was he doing all the way out here? You had figured, had clung, to the fact you would never have to see him, or the Capitol again, and now he was here invading your home.

After washing your shaking hands and face, digging the dirt out of your nails, and braiding your hair back did you put that stupid sundress on and walk back out. Your mother was standing by the door a forced smile on her lips, "Yes sir, no sir." She reminded you, pulling small tendrils of hair loose around your face. "Don't speak unless spoken to."

"I know." You told her, forcing her hands away from your face reciting what your father and mother had both instilled in you. "I am grateful for what you've done for us President Snow."

"Mr. President Snow, sir." She pinched your cheeks to give them color then let you step around her and out of the house.

He was standing near the edge of the garden just before the walkway split separating each sections. "It truly does take up most of the lawn." He smiled holding out his arm for you. You slowly allowed him to hook it under his elbow to lead down the walkway. "It smells divine."

"Thank you." You swallowed, "Mr. President, sir."

He only smirked, "Your mother raised a well mannered woman."

You offered him a shy smile, ”My father and mother always instilled proper etiquette as best as they could. They emphasized respect and dutifulness."

"Important traits to have." He agreed. He was Capitol, he was the president, no doubt relishing in the fact district folks weren't born with those traits, they had to have it beat into them.

His hand clamped around yours, trapping it in his arm. Your breaths shook, don’t stutter. "My roses are just this way." You motioned up the path for him to lead in that direction.

The rose bush could have looked better, but it had always been a work in progress, a difficult flower to manage, and your heart had never truly been fond of roses. Red and yellow seeds were the only color you could acquire so the colors sometimes missed their mark or died all together. “Troublesome for you?” There was no hiding the disappointment in his tone.

“Yes.” An embarrassed response. "I'm tempted to rid myself of them."

"Hmm," He stepped forward fingers running along the soft petals. "I have a garden full of white roses, I brought some for you today."

You gave him a small smile. "Thank you. I'm sure my mother adores them."

"They're for you, not her." He flatly told you a sneer on his face. "A gift of sorts to my favorite little victor." He smirked down at the bush plucking a perky red rose from its stem. "Or what did she call you?" He turned back towards you, "Her darling bluebell?"

The blush bit at your cheeks, "Thank you. Mr. President sir." He smiled deeply tucking the stem of the rose behind your ear rooting it into the braid. "They are lovely." I lied. The scent of roses overtook the air to the point you felt dizzy with it, felt them swallowing you whole like he did.

"I do hope your mother won’t mind looking after it all.” He sighed his hand running down your arm as blood drained out of you, the question sitting leaden in your mouth. "We're trying something new, something Dr. Gaul believed would bring good publicity to the games." You chewed on your cheek, biting the refusal back. You remembered hearing about her death a year or two ago. "A victory tour of sorts." Both hands were on your arms holding you in front of him, "You'll go district to district letting them celebrate you and then finish at the Capitol. I'm going to throw you another party."

His hand came under your chin tilting your face up to him, "How does that sound my little bluebell?"

"Okay." You whispered because it was what was supposed to be said to him.

He beamed, "Such a good girl." His smile fell, "Since this is the first time we're doing it I'll be going with you of course to make sure everything goes smoothly."

Ice coated you. How long would this be? Would he ever let you remain in peace? Would the garden wither and die in the time you would be gone? Why did he stare like that?

You only nodded the obedience in your spine locking into place.

It wasn't horrible. The train was comfy and reminded you of home, the rumbling sound it made, the smell of the smoke and gasoline, the horn blaring through the night. They had written words, of course, to say at every district, reciting from a script how sorry you were for their losses and how thankful you are for the Capitol and their generosity. President Snow talked the most which was ironically a godsend since you didn't want to speak at all.

Mostly, there was food, tons of food...and wine.

You more self-indulgent habit to make the time go by smoother. Even more so now because you could, because it was free, because your parents weren't here to shame you. You would stop once you got home; you had done it before. When the tour was over, you would stop, you would go back home, relish in the normalcy, the garden, where it was safe. Where no one could find you.

Snow wouldn't be on the train ride home.

It unnerved you that he was here simply a few train cars down, eating, sleeping, plotting murder no doubt, planning more games. It only made you swig from the bottle more to shove the anxiety down.

You had crawled in the train car window, a comfy seat under it, curling you feet under you to watch the night blur past. Each bump comforted you, like you were in the older train cars carting people around the district. The moon wasn't out making any outline impossible to see, so you closed your eyes, pretending to hear the bustling square at home. You took another drink of wine savoring the lazy feeling coating your body.

The door slid open no doubt an Avox coming to do some chore, so you didn’t even bother to look. "You didn't come to dinner." Your head snapped up seeing Snow standing in the door a tray of food in his hands, "They said you only grabbed a bottle of wine and left."

"I wasn't hungry." Not a lie, you had felt ill since leaving District 9 the tributes faces beginning to gnaw at you once more. You had survived, and they hadn’t, and it felt wrong. "Mr. President, sir."

He wasn't wearing his normal suit instead a pair of dress pants, and a starched white button up, the top two buttons undone. His immaculate blonde hair was slightly mused a stray curling piece falling onto his forehead. "Come eat with me." You weighed the options before unfolding your legs out and turning to slid off the sill. You tugged at the nightgown they had shoved in the closet for sleep, a soft thin robe covering your shoulders over it. They hadn’t allowed you to bring any clothes from home. His eyes glanced up your body as you pulled it tighter around you.

"Excuse my appearance Mr. President, sir." You sat down across from him.

"No need." He only smiled as he pushed the tray. "Do you like the train?"

You nodded picking at the food, "It reminds me of home. We used to live by the test track before it moved, and it used to rumble the house. I used to hate it growing up, but now it seems to have grown on me."

"I bet it has." You should enjoy the food more, shovel it down until it was nothing. Your family had never suffered too much within the district not like the others, like 10,11,12... but it wasn't exactly always easy. The Capitol was always cramming food down your throat before and after the games, before you had reveled in it, the after...it tasted like dust in my mouth sometimes. You set the fork down pushing the half eaten tray away, but he only pushed it back. "Eat, please." You began to open your mouth in protest, but his jaw ticked. "Eat." A command, "All of it."

You watched his face, bottom lip trembling at the new tone he was using. It was bound to come out, but you had been so kind, always listened. You slowly began eating again forcing each bite until nothing remained, until your chest was tight with a full stomach. You took a sip of water. Always thank him, your mother had whispered on your way out of the door, Even if you are not thankful.’ “Thank you, Mr. President sir."

"You are so good to me, my little bluebell." He leaned forward the darkness engulfing the blue in his eyes. "Can you do something for me?" You made yourself nod even-though fear was trickling down your skin. He motioned with his head, "Go lie down on the bed."

The color drained from your face, "Wh-What?"

Don't stutter.

You cursed inwardly for the slip. ”Be my good girl and go lie down on the bed." His grin widened, “I won’t say it again.”

By the time your knee hit the bed tears had slipped over, you tried to stop them, but they welled anyways as you turned to look at him. He stalked towards you unbuttoning his pants, unzipping them, so you forced your gaze upward taking in the sounds of rustling. His hands pushed the robe down your shoulders letting it pool onto the bed. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words to stop him as his fingers trailed along your bare shoulders, along your collarbones, up your neck. "Spit." He held out his hand. You swallowed, pulling the liquid back up and spit into his palm watching him bring it between his legs. You forced yourself to not look down, not look at what his hand was doing with a large length, to not look as he slid his hand along it. His other hand came up to your face, once again dragging across your bottom lip, pushing his finger further in, hooking it onto your bottom teeth. "Suck on it." He growled. You blinked fresh tears out before letting your tongue poke and lick up his finger, swirling around his knuckle listening to his pants. A cry of protest sat in your lungs, but would it matter? Were you always bound to be at his mercy, cursed to obey his whims to exert his power. “You listen so good." His head fell back a little the small groan hiding the sounds of him stroking himself. “Will you take my cock good too?”

"Please." You whimpered against his hand finding the smallest resistance in yourself at his words. "Please sir...I'm a virgin. I-I don't-!"

He shoved you back onto the bed with a growl his knees straddling your thigh as he pumped his hand faster and faster groaning into the air as two fingers invaded your mouth thrusting along your tongue. You felt violated, but all you could do was lie there and take it, let him do whatever he was doing because you were good, because he was the president and you had to obey. You closed your eyes tears burning your skin on the way his movements shook your body, until finally he stilled warmth shooting over your skin.

You finally breathed as he removed his fingers and stepped away. You lied there, listening to him straighten his clothes back on. "Don't change. Sleep in that." You glanced down at the white clumps running down your nightgown, some even drying to your exposed chest.

He stared at you expectantly. Thank him, even when you're not thankful. "Thank you Mr. President, sir.”

His grin was haunting as he left.

The rest of the tour went unbothered. He only occasionally came back to repeat those events, but each time it got a little easier as you began to know what to expect, each time you dared to look a little bit more. Sometimes even getting lost in the way his hand glided across his glistening cock covered in your spit. On the rare nights, you even gazed upward at him, at his hooded eyes, sweat dripping down his forehead, tongue between his teeth. You even began to listen to the noises he made, the heavy grunts, the soft groans and grit of his jaw, his vulgar words at you when his eyes suddenly met yours making you look away with heat in your cheeks.

And then he would cum over your body.

You threw up after the first night only forcing it to stay on your body because he had said so. After that it became easier to withstand the feeling, the warmth, the smell. You realized after a few times it gave off a scent you had only attributed to him, you only knew that because he often stood so close to you. It was so mild and hidden that you could only tell when you brought some close to your nose, and since it was already there you tasted it and you figured his skin might taste like that too.

It was fine, until you finished the tour of District 2. The boy's face stared down at you, and you remembered how it looked covered in blood.

Please!

The crunch of bone.

You could barely get through the reading, crying halfway through before someone had to usher you to the side. Snow was angry; you could see it in his dark eyes but maybe he could find pity. You had been so kind, so good.

It didn't matter by the time he found you curled into the corner of my room you were covered in smeared make up and tears. You couldn't even take off the stupid pink dress they had given you. He stood there for a moment taking you in then he grabbed you by the hair yanking you up onto the bed. Then he reeled back and slapped you across the face so hard your head snapped to the side. "You were very bad today bluebell."

"I-I..."

Another slap the other way. "Don't stutter."

Your cheek was stinging, "I'm sorry." A pause, and then another hard slap stars split your vision. "I'm sorry Mr. President, sir." You closed your eyes waiting for more but then you heard the familiar noise of his pants unbuttoning and your body began to lay itself back like it had registered before you did. He only darkly chuckled as he pulled you back up and shoved you to your knees in front of him, "I know you didn't mean to break the rules. Right?” You nodded, “And why do I know that?”

"Because I'm your good girl, Mr. President, sir." You stared up at him with red cheeks and pouting lips.

He groaned, his hard length pressing against your mouth. You glanced up at him with furrowed brows not knowing how to do what he was asking. “Open your mouth,” You did. “Don’t bite. I'll do the rest." He pushed past your lips, taking ahold off your face and began rocking his hips into you, his cock sliding along your tongue. "Oh fuck," He shivered shoving himself deeper the tip of him touching the back of your throat. You swallowed the gag as he pulled out to slam back into you bring your throat more tears spilling out, spit running down your chin. You squeezed your eyes as he used your mouth for whatever he wanted as he thrusted his cock into your mouth viciously. "Swirl your tongue around it." He hissed and you obeyed running it along the shaft, around the head feeling him stutter his movements, but pick up speed. His hand was rooted in your scalp yanking your face up, pain bubbling up with each abusing stroke, but something else was there too, and you realized his skin didn't taste bad. "You like that? You like when I fuck your mouth?"

You mumbled out incoherently not even sure what your answer was.

He shoved your head back, neck craned against the mattress his hips pinning you as he blatantly fucked into your mouth. ”I wonder what pretty sounds you would make if I fucked you hmm?” His hand bobbed your head against him as you gripped his thighs to hold yourself up as saliva dripped across your chest. "I can't though...too many others want it."

Your eyes shot open just as his thrust turned sporadic and warm liquid shot down your throat. Your face was covered in fluids, covered in drool and cum, dribbling down your chin as he slowly removed himself. ”What?" Your throat was raw and torn.

"I was going to wait to tell you." He sighed tucking himself back in. "But you are very desirable as a Victor, and once you told me you were a virgin...well it made you a lot more desirable." He patted your tears and cum stained cheek, "But you have been so good to me despite this slip up, so I will try to pick someone you will like. Hmm?” You were too stunned to respond. He was selling you to people, selling you to the highest bidder because you had killed a boy. You weren’t even supposed to win everyone had let you know how the tribute from 10 was slated to win, but he got taken out while you were hiding, and they had lost money. Because your life was a bet for them.

"I want to go home." You cried softly his hand cradling your face.

He cocked his head to the side, "Oh bluebell. You can't leave me yet." He stood up and began to walk to the door, "I might just have to keep you."

He left you there on your knees. No he didn't quite taste bad, in fact, you thought maybe you enjoyed the pool of him on your tongue. You cried even harder.

PART TWO here!

(if you care)

#coriolanus snow #fanfic #dark fanfic #dark coriolanus snow #president snow #president coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coryo x reader #coryo smut #coriolanus smut #coryo x you #dark fanfiction #smut #coriolanus x y/n #tom blyth #hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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nayedoll · 2 months

Note

babe im gonna need a part 2 of the tattoo fic before I combust. it was sooo sweet <33

maybe joost getting to see all of the tattoos they talked about or something? doesn’t need to be smutty if you don’t write that kind of stuff 🤭

like a tattoo; part 2

joost klein x fem!reader

read part 1 here 💌

summary: after meeting joost through a tattoo appointment, you and him get closer resulting in a date at your house.

warnings: 18+, smut, some fluff

word count: 3.7k

a/n: first time writing full on smut so pls be considerate, i really tried my best yall😭

rpf ahead, do not real if uncomfortable !!!

───────────────────────

The evening sun briefly appeared between the grey clouds, casting a faint glow on the walls of your apartment. You rested your back against the closed door, squeezing your eyes shut in hopes to numb the ongoing headache you had been having for the past hour.

After spending the entirety of the day in the tattoo studio, to say you were exhausted and in need for some comfort was an understatement. That comfort was soon found as you opened your eyes again and looked around the cozy smallness of your apartment, the warmth of your own home making you sigh in relief.

Tossing your bag somewhere on the couch, you hurried to the bedroom to change, the discomfort of your worn out clothes being replaced by a soft hoodie and some pajama shorts.

You practically collapsed into the couch as you returned to the living room. The sun had almost set by now making the room lose all of its light and you sat there in silence, sinking into the darkness. You suddenly felt lonely at the isolating emptiness of the room, a feeling that was intensified by the distant noises coming from your half opened window that reminded you of the lively city life outside of your apartment.

Your phone ringing from inside your bag interrupted your thoughts, the vibrant blue light that emitted from its screen momentarily lighting the space around you. You flinched at the buzzing sensation and quickly grabbed your phone, unsure about who would call you at this hour.

The contact name displayed on the screen sparked an excitement in you and you answered the call, attempting to suppress your growing smile.

“Joost?”

As of last week, Joost had been the only thing occupying your thoughts, inking them with his presence like a tattoo. You weren’t exactly the type to flirt over text, but with Joost it was different, it was more fun, more meaningful. His messages felt like a breath of fresh air amidst your hectic life and you appreciated his genuine interest in you in contrast to all of the sex hungry men you had had the unfortunate chance of meeting in Amsterdam so far.

“Hallo,” Joost’s voice was raspy and low as he spoke over the phone.

“Hey.”

“Am I bothering you?” he asked, his tone suddenly becoming reluctant and shy.

“No, of course not,” you reassured him, finding his thoughtfulness cute. “If anything, I needed a distraction.”

“Busy day?” he asked.

“Yeah”. A sigh left your mouth, hinting at your exhaustion.

“Mhm”. You heard some muffled noises on the other end, indicating that he was moving around. “So I’m assuming you’re going to sleep soon?”. He sounded a bit disappointed, as if he had different plans in mind.

“Well I don’t have anything better to do,” you replied before an idea sparked in your mind, “Unless..” you trailed off, “You have any ideas?”.

You were half serious half playing, not really expecting Joost to agree with your last minute suggestion. But then again, why not try? Texting was fine, but you wanted to see him, touch him, hear his voice without the muffled sound of the speaker getting in the way. A quiet laugh from his side filled the short-lived silence before Joost spoke again.

“Would an improvised dinner at your place be enough to please you, ma’am?” he asked jocularly, you chuckled as you rubbed your legs together in excitement at the confirmation that he’d be coming over.

“I’m very hard to please,” you teased him further with an exaggerated cockiness.

“I’m willing to take up the challenge,” Joost affirmed, his words sending a lightness to your heated chest.

“Alright, I’m intrigued,” you replied giggling, “See you in..?”

“Twenty minutes at most if the bus driver arrives on time.”

“Doubt that.” You hung up, finally allowing yourself to vocalize your excitement, squealing in anticipation amidst the silent room.

You didn’t exactly know what Joost meant by improvised dinner but that was a question to be raised for later seeing as the amount of time you had to get ready wasn’t very ideal for -what you assumed was- a date.

Nonetheless, you rushed to your vanity where makeup sat scattered on top of it. Just a little you mumbled to yourself, applying makeup, just enough to enhance your natural beauty and finished off with your favorite lip gloss, as always.

You didn’t change much about your outfit, only discarding your worn out hoodie and replacing it with a cuter one. Your white pajama shorts stayed on, as you considered them to be perfect for such an occasion: pretty, maybe even a little sexy, yet comfortable.

You hurried to the door, the floral notes of your perfume filling the air along the way. Opening it, the anxiety you were feeling vanished at the sight of Joost’s warm, genuine smile.

“Hey there, lieverd” Joost grinned.

“Hey” you smiled welcoming him inside, “What’s that?” you pointed at the medium sized paper bag he was holding.

“What does it smell like?” Joost asked, setting the bag on top of the kitchen island.

“Hmmm” you leaned closer in an attempt to figure out the smell, “Fish?” you looked at him through uncertain eyes.

“Close enough,” he smiled, “It’s sushi.”

“No way” your eyes widened, “I love sushi.”

“Yeah I know, you’ve told me.” Joost responded. You bit your lip suppressing a smile, he remembered.

“So I presume this is the improvised dinner of the night?” You added, taking the neatly packaged sushi out of the bag. Joost nodded and took a seat, his eyes fixed on you.

You looked away, blinking rapidly as he spread his legs and crossed his arms to sit more comfortably. Shit you thought, wondering if you were this flustered by him just sitting, how the rest of the night would unfold.

“Yeah” Joost said all too casually, carrying on the conversation, “I do however hope you have some kind of alcohol we can drink.”

“Hm” you briefly turned your back to him to grab a bottle of wine from one of the cabinets, “Will wine do?” you asked, holding out the bottle for Joost to see.

“Sounds romantic,” he smirked, giving you a small nod, “I like it”. You scoffed, averting your gaze from his. As you did so, your eyes landed on the balcony door and a new idea emerged in your mind.

“Well, since you like romantic things, it is only right that we dine on the balcony together,” You suggested, nodding towards the direction of the sliding glass door. Joost took a glance at where you had pointed, a smile plastered across his face as he looked back at you. “Has a great view” you added, shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure.” Joost affirmed, following you outside to the narrow balcony.

A table was placed in the middle ,small but enough to accommodate two people with two plastic chairs on each side. You both sat down silently as you took in the lovely view that the balcony offered.

The street your apartment complex was built in wasn’t too crowded, therefore it allowed you and Joost to enjoy the peacefulness of the night, while also staying in touch with the city’s night life.

You reached for the chopsticks but Joost stopped you by repeatedly clicking his tongue. “What is it?” you laughed, watching as Joost pulled out his lighter and used it to light up the old vanilla scented candle on top of the table. He glanced back at you with a proud smile as a chuckle escaped your lips.

“God, are you always this cheesy?” you scoffed, though deep down you were appreciative of his little gesture.

“Just for today,” he explained with a sheepish smile as he poured a glass of wine for you and himself.

“Whatever you say,” You rolled your eyes, giggling.

—

It was 12:41 A.M. The streets had become completely empty by now, the only sound filling the street being the distant music from bars and some cars passing by every now and then. Joost had moved from his seat, now standing directly across from you against the balcony railing, smoking a cigarette. You looked up at him as he spoke, silently admiring the way the soft moonlight illuminated his sharp features.

Your eyes instinctively trailed down his bare arms, gazing at his tattoos. You stifled a smile as you noticed the freshly tattooed phrase on his forearm that was done by none other than you. Only then, you recalled the way you and Joost had met and how he wouldn’t be here, standing in your balcony, if it wasn’t for that appointment.

“Nice tattoo,” You said playfully, hinting at his forearm.

“You think?” Joost furrowed his brows, briefly looking down at his tattoo. You nodded and reached out for his wrist as if you wanted to take a better look, but truly your intentions were different, more sinister.

Joost took a step closer even though he didn’t have to, considering the already small width of the balcony. You looked up at him, your mouth slightly parting as you realized just how close he was, his crotch mere inches away from your face.

“You have to show me your tattoos at some point too, you know?” Joost said, you felt a familiar heat run through your body as you got an idea of where he was taking things.

“I can show you this one for now,” you smiled and turned your head to the side, exposing the heart tattoo near your ear.

He had already seen that tattoo on the day of the appointment and you knew that. You secretly wanted him to ask you for more, the ones under your clothes at the parts where you wanted him the most.

“But I want to see all of them,” Joost gently grabbed your chin, pulling your gaze back to his face where a sly smile sat on his lips. His eyes reflected the lust you were feeling at that moment, your cheeks burning amidst the cool night breeze.

“Then we should go inside,” you breathed as Joost caressed your cheek one last time and smiled in agreement, making space for you to get up. You lightly held his hand and led him inside to the kitchen.

“Y’know you don’t have to show me your tattoos if you’re not comfortable with that,” Joost said softly, placing a hand on your waist. You smiled at his thoughtfulness as you closed the door and gazed up at him, barely able to make out his face from the poor lighting of the kitchen.

“Don’t worry, it’s fine,” you shook your head, laughing, “Are you comfortable with me doing that?” you teased, already knowing the answer.

“More than comfortable,” he smiled down at you.

You walked with him to the living room, your hand still on his and sat down next to him on the couch. You paused for a second, unsure of how to start. Just his stare alone drove you crazy at that moment and you wondered how it would feel when he actually touched you. Joost sensed your uncertainty and took the initiative.

“What’s this one?” he asked, pointing at the ribbon drawing on your upper thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. You smiled, giving a brief explanation and showed him the few other tattoos scattered across your legs. You took your time exhibiting them one by one, giving details about when and why you got those tattoos. Joost seemed interested at first, though you could tell he was getting more impatient by the minute as your plan to tease him was working.

“Okay, so these are all the tattoos on my legs,” you said, looking at Joost who had leaned back against the couch, listening to you intently.

He glanced at your hoodie, silently asking you to take it off with his eyes. You removed it and tossed it somewhere behind you, leaving you with nothing but a white tank top that matched your pajama shorts.

Joost bit his lip, fighting back a smile. You wasted no time in showing him your tattoos, running your trembling hands along your inked arms.

“And then,” you breathed and turned your back to him, “I have this little one on my back,” you lifted your hair up, unveiling the phrase tattooed on your back that was written in cursive.

“That’s really pretty,” Joost mumbled, resting his hand on your shoulder as his thumb caressed your tattoo. You winched at the contact as a shiver ran down your spine, rubbing your thighs together to cool off the tension that arose between them.

“Relax,” Joost laughed, his fingers still grazing the skin of your exposed flesh. He moved closer, his hot breath against your neck near the heart tattoo that had started it all, as he kissed softly on it.

“You got any other tattoos you wanna show me?” He said, placing more wet kisses along your neck and biting the area, resulting in quiet moans from you.

“One more,” you exhaled, biting back a smile.

The tattoo you were referring to was the one under your shirt, in between your breasts and you were deliberately saving it as the last one in line.

Joost hummed in agreement on your neck, the vibration of his voice sending jolts of electricity through your body, your breath slightly quivering.

“Show me.” He pulled back, his tone demanding but gentle.

You faced him again, a sly smile on your lips, you were getting closer to where you wanted him.

“Sorry but,” You pouted your lips, your finger lightly brushing against Joost’s cheek, “You’ll have to find it yourself.” you said coyly, inching closer to him at a dangerous proximity.

“Fine by me,” Joost smirked and held your waist firmly, bringing your smaller frame on top of him. You pushed him back on the couch, your thighs now straddling him. His eyes met yours, soft and desperate, quietly begging to kiss you. You leaned down, kissing him with passion in contrast to the softness of his lips against your own.

You instinctively began rubbing your heat on his thigh, desperately searching for a way to release the tension you were feeling. Joost encouraged you by guiding your hips against him, the friction earning a moan from you.

Your hand traveled lower to his crotch, getting an idea of just how hard he was before pressing your palm on top of it. He groaned at the sensation, smiling against your lips.

He moved his lips to your neck, his teeth lightly grazing against various spots, leaving love bites all over your neck and collarbones. You were panting heavily, feeling the wetness in your panties grow the more you grinded on him.

“Can I take your shirt off, baby?” Joost stopped you, tugging at the cotton fabric of your top. You breathed a stifled yes, raising your arms to help him remove the shirt as he pulled it over your head and discarded it to the floor. He stayed silent, gazing at your half naked figure.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled, you weren’t sure if he meant your breasts or the tattoo in the middle of them, but still blushed at his comment. You leaned in for another kiss, this time more controlled and romantic, playing with his hair as you did so.

He broke the kiss, breathing deeply. “Can you uh- Can you lay down on your back for me?” he stuttered, running his hand through his hair.

You obeyed and got off his lap, now resting your back on the soft surface of the couch. Joost stood on his knees in front of you, taking his shirt off, exposing his happy trail. You slightly opened your legs, just enough for him to get in between them. You could practically feel the heat radiating off his chest as he towered over you, panting frantically.

He lowered himself atop of you, his lips trailing from your neck down to your stomach, at a teasingly slow pace, igniting a tingling sensation in your body. His hands toyed with the waistband of your pajama shorts, teasing you all the more.

“You want me to take these off?” You glanced down at Joost, desperately nodding in agreement. “I need words, baby.” His hand lightly brushed your inner thigh, making you wince and clench around nothing.

“Yes, do whatever you want,” you exhaled, watching as a satisfied smile appeared on his lips. He took the shorts off, leaving you almost entirely exposed to him. His hands delicately ran over your legs, resting just at the hem of your lace panties that left very little to the imagination.

“You’re so wet,” Joost whispered, grazing his fingers over your clothed pussy. You whimpered, rocking your hips forward to feel more of him. “So impatient,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Joost please,” you said with despair in your voice. He mouthed an okay before carefully slipping your panties all the way down to your feet and tossing them away.

Despite your lustfulness, he was still so gentle with his touch, taking his time with your body which intensified your desire for him.

His fingers started stroking your clit, earning a sudden gasp from you. Your body was so hot you could say you were practically burning alive, as Joost worked his fingers on your slick folds before pushing his middle finger inside of you. You arched your back, your breath hitching at the sensation of his thick digit caressing the inside of your core.

“That feels so good,” you managed to say in between your strenuous breaths. Joost smiled, clearly enjoying the sight of you, your face flushed as you let out small moans. You rolled your eyes when he added a second finger, feeling dangerously close to your climax with each passing second.

Just then, he withdrew his fingers that were glistening with your arousal, quickly licking them. You whined, making a pouty face up at him and he let out a small, barely audible laugh. “I know liefde,” he mumbled, grasping your thigh with one hand while the other traveled to his belt, trying to unbuckle it.

You stared at him, feeling a rush of excitement pump through your veins at knowing what was coming next, the metal sound of his belt being unfastened only validating your sinister thoughts. He pulled his pants down to his knees, not bothering to fully take them off as he shot you a glance, waiting for a confirmation.

Your eyes flickered to his boxers and you wet your lips, nodding up at him. You held your breath as he lowered his boxers, his hard cock fully uncovered and you attempted to suppress a smile.

He leaned down again, propping himself with one arm next to your head and gave you a soft grin. So beautiful was all you could think in that moment, cherishing his beauty as he stood over you, his hair a cute mess, a pink blush painted on his face that was glistening with sweat.

He carefully lined himself up with your entrance, the tip of his cock teasing your folds before he slowly entered you. A groan left his mouth at the sensation of you clenching around his hardness as you exhaled sharply.

Your hand twitched, looking for some kind of support as he pushed deeper into your core. Joost noticed and firmly held your hand that was resting on top of your stomach, his tattooed fingers intertwined with yours.

You let out a stifled cry as he bottomed out, not moving to allow you to get used to his size. Before long he started thrusting inside of you at a slow pace, your grip on his hand loosening the more he continued.

Your moans and his grunts filled the silence of the room, as you let yourselves be consumed by the intimacy of the moment.

“So good,” Joost breathed, his pace increasing, “You’re perfect.” he added. You whimpered in response, capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss. You felt yourself getting closer as your legs began shaking and your moans became louder and faster.

“Joost,” you cried out, grasping at his shoulder.

“I know baby, it’s alright,” Joost quickened his pace all the more, the ecstasy from his rapid movements making it harder for you to resist your orgasm. Loud cries escaped your lips as you came undone on his cock, trembling furiously under him from the immense pleasure of the moment.

Joost muttered a few curses, his movements becoming sloppier and faster, the dirty sound of his skin slapping against yours now filling the room. You quieted down, tilting your head to the side from the exhaustion.

“Just a few more seconds schatje, I promise,” Joost said, letting out stifled groans as both of his hands sinked into the skin of your waist. With a final grunt, Joost pulled out of you, letting his release spill on top of your stomach and chest.

He placed a peck on your hair, leaning back and resting his back against the couch as he caught his breath. You slightly sat up, propping yourself on your elbows, your chest heaving slowly.

“I’ll get you something to clean yourself up,” Joost said, fumbling his fingers through his sweaty blonde hair.

“No it’s okay,” you smiled as you collected his release with your fingertips and licked it, savoring the salty taste of it on your plump lips.

Joost stared at you in amusement, eyes widening at your action. “You’re insane,” he laughed and shook his head.

“Just a little,” you joked and got up to take a shower.

Not long after, Joost and you had moved to the bedroom where you were cuddling, your head tucked away into his warm chest that carried the sweet scent of your body wash on it. Joost was running his hands through your hair, twirling it with his fingers as you talked.

“By the way,” he cleared his throat, “I like your tattoos. Didn’t really get the chance to tell you earlier.” he said, the gentleness of his voice almost therapeutic in a way.

“Thank you.” you smiled, stroking his stomach.

“I’ll come by for another appointment soon.” He added.

“Really? What are you getting?” you asked,excited that you’d be tattooing him again.

“A heart tattoo.”

#joost klein #joost #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #thanks anon!

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